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When Ollie turned to me, the hardness in his face melted away, replaced by a softness that was almost impossible to believe. How could this be the same person? I wondered if I imagined it. Was I so desperate for love and attention that at the slightest hint of interest and I’d fall?
A small smile actually played on his lips as he approached me. He reached down, took his T-shirt draped over a chair, and wiped his hand before he touched me. Approaching me, he gently placed his hand on the side of my cheek, perhaps his favorite way to touch me, before he bent and kissed my forehead.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said, peering into my eyes. It was a complete transformation—from ruthless interrogator to gentle protector. "Are you all right, Renata? Did something scare you? Do you feel well?" His hand brushed my forehead with a tenderness that felt almost out of place after what I’d just seen.
I swallowed hard and shook my head, not even sure which question I answered.
I'd seen vicious brutality in my life. My own brother had grown to be a man devoid of emotion, but in all my life, no one had ever touched me with such tenderness or looked in my eyes as if he would move a mountain with his own bare hands to make me happy.
I wondered what crime the man had committed to earn such punishment.
That night, as I watched him shift from ruthless to gentle, something inside me broke—and I think I fell in love. I mumbled something about my stomach being uneasy, which wasn’t a lie. He frowned and nodded, holding my gaze as if I were the only person in the world and he wasn’t still covered in the blood of another man.
“Back to bed,” he ordered, his voice gentle but leaving no room for disobedience. A man of few words, I’d quickly learned Ollie always meant what he said. “I'll get you something to make you feel better.” He turned me around toward the door. “Go, now, Renata.”
“Thank you,” I whispered. My eyes flickered at the man in the chair. Ollie didn't know that I could detect lies. Could he use my help now?
Something told me to wait until the time was right.
I went back to bed and lay down. I tried to summon some vestige of humanity, some horror for what I've seen. I wanted to be horrified. I wanted to feel normal, but all I could remember was that tender look in his eyes.
I wake,my half-dream slipping away, and there he is—a shadow by the window, watching over me. The soft glow of moonlight in front of him bathes him in a gentle golden hue, casting dancing shadows on the walls. Bare-chested, he’s wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and holds a bottle of beer in one hand.
I blink in surprise and look down. I’m still in the white satin panties and bra, the dress over a chair. I don’t even remember taking it off. I must’ve fallen asleep.
“Ollie?”
He turns to me. I’m unable to see his eyes as he’s shadowed in darkness.
“What time is it?” I ask.
Shrugging, he puts the bottle to his lips and finishes it. I’m mesmerized by the way he swallows. There’s something irascibly masculine about the way a man swallows with his head tipped back, a brief glimpse of his vulnerability.
“Don’t know,” he says when he’s finished. “Don’t care.”
I look down again as if to remind myself I’m nearly naked. “Did you take my wedding dress off?”
“Yeah. You were asleep, and I didn’t want to wake you. Not after that ordeal.”
My arm throbs beneath the bandage. I stare at it and breathe a sigh of relief. It’s gone. The fucking tracker’s gone, and, by now, likely as far away from here as he could get it.
“Eh. Thanks, but I’ve been through worse than that,” I say with a laugh.
He’s instantly sober. “I know.”
The scent of roses hangs in the air, mingling with the hint of his cologne. I swallow. “I thought… doesn’t the Bratva have rules about consummating a marriage?”
“Mmm,” he says. “They do.” He moves toward me with predatory grace, each step deliberate. As he nears me, I can finally see his eyes, as green as enchanted jade. “You’re so beautiful.”
A shiver of anticipation ripples through me as he draws closer. When he reaches me, he sits on the end of the bed. “You made me so proud today.”
I tip my head to the side just as his hand cups my jaw. “Did I? When?”
“When you took your vows. And when you didn’t flinch when I took that fucking tracker out of your arm.” His voice lowers. “When you let me take care of you.” As he speaks, he traces a finger down my neck, over my collarbone, to the slim strap of my bra. With deliberate care, his touch glides over my skin, sliding the bra off my shoulders like he’s unveiling me. It falls half off, cupping the lower part of my breasts.
My heart pounds in my chest. I’m nearly naked before my ruthless husband.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “Ollie?”
