Chapter 14 Benedikt
Benedikt
The drive back feels like moving through fog.
Sienna is pressed up against the door, staring blankly out the window.
Artem’s in the front seat, and I’m next to her in the back, close enough to feel her body tremble now and then, but far enough that she doesn’t pull away.
The gunshot to my brother’s head still rings in my ears. So is the sound she made when she thought she’d been hit.
And then my damn voice afterward.
I want you to marry me. Tonight.
Christ.
What the hell was I thinking?
I run a hand over my face, rest my elbow on the armrest, and look at her profile in the passing glow of streetlights.
She looks exhausted and beautifully haunted.
I can’t blame her.
I just killed my brother in front of her, and decided that five minutes later was a good time to ask for forever.
“Sienna,” I start quietly. “I shouldn’t have said that back there.” Her eyes stay on the window. Not even a glance my way. “I wasn’t thinking straight. You went through hell in there, and I should’ve been more human about it. I apologize.”
A few beats pass before she says, “What are you apologizing for, Benedikt?”
“Everything.”
Sienna shifts her weight, and I see her body deflate. “Apology accepted.” Then, she tacks on softly, “Why do you want to marry me at all? We’re done in five years. You’ll move on, I’ll move on. So why do this?”
That stirs something in me. A kind of ache that fills my chest.
“Because it’s what I want,” I say simply. “Because I’m a man who protects what’s his. I want to provide for you. Protect you. Love you. Until I die.”
She finally turns toward me. Her eyes are shiny but unreadable. “You keep saying that.”
“I mean it.”
“You barely know me.”
“I know all the right parts, princess. You’re kind and motivated. You’re beautiful and sassy. And I know how your body reacts to me even though you hate it.”
“Love is complicated, Ben. I don’t think you’re capable.”
“How many more men do you want me to kill to prove to you that you’re the one I want?”
“None. I want trust. And a love that won’t suffocate me.”
I stare at her and at the small swell of her stomach that she unconsciously touches whenever she’s scared.
For the first time tonight, I feel the weight of what she’s asking for. It’s not softness she wants; it’s space.
Air.
A version of me that doesn’t need to keep proving everything through blood and threats.
The kind of man she deserves, not the one I’ve become.
I want to tell her I don’t know how to be that man. Every instinct I have is to grab tighter and to protect until there’s nothing left. But if I say that out loud, I’ll lose her before I’ve even had a chance.
Instead, I reach over slowly enough that she can pull away if she wants, and rest my hand on hers.
“I’ll learn how,” I tell her quietly. “To give you that. The trust. The space. Whatever the hell you need.”
She looks at me for long enough that I start to think she’s going to say no to everything—me, marriage, and a life I’m trying to build around her.
Then, finally, she exhales and says, “Fine.”
I blink. “Fine?”
“Yeah.” She looks at me now. “We can get married. But I want an agreement written up. If, in five years, I want to leave, you let me go. No questions, no strings.”
I study her for a long moment. She’s set her terms, and I respect the hell out of her for it.
“Alright,” I say finally. “And when that time comes—if that time comes—you can take whatever you want.”
“And custody?”
“Half and half,” I say. “I’ll pay alimony. Private schools. College. Cars—”
“No. I just want to see what it’s like. Being Mrs. Volkov.”
That pulls a real smirk out of me for the first time tonight. “Mrs. Volkov…”
That’s the first time I’ve heard it out loud, and I love it.
“Yes,” she says softly. “I want to see what you’ll do to win me over.”
“I’ll treat you like the queen you are, princess.”
“Three months,” she states. “I want… three months.”
I bob my head even though I don’t know what she’s talking about. “Okay.”
She lifts one of her brows. “You didn’t ask for what?”
“It doesn’t matter. Whatever you want, it’s yours.”
A ghost of a smile glows from her face before she straightens it. “The wedding. I don’t…want to remember tonight. I want something special.”
Of course, she does, you dumbass.
“I understand.” I nod. “You just tell me where to be.”
“Italy,” she mutters. “You talked about it. Seems like you like it.”
“I was supposed to be exiled there, so it’s not that great.”
Sienna lifts her shoulders. “Maybe you still will be. Depends on how you act in these next three months.”
That earns a small laugh out of me, the first genuine one in what feels like weeks. “You threatening me with my own exile now?”
“Just saying,” she replies noncommittally. “If you screw this up, I’ll ship you there myself, with one suitcase and a note that says ‘do better.’”
I can’t help but grin at that. “You planning to visit me, at least?”
“Maybe. Depends on how dramatic your begging letters are.”
“Letters?” I scoff. “Princess, I’d fly back in a heartbeat.”
“Not if I have the pilot on my side.” She counters with a smirk. “And even then, I’ll lock you out of the house.”
“That’s brutal, princess.”
“That’s called life lessons, Volkov.” She looks back at me with stunning honey-brown eyes. “You need them.”
And for the first time since the gun went off, she doesn’t look scared. Just thoughtful.
Hopeful.
Mercilessly even, which makes my dick hard.
Open to a life with me.
Outside, the city keeps moving, unaware of what just changed inside this car.
After tonight, there’s no going back for Sienna and me.
She will be my wife in three months.
And I will worship her for the rest of my life.