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His entire body is tense, and I can see how much it costs him to turn me away. It’s more than desire between us. Much more. And Jesus, I want to be with him more than anything in this world. I won’t let him go, even if he fights me on this.
“We both know this is how it has to be.” His stare burns through me, imploring me to see reason. “You’re not from this life… this world. It destroys people.”
I reach up and stroke his face, and his eyes close beneath my touch. “I’m not your mother.” He flinches at my blunt statement, but it’s something he has to hear. “What happened to your mother is terrible, and I’m so sorry. I hate that you and your siblings have to live with that, but history doesn’t always repeat. My eyes are wide open, and you are the man I want.”
He stands up and paces the room, his face anguished. The trauma of losing his mother as a little boy is still buried deep in his soul. “I wish life was that simple. If not Oleg, there will be someone else. Another vicious enemy willing to hurt you to get to me.” His hands curl into fists as he stops at the edge of the bed. “Seeing you hurt like that, not knowing if you were going to live, it fucking wrecked me. If something ever happened to you, especially because of me, I wouldn’t survive it. I’d rather set you free and never see you again, than put you in danger.”
The energy between us expands and contracts, like a shock-wave. It has its own force that we’re both caught up in, twisting and turning in its wild depths. My only choice is to surrender.
“Then protect me. You have the money and resources to keep me safe.”
He swallows, his shoulders settling in resignation. “You are not in any shape to decide what’s best right now.” He holds up a hand. “I won’t make that decision for you, but I will give you time and space. When you decide, it needs to be with a clear mind, when you’re stronger. Rest now.” He leans in and kisses my forehead—once, then twice—his feelings communicated through the touch of his lips to my skin. “I’ll send your father in to see you after the doctor.”
He turns away from me, taking three steps towards the door before pausing. He doesn’t turn around to look at me before he speaks again. “Andkrasotka, don’t make a rash decision, because next time, I won’t have the strength to turn you away.”
He leaves the room. As the door closes behind him, I rest my head against the soft pillow and refuse to acknowledge the raw ache in my chest at the possibility that Andrei may still choose to protect me in his own misguided way.
Chapter42
GEORGIA
It takes weeks for me to recover. Weeks lying in Andrei’s bed, his smell permeating the room, his presence everywhere, though I never see him. As promised, he gives me space. I feel him though. In the dead of night, he comes to me. Through the veil of sleep, I feel his touch, hear my name on his lips, feel him beside me. Knowing he can’t stay away is a balm for my soul.
Finally, days spent bedridden turn into days punctuated with short walks down the hall. With time, I gain enough strength to walk outside and sit in the sunshine with my father or Kira, my two constant companions. Natalia joins me for a game of gin rummy daily at four o’clock, and even the Kozlov brothers check-in once in a while, arms laden with magazines, books, and various snacks. Daniil even sneaks me some vodka, but when Kira discovers my little stash, she nearly loses her mind.
No one’s been as dedicated to my recovery as Kira. She’s apologized more times than I can count until I finally told her I wouldn’t allow her to visit me if she kept on apologizing. Guilt still fills her eyes occasionally, like when I wince getting out of bed, but I assure her, as I’ve assured Andrei, everything turned out as it was supposed to.
And it brought me immense pleasure to kill Oleg, and to know that he won’t be able to hurt anyone ever again. Especially after all the devastation he caused.
Kira, as the Antonov heir, gave my father back the lease to the restaurant, refusing anything in return. Claiming it was the least she could do after all we had been through at her father’s hands. The Kozlovs are even helping my father with the restaurant, renovating it back to its former glory.
When she’s not with me, Kira spends her time dismantling the rotten bits of the Antonov empire and merging the parts she wants to keep with the Kozlovs. She got more than her heart’s desire—a seat at the table and a family—and nothing makes me happier.
I’m nearly one hundred percent recovered, feeling stronger than ever. Even though the Kozlovs’ personal physician has already given me a clean bill of health to take up everyday activities, everyone is encouraging me to take more time to recover. I promised to take it easy, but I let them know in no uncertain terms that I would start up regular life activities soon.
I am clear about one thing: moving forward, I need to put my passion first. I’ll always be there for my dad, and help him through whatever comes next, but now I have to pursue what makes me happy. I am going to continue chasing the joy I’ve found living here with Andrei. I’ve decided to go back to college, but this time focus on drawing and painting with the hope of one day becoming an art teacher. I also plan to keep up Krav Maga lessons, because, damn my ass is looking fine if I may say so myself.
Tonight, Kira has organized a celebratory dinner for my last night as a patient. Tomorrow, I am free to do as I please, and go where I please. Even if that means leaving the Kozlov estate and never turning back.
As I step into the grand dining room, tears threaten to fall down my face. Everyone I hold near and dear is gathered in one room. And sitting at the head of the table is Andrei, his eyes trained on me, flashing with an intensity I haven’t seen before.
Breathlessly, I walk towards him. He’s devastating as he pulls out the chair beside him and motions for me to sit down. Dressed in a tailored dark suit, as if he knows his bespoke suits are my weakness. His inked hands grip the back of my chair, pulling it out for me to take a seat. His nearness, after all this time, shakes me to my very core, and causes delicious shivers to run up my spine.
My father sits across from me with Natalia beside him, Kira on my left, the Kozlov brothers at the far end of the table with Yulian, and his wife, Rowan, who I am meeting for the first time tonight. It’s a strangely thrilling sight; my father is at the table with my onetime captors. Kira, once known as Piper, breaking bread with her former employers, now her family. My stomach bubbles with joy, because somehow, everything seems to have worked out.
Andrei takes his seat after tucking me in, and the energy between us is on fire. Weeks of not seeing this man and my panties may self-combust. A host of servers enters the room, carrying platters laden with delicious smelling food. Even with the commotion, it’s impossible to tear my eyes away from Andrei. Was he always so damn fine? This man, with his impossibly handsome face and protected heart, is my undoing.
Daniil clears his throat loudly from the other end of the table. “We can leave you two alone if you prefer.”
My cheeks flame, but I playfully narrow my eyes at him. “Hilarious,” I say, just as Andrei says, “Please do.”
He leans back in his seat and raises his eyebrows at us, while Kira gives him a playful slap on the arm—a warning to behave. “As if that’s any fun,” he drawls.
Leo, looking more at ease than I’ve ever seen him, rests his eyes on his sister. The spark of affection in his gaze tugs at my heart. “Kira, one thing you will learn about Daniil here is that behaving is not his strong-suit. In fact, he much prefers to misbehave. Best to ignore him. It’s like feeding ducks. If you start, they’ll chase you around looking for scraps of food.”
Kira, glowing in the candlelight, rests a finger on her lips. “I’ll keep that in mind. Although it’s really hard to ignore him when he brings me all that baklava he keeps on making.”
My father laughs heartily. “I’m afraid that is my fault. I taught Daniil how to make it at the restaurant, and he’s become quite the little pastry chef. After you master the Greek pastries, we may have to move on to Russian sweets.”
