Chapter 19 #2
He stares up at me, stunned, the wind knocked out of him—both literally and figuratively. I can see it in his eyes, that flicker of disbelief. And then something darker ignites behind it.
His pride may be bruised, but the desire now blazing in his gaze more than makes up for it. “You’re enjoying this way too much,” he mutters.
“Careful, Konstantin. You’re dangerously close to being impressed.”
“I am,” he admits. “But mostly I’m now wondering what else you’re hiding in this apartment. Maybe a sword under the mattress? Land mines in the laundry hamper?”
I roll my eyes. “You know, just because you’re good-looking doesn’t mean you’re funny.”
He laughs low in his throat. “No, but it buys me time.”
He surges up suddenly, grabbing my hips and flipping us in one smooth motion. My back hits the wall as his mouth claims mine—hot, bruising, wild. I gasp against him, but the sound dies in his kiss.
His body is flush with mine, one hand gripping the wall beside my head, the other tangled in my hair. It’s not just want—it’s everything we’ve buried in silence. Fear. Fury. Longing. All of it.
And under it, the quiet, devastating truth:
We don’t know how long we’ll have this.
He pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes wild and clear and completely focused.
“I need your help, Nadya,” he says hoarsely. “I need you if I’m going to survive what’s coming.”
My breath catches.
Because for all his power, for all the fear his name inspires—
He’s not just asking me to fight with him. He’s asking me to stand beside him. And I don’t think he’s ever asked anyone that before.
I push him away. He backs off. “Why me?”
“I don’t know who else to trust,” he says.
“You have Lev.”
He chuckles softly, looking outside before stepping toward the worn sofa and sitting down carefully, as though afraid of disturbing the fragile peace. I sit beside him, leaving space between us—space that feels filled with memories and hurt and tentative hope.
“I’ve never really had a family,” he says finally, his voice low, hesitant, as if sharing something he rarely speaks of.
“My father has always held control. He likes to remind me I exist because he chose not to get rid of me. My mother—she was his mistress. He never loved her, never even pretended to. She was a possession, a secret. Something disposable.”
My throat tightens, heart aching unexpectedly for the child he must have been. “What happened to her?”
“She died when I was twelve. An overdose, though I doubt it was accidental.” His voice roughens, bitterness threaded through his words. “That’s the way he operates. He doesn’t tolerate weakness, or anything that might threaten his perfect family facade.”
His gaze drops, jaw clenching. “I think he was behind what happened in Barcelona. It was a message. A reminder that he owns me. That any happiness I find is temporary.”
I reach out instinctively, touching his hand. His fingers curl around mine immediately, gripping tightly—an anchor, a lifeline.
“Why stay?” I ask softly. “You’re strong enough to break away.”
He meets my eyes, and for the first time I see true fear there. “Because he destroys what I love. He destroyed my mother without a second thought. I can’t let him near you or the kids. I have to play by his rules, at least for now. Until I’m sure I can keep you safe.”
Emotion thickens my throat, hot tears prickling at my eyes. For the first time, I see past the power, past the ruthless facade, to the frightened boy he once was, and the man he’s desperately trying to become.
“I won’t let him near them, Konstantin,” I whisper fiercely. “We won’t.”
He squeezes my hand tighter, pulling me gently toward him. I let him, leaning into the solidity of his chest, inhaling the faint scent of rain and cologne and something uniquely him. It feels right, and terrifying.
We sit in quiet closeness, the silence easier now. Both of us broken by our pasts, cautiously reaching toward a shared future—one we’re both desperately hoping won’t shatter beneath our fingertips.
“We’ll figure it out,” he murmurs, resting his chin softly atop my head.
And for the first time, wrapped in the quiet safety of his embrace, I believe we just might.
We return to the hospital in silence, Nikolai’s medication records clutched tightly in my hand, Konstantin’s careful presence at my side still feeling strangely comforting.
I never imagined bringing him into my world—their world—could ever feel safe.
And yet something inside me softens, just a little, as I watch him navigate the careful steps of being a father.
We enter the hospital quietly, and I head straight to Nikolai’s room, while Konstantin pauses in the hallway when he spots Dr. Rhodes quietly discussing Nikolai’s charts with Dr. Halberd, Nikolai’s regular doctor. I slow my pace, lingering just behind the open door, curious despite myself.
“Dr. Rhodes, Dr. Halberd,” Konstantin begins, his tone carefully controlled. “Can I have a word?”
“Of course,” Dr. Rhodes replies evenly, though I can sense the cautious edge in his voice.
“I appreciate what you’re both doing for my son,” Konstantin continues, his voice quiet, measured, genuinely humble in a way I hadn’t expected.
“And I realize bringing you in abruptly, Dr. Rhodes, without consulting Dr. Halberd first, was…impulsive. My intentions were good, but my method wasn’t. For that, I apologize.”
My lips part slightly. Konstantin apologizing—no threats, no intimidation? This isn’t the man I thought I knew.
Dr. Halberd adjusts his glasses, looking skeptical but attentive. “Mr. Konstantin, I’ve been Nikolai’s physician since his diagnosis. I understand your urgency, but his case is complex—”
“I understand that now,” Konstantin cuts in gently. “Which is why I’m asking you to collaborate. Nikolai deserves the best care, and both of you are excellent doctors. I’m not here to throw around power. I’m asking you—as a father—to please help my son, together.”
A silence follows, thick and thoughtful. Then Dr. Halberd exchanges a brief glance with Dr. Rhodes, both men silently weighing the sincerity of Konstantin’s plea.
Finally, Dr. Rhodes nods slowly. “I agree. Combining our experience will provide Nikolai with the most effective treatment.”
“Agreed,” Dr. Halberd says softly. “I appreciate your honesty, Mr. Konstantin. We’ll work together.”
Konstantin’s quiet relief is palpable even from here. “Thank you,” he says simply.
I step back quickly, heart pounding. When Konstantin enters Nikolai’s room a few moments later, his expression remains neutral, but his gaze finds mine immediately.
“You heard?” he murmurs.
I glance away, embarrassed but grateful. “Yes. Thank you.”
He gives a slight nod, looking faintly uncomfortable with my gratitude but accepting it all the same.
Half an hour later, Dr. Rhodes and Dr. Halberd rejoin us. They’ve been speaking quietly, comparing notes and medication dosages. Eventually, Dr. Rhodes addresses us both, his demeanor reassuring.
“Nikolai’s stable now. We’ve adjusted his medications to better manage his symptoms and keep his heart steady. You can take him home tonight, under careful supervision.”
My heart swells, overwhelmed. “Really?”
Dr. Halberd smiles warmly. “You’ve always handled his care meticulously, Nadya. With Dr. Rhodes’s input, we’re confident Nikolai is in excellent hands. And with Mr. Konstantin involved now, he’ll have even greater support.”
Tears prick at my eyes, and I glance toward Konstantin. His expression is serious, committed.
“Yes,” he says quietly. “He will.”
The doctors leave us, and Konstantin steps closer. We stand side-by-side, watching Nikolai sleep peacefully.
“We’re going to get through this,” he murmurs softly. “Together.”
And for the first time, as I lean slightly into his steady warmth, I truly let myself believe him.