Page 29 of Bratva King

"You don't know the future."

“No, but I know what I want,” he told her.

She looked away again. Neither of them spoke for the remainder of the drive.

****

They arrived at the Volkov estate ten minutes later. Security gates opened immediately, and floodlights swept across the grounds. The limousine finally rolled to a stop. Alexei exited first, and

Natalia followed him inside without a word.

A few night staff looked up in alarm at the shattered limousine waiting outside, and Alexei simply waved them away.

“I’ll explain tomorrow,” he told them.

He and Natalia climbed the grand staircase together, still not speaking to each other. By the time they reached the second floor, only the grandfather clock disturbed the quiet. It was midnight now. Natalia stopped outside her bedroom door.

“So,” Natalia began, then offered him a tired smile. "Goodnight."

She reached for the handle. Alexei caught her wrist, and Natalia turned. He loosened his grip immediately, but not enough to let go.

"I'm sorry,” Alexei said. The two words felt foreign on his tongue. Hell, he couldn’t even remember the last time he apologized to anyone. She blinked, and he continued, “For yelling at you." He sighed. "You were doing exactly what I hired you to do."

A small smile touched her lips. "You were scared."

He nodded.

"Of what, getting shot? Shouldn’t you be used to that by now?” Natalia joked.

His eyes met hers. “No, it’s not that.”

She frowned slightly. "Then what?"

“At the prospect of losing you.” The words escaped before he could reconsider them.

For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. Natalia searched his face, as though trying to decide whether he'd meant them.

“That won’t ever happen," she whispered.

“You’re that confident?”

"I've always been talented,” she said.

“Yes, you are,” he said unthinkingly.

A soft and genuine laugh escaped her. She looked so beautiful at that moment, so unguarded. Alexei lifted a hand slowly, giving her every opportunity to stop him. She didn’t. In fact, Natalia let him brush a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear.

Alexei brushed his knuckles against her cheek, pleased she leaned into the touch almost imperceptibly.

"I was terrified," he admitted. "When that glass broke ... all I could think about was pulling you away from the bullets."

"You were supposed to stay down."

“I’m aware,” he said.

"You don't follow orders very well."

"I might’ve learned from you,” Alexei said.