Page 86 of Bratva and Betrayal: Kirill

I reach for her without thinking, my hand closing around her waist to steady her as the memories pass until she can speak again.

“It’s all right,” I murmur. “I’m here. I’ll get you through this.”

She turns in my arms. “You kept these, even though you thought I left you on purpose.”

“It killed me to think that.” I choke up, showing her the person no one sees.

I push her against the wall, letting that old me come out. I kiss her again. It’s heat and memory as I sink into the familiarity of her mouth against mine.

She kisses me back, so I go harder. Deeper. Reminding her who I am. Preparing her, I tell myself. For the lover I remember I was. How rough I liked it and how she was with me every step of the way.

Then I feel I’m too much for her right now. She’s not ready. I pull back abruptly, my breath uneven, my control snapping back into place.

Her eyes search me with lips slightly parted. The vulnerability there hits harder than anything else has tonight. Then it’s she who closes the distance between us.

“Why did you stop?” she asks, breathless. “I really liked it.”

Every nerve in my body tightens dangerously. I shouldn’t go further. I know that. I shouldn’t give her hope since I don’t know what I want.

Fuck, I liked it, too.

“You asked for it.” I kiss her again, and this time the kiss is slower.

Controlled. But no less consuming. The taste of her is just as sweet, but there’s something edgier about it. She’s remembering. Remembering me. What I like. What she gave me.

When I pull away again, it takes more effort than the first time.

“You need to rest,” I tell her, my voice lower now, rougher. “You’ve had a long day.”

“But it was a great day,” she says softly. “I got my daughter back.”

My heart explodes hearing that. But I hide how it affects me by closing up the storage locker. Hand in hand, I bring her back to the main floor, and we trek through all the rooms that days ago I think scared her.

At the grand staircase to our wing, I tell her to walk ahead of me. Lust wars with me to take that kiss further when we reach her bedroom.

At her door, she turns to me with glassy eyes. She looks overwhelmed. It’s not the right time.

“Kirill,” she says my name. “Thank you.”

I smile. “For what?”

“For not forgetting about me. For not giving up on me.” She leans her head against the door. “For raising our daughter. And being a good father to her. For waiting. Even if you don’t want to admit it.”

Before I can say anything back, she whispers, “Good night.” And closes the door.

I’m shaking now, and the hall feels like it’s on fire as I make my way back to my office. There’s always Bratva business that needs my attention. I get a nightly report from Drago and often spend my evenings teaching someone a lesson. But the depth of everything happening between Sandrine and me is a heavier weight on my shoulders.

Drago is already in my office, leaning against the desk, phone to his ear.

He straightens when he sees me. “Change that. I’ll come alone.”

“What?” I unbutton my suit jacket.

“You look fucked in the head,” Drago snaps. “I need to collect a debt. You don’t look up to it.”

“I was supposed to hate her,” I say, dragging a hand through my hair in frustration. “That was the plan. Drag her back. Be the brutal, cruel pakhan who didn’t love his wife.”

Like my fucking father.