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My heart swells, a mix of surprise, gratitude, and love. "Samuil," I whisper, my voice choked with emotion. "You didn't have to..."
He cuts me off with a gentle finger to my lips. "I wanted to. For us."
I lean in, pressing a soft kiss on his cheek. "Thank you," I say, my voice filled with a depth of emotion words can't capture.
Pulling back, I cast a wry smile. "Though, if I knew getting poisoned would get me a penthouse in Khamovniki, I might've considered it sooner."
Samuil laughs, shaking his head. "Only you, Anastasia. Only you."
The gentle hum of the electric doors greets us as they glide open, revealing an expansive lobby that's the epitome of modern elegance. Polished marble floors reflect the gentle illumination from the chic pendant lights, while minimalist furniture pieces, each more artistic than the next, punctuate the space. I can't help but marvel at the sheer opulence; it's as if we've stepped onto the pages of an architectural magazine.
As Samuil pushes the wheelchair, we bypass the sparkling water feature in the center of the lobby, moving past the uniformed concierge who greets us with a nod. The lift is as swift as it is silent, and within moments, we’re at the penthouse level.
The doors open to a living space that takes my breath away. The first thing that strikes me is the light—a panorama of Moscow stretches before us through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The city’s famous spires, domes, and skyscrapers are all on display, their details painted by the soft hues of the setting sun. A lavish open concept living area beckons with plush sofas, abstract art, and a sleek fireplace built into a marble wall.
But as striking as the interior is, it's the view that captivates me. "It's incredible," I whisper, my gaze fixed on the horizon, where the silhouettes of the Seven Sisters seem to pierce the evening sky.
Samuil leans down, his breath warm against my ear. "You haven't seen the best part yet."
He steers me down a corridor, and with every turn, the anticipation builds. When the doors to a large room swing open, I’m left stunned.
Before me lies a state-of-the-art gym, the kind one would expect in a high-end fitness center, not a personal apartment. It's outfitted with everything: weights, cardio machines, resistance bands, mats, and a mirrored wall that stretches the entire length of the room. Off to one side is a designated space for my physical therapy.
"You did this for me?" I'm barely able to get the words out, my emotions threatening to bubble over.
Samuil shrugs, the tiniest smirk playing on his lips. "Thought you might want to get back into fighting shape once you're ready. But first things first—recovery."
The realization of what he’s done, how deeply he’s thought about my needs and my passions, crashes over me like a tidal wave. I feel tears stinging my eyes, not of sadness, but of overwhelming gratitude and love. Impulsively, I pull myself up from the wheelchair, balancing precariously for a moment. Samuil moves to steady me, but I wrap my arms around him first, pulling him into a tight embrace.
"Thank you," I whisper against his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin, the steady pulse beneath.
He pulls back slightly, looking down into my eyes. Without another word, I lean in, pressing my lips to his. It's a kiss filled with promise, with hope, and most of all, love.
I take a deep breath, the weight of everything that's happened hitting me. "Samuil," I begin, my voice shaky, "I've been such a fool. How did I not realize sooner just how deeply I felt about you? Every day I wonder why you didn't just give up on me and find someone else, someone easier to deal with, someone who didn't have so many walls up."
He chuckles, a deep sound that rumbles from his chest, causing me to look up, slightly miffed. "What's so funny?" I demand in a tone sharper than intended.
Samuil grins, his eyes holding a hint of mischief. "Anastasia, for all your toughness, your strength, and your resilience, you've still got a lot to learn about love."
Confused, I tilt my head and narrow my eyes, a small smile forming on my lips. "And what's that supposed to mean?"
He doesn't answer right away. Instead, he leans in, closing the distance between us, until his lips are hovering just above mine. "With love, Ana," he whispers, his warm breath brushing against my skin, "there's no such thing as giving up."
Before I can respond, his lips are on mine, a soft, lingering kiss that communicates everything words can't.
Chapter 29
Anastasia
One month later…
The metallic clang of the weights and the rhythmic thud of punches being thrown onto the bags fills the room. As sweat drips down my temple, I circle Samuil, my gaze fixed on him. He moves effortlessly, a graceful dance of power and precision. I, on the other hand, still feel slightly off-balance. The recovery, the poison, the weeks in the hospital have taken a toll on me.
"Come on, Ana," he growls, smirking a little. "You're holding back."
I grit my teeth, frustrated. "I'm trying, Samuil."
"No," he corrects with a sharp edge to his tone, "you're thinking too much. Stop being afraid. Stop holding back. Come at me."
