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"One of your father's men, then. Someone who worked security or did physical labor."

"Maybe." She looks frustrated. "I can't remember his face. Every time I try to focus on it, the memory slips away."

"That's normal with childhood trauma… and dreams. The mind protects itself by blurring certain details." I move back to the bed and sit beside her. "But the fact that you're remembering anything at all means the memory is trying to surface. It might come back in pieces."

"I don't know if I want it to come back." Her voice is small and vulnerable. I reach out and tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

We sit in silence for several minutes. The clock on the nightstand shows it's past three in the morning. Dawn is still hours away, but I know neither of us will sleep again tonight.

Ana shifts closer, pressing against my side. The warmth of her body presses against my naked chest. When she looks up at me, there's heat in her eyes that has nothing to do with fear or nightmares.

"I don't want to think about it anymore." Her hand slides up my chest. "Not right now."

"Ana." I try to sound stern, but my voice comes out a little rough. I know she wants to forget by having sex and normally I'd be all over that. But I want to make sure this is really what she wants. I don't want her regretting anything later.

"Please." She moves to straddle my lap, her thighs bracketing my hips. "I need to feel something other than fear."

Fuck it. I'm not strong enough to resist her when she's looking at me like that, when I can feel the heat of her pussy against my cock, her juices already starting to leak. She's always so fucking ready for me! How could any man resist such beautiful temptation?

I grab the back of her neck and pull her down into a hard kiss. She responds immediately, her mouth opening under mine, her tongue sliding against mine with an eagerness that makes my cock harden instantly.

Her hands roam across my chest, almost frantically, while I slide the straps of her nightgown down her shoulders, exposing her breasts. Perfect tits, full and round with nipples already hard. I break the kiss to take one into my mouth, sucking hard enough to make her gasp.

"Samuil." My name is a moan as she grinds down against my erection.

I flip her onto her back, pinning her beneath me. The nightgown rides up around her waist and I discover she's not wearing anything underneath.

"You're going to be the death of me," I mutter against her throat as I position myself between her thighs.

"Good." She wraps her legs around my waist and pulls me closer. "Die happy."

I push inside her in one hard thrust, burying myself to the hilt. She's tight and hot and perfect, her body accepting mine like we were made to fit together. She doesn't shy away or ask me to be gentle. Instead she meets me thrust for thrust, her nails digging into my shoulders hard enough to leave marks.

The sex is intense and desperate, both of us seeking escape from the darkness that surrounds us. When she comes, she bites down on my shoulder to muffle her cries. The pain pushes me over the edge and I follow her into oblivion.

Afterward, we lie tangled together, breathing hard. Ana's head rests on my chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns on my skin. I should say something, but words feel inadequate.

Eventually, she falls back asleep, her breathing evening out into a steady rhythm. I wait until I'm certain she won't wake, then carefully extract myself from the bed.

Sleep won't come for me now. My mind is too active, turning over everything Ana described. I pull on pants and a shirt and head downstairs to my study. Ivan's journal sits on my desk where I left it hours ago. I pour three fingers of vodka and settle into my chair, opening the leather-bound book to the section I was reading earlier.

The entries from forty years ago are sparse. Ivan's father was still alive then, still running the Rostova business. But there are references to "incidents" that required "discretion" and "protection of the family line".

I flip through the pages slowly, comparing dates with what Ana told me about her age during the nightmare as well as what she said earlier. Somewhere between five and eleven, that would put the incident somewhere around…

Wait. There's a gap in the journal. Several pages have been torn out, leaving only ragged edges along the binding. The missing section falls precisely between entries from the year Ana would have been eleven.

Someone removed those pages. And they did it long before Ivan hid this journal in the secret compartment. Whatever happened, whatever Ana witnessed, someone made damn sure there would be no written record of it.

I lean back in my chair, staring at the torn edges. Sometimes, what's missing tells you more than what remains. A soft knock interrupts my thoughts. Gregory enters without waiting for permission, which means something's wrong.

"Couldn't sleep either?" He looks as tired as I feel.

I shrug and gesture to the chair across from my desk. "Do you have something?"

"Finished going through the missing bodyguard's financial records." He drops a folder on my desk. "Nothing unusual on the surface. Regular salary deposits, normal expenses. But there's one detail that stands out."

I open the folder and scan the highlighted sections. "Large transfer three days before Ivan disappeared."