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I could spend weeks just admiring her and never grow tired of it. Maybe I’m becoming obsessive, but there isn’t a single part of me willing to resist it.

I wonder if this is how it started with my father, this obsession of keeping Mama so close, to believe possession is the same as affection?

All that I am, I could never raise my hand at Elara.

I’m not capable of it. I’m capable of chopping my own hands off if the thought ever crosses my mind.

“Sergei?” Her voice pulls me from the darker corners of my mind. My fingers tighten around her waist, unwilling to let her slip from my grasp.

“Yes, solnyshko?” “I’m fine.”

Liar.

“You can let go now.” The corners of her lips lift ever so slightly, forming what can only be described as the ghost of a smile.

Is my woman…smiling at me? My heart slams against my ribs violently, and I’ll be damned if she can hear it.

Fuck.

“I don’t even know why I agreed to come here.” She mutters. “But now that I am, you don’t get to touch me.”

She plants both palms against my chest and gives me a firm shove. Too stunned to argue, I take two steps back.

“You owe me fifty thousand pounds.” She swats her hand in the air dramatically.

I pretend to humour her. “Fifty thousand pounds? For a wooden door?”

“For the door, the emotional distress, and the therapy I’m going to need every time someone knocks.” She replies instantly.

I can only grunt in response. “You’re surprisingly taking this well.”

"I'm trying something new." She shrugs.

“What’s that?”

“Robbing the rich of their money.”

“And?” I take a step closer to her. An amused chuckle escapes me. The sound makes her glance over her shoulder.

For the briefest moment, a smile threatens to curve her lips before she schools her expression into a flat stare.

“You want me to freak out?” she asks. “I can easily tear this place apart.”

I snort. The stubborn look on her face reminds me of the day we first met. “I’d love to see you try.”

“Oh, I will.” She points a finger at me. “The second I leave, I’m keying your car.”

“I own thirty.” I bite back another laugh.

“Perfect. I’ll have options.” She chirps, lifting a mocking brow at me.

One moment she’s hysterical, the next she’s smiling. I’ve spent my life around Alec and Roman—I know a mask when I see one. Hers just happens to be prettier.

She claps her hands together. “I’d now like some food, coffee and a blanket. Preferably in that order.”

I nod in response, helpless before her demands. Before I can reply, the doorbell rings.

Her smile fractures, her fingers curling into her palms, nails digging into her skin as her gaze anxiously darts from the door to me.