“Those protocols are excessive,” she fires back. “And you know it.”
There's something magnetic about her indignation, about the way she refuses to back down, that sass I so love shining right through.
My blood, still hot with anger, redirects its heat southward. The shift is unwelcome but undeniable. Lilibeth, all flushed with anger and righteousness, is turning me on so badly that I have to shift in my seat to accommodate the growing discomfort.
“You have no idea what's excessive in our world,” I say, my voice dropping lower, rougher. “No idea what men would do to get to me through you.”
“Then teach me!” Her hands fly up in exasperation, inadvertently drawing my attention to the swell of her breasts beneath her cashmere sweater. “Instead of locking me away like some fairy tale princess, teach me what to look for, how to protect myself!”
I clench my fists against my thighs, fighting the urge to grab her, to silence her protests with my mouth, to channel all this furious energy into something else entirely. I want her anger, want to feel it explode against me, want her to fight and yield in the same breath.
But that's not what she needs. I’m going to have to show some restraint, or else my actions would be unbecoming.
“You think this is a game?” I ask. “You think knowing what to look for will save you if someone decides to make an example of you?”
“I think treating me like I have a brain might be a good start!” She's trembling now with suppressed rage.
“Your brothers—”
“My brothers sheltered me too much, and you know it.” Her voice cracks slightly. “I've spent my entire life fighting to be heard over them, and even then, they never tried to understand. And now I'm fighting to be heard over you. It’s tiring and exhausting, and I don’t want my life to be like this all the time.”
Her voice trembles toward the end, and I watch as her eyes well, but she refuses to let the tears fall. In this moment, I know just how much pain she’s in. This isn't pettiness or rebellion for its own sake. This is a woman who's spent a lifetime being dismissed, being protected to the point of suffocation.
I can’t imagine what that must feel like.
She takes a deep breath, seeming to brace herself, as if expecting me to brush her off and crush her spirit. Her chin lifts, but I can see the uncertainty in her eyes. She's preparing for disappointment.
In that moment, guilt hits me deep in my chest. I’ll never apologize for protecting her, but there is something I know I wronged her in. I failed to see her.
“Tell me,” I say finally.
Her eyes widen slightly. “What?”
“Tell me your concerns. Your expectations.” I loosen my tie slightly, giving myself room to breathe. “I'm listening.”
Suspicion clouds her features. “You serious?”
“I’m serious.”
She hesitates for a moment, but then speaks.
“I need to see my family and a few friends, not that I have many in this city. Not just supervised visits, but real time with them. I need to meet more of yours, too, because I am a part of your family now.”
I nod, acknowledging this reasonable request.
Encouraged, she continues. “I need to learn about the business—not all of it, but enough to know what it is you do and where the danger lies. Enough to know who to trust if something happens to you.”
The pragmatism of this request surprises me. She's thinking like a Bratva wife already, planning for contingencies I'd rather she never face.
“And I need some freedom, Agafon. I can't be indoors all the time.” Her hands spread open in a gesture of honesty.“I'll take security with me. I'll follow protocols. But I need to breathe.”
The car slows as we approach the compound, the driver waiting for the security gate to open. I consider her words carefully, weighing risks against rewards, weighing her needs against my instinct to protect what's mine.
“Your family visits can be arranged.”
Relief softens her features, and now I long to see her smile.
“As for the business...” I pause, calculating how to go about it. “At some point, I’ll show you around. Not everything, but enough.”
