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"But you aligned yourselves with the Romanovs," Ollie says as if that explains everything.
They go on and on, discussing international organized crime syndicate bylaws and rules, regulations, respect and disrespect, and a litany of names of people I don’t know and don’t care to know. But I only hear one thing…Polina is in danger now.
Will it ever end?
Probably not.
Maybe that's okay.
Maybe these guys form their identity through being enforcers, strong and courageous. And maybe we women were meant to be the counterpart that challenges them. Because when I take a man like Ollie Romanov into my hands, and I know that he’s fallen for me and loves me? I feel as if I could rule the world.
"Mom is dying to feed everybody," Lev says.
My stomach growls on cue. “Rivals and threats aside, real food sounds great right now.”
"We need to shower," Ollie says. But I know him. He wants to get away. He wants me alone.
“No problem,” Mikhail says, obviously forgiving me. “We'll have food sent up to your room. Can you tell me what you want to do next, Ollie? Maybe take her as far away from here as you can? You’ve been dealing with Carlos now for quite some time. Now that he’s gone, you need a reprieve."
"I know," Ollie says quietly. When he looks at me, though, I know exactly how to respond.
“We don’t want to travel. You guys have had Ollie going all over the world, and he hasn’t been able to put down roots. He’s the only one who hasn’t. He may be too selfless to admit it, but he’s ready to settle down. Withme."
Ollie bends and kisses my forehead. "Thank you. We’ll stay here until we find a place of our own. This is where we belong," Ollie says.
"Mom is gonna like that immensely," Lev says with a smile. I smile myself. So will I.
Polina takes King Arthur, and we walk up to the bedroom. I take a long, hot shower while Ollie fields a few more calls, and just when I’m rinsing my hair, he opens the door.
He stands in the doorway until his hair is damp from the steam.
“Are you coming in?" I ask him quietly.
"Yes.”
My heartbeat races. We've been through so much, and I want to reconnect with him. I need to know if he feels the same.
He grabs the hem of his shirt and lifts it slowly over his head. I tip my head back, letting the hot water scald my scalp, streaming down my face as I stare at him. I blink.
His arm is cut and bleeding. There's a purplish bruise forming on his other arm, and yet, he’s never looked so handsome.
He steps out of the rest of his clothes, letting them fall to the floor. There's something about being naked in front of each other that feels like a new beginning. I like it. As he steps toward me, I lazily look over every inch of him. A few feet away from the shower, he pauses. I swallow and lick my lips, reaching for the bar of soap and lazily soaping my breasts. It satisfies me immensely to see the way his erection grows while he watches me.
"You're so fucking beautiful," he whispers. “And you're mine."
I’ve never been one to enjoy possessive language, but something about the way he says it ticks every one of my boxes. I love it. I lovehim.I want him.
"Oh yeah?" I tease. "Is there something I’m supposed to do with that information, Mr. Romanov?”
I hold his gaze with mine, challenging him.
"Not at all," he says quietly, watching me as I soap my pussy. Little bubbles trail down my legs, and I rinse my hand. I put the soap down, run water over my fingers, and glide them to the top of my pussy.
The way he growls makes my skin prickle. “You leave what's mine for me, Renata. You know what I expect."
I do, which is why I’m touching myself, teasing him. This is a dance between the two of us, and I know the steps so well. I love that he leads, and he expects me to follow. While others may have instant connections, he and I have fought for what we have. And now that we’ve survived, now that we’ve made it to the firstfinish line of what I am sure will be many more, I feel as if we need this victory.
"Don’t you dare," he says, his eyes blazing into me, daring me. Begging me. "That’smy pussy," he whispers.
