He sighs, as if I’ve dared to pierce his heart. “Does it matter who I am?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper. “I can’t tell until you tell me who you are.”
There’s a moment of silence—time that he spends thinking—and then when he speaks, I find my anger simmering down.
“I’m a man who makes mistakes, Arina. I love my family, you know that? I have six brothers and two sisters.”
“Eight siblings?” I squeak, suddenly interested.
“Mm-hmm,” he mumbles, his eyes growing tired. “There’s Agafon, our eldest. He’s got these stormy grey eyes, and as a kid, when he got mad…” he begins to tell me about his siblings, and I listen, hold on to every word.
“I’ll do anything for them, you know?” he tells me after. “To protect them, I’ve done things I’m not proud of, but in my eyes, those things were never without reason. Do you hate me for that?”
The way he asks makes me want to choose my words carefully. For some reason, from all his deflecting and admissions, I think what I feel about him matters.
Softly, I whisper. “How can I hate a man for being so honorable in defense of his family?”
His eyes blast open now and connect with mine from where he lies beside me. Time stretches, warps, and I realize how close he is. A few more inches, and I could have him right next to me, hear the roaring in his heart.
“I know.” He clears his throat painfully. “You want answers. But I’ve told you all I could. Beyond this, there’s nothing more. The details aren’t necessary, are they?”
“What I know,” I recap, “Is that you own hotels and casinos and you’ve got people who don’t want you doing business here. Is there anything else I should know, Ilariy? About who you are, what you do? I’m fine not having details, but I don’t want any lies between us.”
“I…” he sighs. “No. There’s nothing more to say, Arina.”
I want to believe this is who he is. A man who cares about his family. Who makes mistakes but isn’t cruel. Who talks about his siblings like they’re sacred.
He looks so tired, like he’s fighting demons in his mind, like he’s thinking of the times his family’s been hurt, and for some reason, I don’t want to itch that wound.
Despite everything, I find myself whispering. “Goodnight, Ilariy.”
“Goodnight, Arina.”
He turns off the night lamp, and the room plunges into complete darkness. I lie awake for a while, still handcuffed, but his breathing is slow, like he’s already asleep.
I should hate him for the position he’s put me in, but for some reason, I find his presence comforting. Slowly, my eyes close shut, and I find myself drifting. I think I dream it when his body brushes over mine, when he carefully releases me and lays my hand by my side to gently massage the skin the handcuff dug into.
Chapter 9 - Ilariy
I wake up thinking I’m dreaming, for it can’t be true that I have a woman curled up against me. But then, the memories from last night rush back in, and I open my eyes to see Arina curled against me, her ass digging into my crotch, her back touching my chest.
She’s still wearing that dress I got her—that gorgeous pink chiffon—and from where I lie, I can see it’s riding down her chest, her breasts spilling out in a dangerous manner.
I find my cock aching, hard against the soft curve of her ass.
Fuck.
I shouldn’t have handcuffed her to my bed. I know I didn’t have a choice, and the smart thing to do would be to carefully pull away before she wakes and pretend this didn’t happen, but I can’t help wanting one more minute with her.
She feels like she fits right against my body, like she was made for me. And no matter how hard my brain screams to get out of bed, my body has a mind of its own, and it’s causing a rebellion.
She sighs softly and nestles closer, and on impulse, I slide my hand around her waist, my elbow resting on her hips as I pull her closer.
Last night, for the most part, was one of the most beautiful nights I’ve shared with a woman. I still remember how utterly divine she looked as she closed her eyes and savored what was on her plate, how pretty she looked when the wind swept her hair as she walked, how hooked she kept me with her retellings of her day, finding magic in the smallest of things.
Last night didn’t just feel like a meal; it felt like more. And I know it’s crazy to think I’m growing attached to Arina Sokolov when her brothers destroyed my family.
But in this moment, all I can think about is how perfectly she fits against me.
