Chapter 11
Olek
Imade it halfway back to the main house before I had to stop and lean against a tree.
My hands were shaking.
Fuck.
I'd lost control. Completely. The moment I walked into that bathroom and saw her on her knees scrubbing tile instead of in my study where she was supposed to be, something in me had snapped.
The fear had been immediate and visceral.
Something happened to her. Marcus found her. She's hurt. She's gone.
Then, Mikhail had radioed that her car was still in the lot, her phone pinging from the guest house, and fear had morphed into fury.
She'd forgotten about me. About us. She was pulling away, and I couldn't, wouldn't let that happen.
So, I'd done what I always did when I felt things slipping through my fingers.
I'd taken control. Reminded her who she belonged to. Made sure she felt me for days.
I pushed off the tree and started walking again, forcing my breathing to steady. The sex had been brutal. Necessary. I'd needed to stake my claim, needed to hear her say she was mine. But that kiss. Christ, that kiss at the end.
I'd meant to leave her with a reminder. A warning. Instead, I'd kissed her like I was trying to pour every feeling I couldn't say into her mouth. Because I couldn't say them.
We had a little under two months left. She had a sister to protect, a life to escape to. And I had a Bratva to run, enemies who'd use her against me if they knew how much she meant to me. I stopped again, running my hand through my hair.
When had it become more than the contract? More than just incredible sex and sharp banter? Week two, probably. When she'd fallen asleep in my arms and I'd stayed awake for hours, just watching her breathe.
Or maybe week three, when I'd caught myself buying her favorite coffee instead of mine.
When I'd started arranging my meetings around her schedule so I could see her more.
Or maybe it had been from the beginning, from the moment she'd pushed against my chest in that pantry and looked at me like I was just a man instead of something to fear.
I was in love with her. Completely. Catastrophically. In love with my head maid who was supposed to walk away when this was over.
"Fuck," I said out loud.
It had begun sometime ago, and I’d made it worse by entering into this agreement with her.
I didn’t expect her to be so sweet and caring.
To feel so good. To taste so damn delicious.
She was supposed to be an itch that I scratched.
Now I was obsessed with her in a way that was lethal.
What the fuck was I supposed to do with that?
"Boss?"
I looked up. Mikhail stood at the edge of the garden, concern on his face.
"I'm fine."
"You look like you're having a crisis."
"I'm not."
"You sure?"
"Drop it." I straightened my jacket. "Are the guests arriving?"
"Starting to. The Volkov brothers just pulled up. Your cousin Dmitri texted—he'll be here in twenty." Mikhail studied me. "Katrina usually handles the room assignments. Want me to find her?"
"No." The word came out too fast. "She's—busy. I'll have everyone gather for drinks first. She can show them to their rooms later."
Mikhail's eyebrow rose, but he didn't comment. "You sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine."
"Because you've been different lately. Happier. But also," he paused, "more intense. More possessive."
"Your point?"
"My point is that whatever's happening between you and Katrina, it's getting serious. And I need to know if that's going to be a problem."
"It's not a problem."
"Isn't it?" Mikhail moved closer, lowering his voice. "You're falling for her. Maybe already fallen. And when this ends, I don’t want to have to bury another body."
"It doesn't end."
The words were out before I could stop them.
Mikhail went very still. "Olek…"
"She's not leaving." I met his eyes. "I'm not letting her leave."
"Does she know that?"
"Not yet."
"And what if she wants to leave, anyway?"
"She won't." I couldn't let myself believe otherwise. "She feels it too. I know she does."
"Feeling something and staying are two different things." Mikhail's voice was gentle. "You can't force her, brother. Even for you, some things have to be freely given."
"I know that."
"Do you?"
I didn't answer.
Mikhail sighed. "Just—be careful. Both of you. This could get messy."
"It's already messy." I started toward the house. "Come on. Let's greet our guests."
By the time I made it to the front entrance, three cars had arrived. The Volkov brothers—Dmitri and Cori—were already inside, helping themselves to my vodka. My cousin Adam pulled up with his wife, Irina. And Sergei, one of my lieutenants, had brought his new girlfriend.
"Olek!" Dmitri clapped me on the back. "Good to see you. Where's this famous hospitality? Usually someone's here to take our bags."
"My head of staff is finishing preparations." I gestured toward the study. "Drinks first. She'll show you to your rooms shortly."
"Head of staff." Cori grinned. "That the maid everyone's been talking about? The one Mikhail says has you—"
"Careful," I warned.
Cori’s grin widened. "Protective. Interesting."
Adam appeared with Irina, who immediately hugged me. "Cousin! It's been too long. When do we meet this woman who's managed to civilize you?"
"I'm not civilized."
"You're smiling. That's practically civil for you." She patted my cheek. "We're dying to meet her. I bet she’s stunning."
More cars arrived. More family, more friends. My home was filled with noise and laughter and people who'd known me my whole life.
People who'd notice if I kept glancing toward the hallway, waiting for her to appear.
"Relax," Mikhail said quietly beside me. "She'll be here."
"I know."
"Do you? Because you look like you're about to send out a search party."
I forced myself to turn away from the hallway.
To engage with my guests. To pretend my mind wasn't in that bathroom, replaying every moment.
The way she'd taken everything I gave her.
The tears on her face. The way she'd looked at me when I made her promise, like I was someone worth keeping promises for.
I'd kissed her like she was oxygen and I was drowning.
Twenty minutes passed. Thirty. I was pouring drinks when I finally saw her. She appeared in the doorway, composed and professional in a fresh uniform. Her hair was perfect. Her makeup was flawless. Nothing about her suggested she'd been thoroughly fucked less than an hour ago.
Except I knew. I could see the slight flush on her neck. The careful way she moved. The fact that she wouldn't quite meet my eyes. Good. Let her remember. Let her feel me with every step.
"Mr. Sidorov." She gave a small nod. "My apologies for the delay. I'm ready to show your guests to their rooms now."
So formal. So distant. Like I hadn't just had my dick in her ass.
"Thank you, Katrina." I kept my voice equally professional. "Everyone, this is Katrina, my head of household. She'll get you settled."
"Finally!" Irina beamed. "Come, you must tell me everything. How do you manage him? We've been trying for years. Maybe I should have you come run my house."
Katrina's lips curved in a polite smile. "He's very particular about his standards. But manageable."
"Manageable," Dmitri repeated, grinning. "I like her already."
I watched Katrina lead the group away, fielding questions and compliments with practiced ease. She was good at being charming and professional and completely untouchable.
No one would know that an hour ago she'd been crying my name.
No one would know she was mine. Except me.
And time suddenly felt like a lifetime and no time at all.
Because I was going to have to figure out how to convince her to stay.
How to make her see that this wasn't just about the agreement anymore.
That somewhere this had become real. And I didn't know how to do that without scaring her away.
"You're staring," Mikhail said.
"I'm observing."
"You're besotted."
I didn't deny it.
I couldn't.
Because he was right. I was completely, utterly smitten with Katrina.
That’s when it hit me. I was either going to have to convince her to stay. Or lose the best thing that had ever happened to me. That’s when I made my decision. I needed to find a way to make her stay.