39. No Space, No Escape Mila
I wake up to the smell of coffee and something buttery. My eyes flutter open, and I see Rafael sitting on the edge of the bed with a tray balanced across his lap. Eggs, toast, fruit, and coffee, all laid out like some Instagram-perfect breakfast spread.
“So much for giving me space,” I mumble, my voice scratchy with sleep.
“There is no space between us,” he grumbles. “I was losing my mind without you.”
I roll my eyes, trying to mask how much his words twist something deep inside me. “You’re insane,” I mutter, sitting up against the pillows.
“Yes,” he says without hesitation, his lips quirking into a small smile. “I am. For you.”
I don’t respond, focusing instead on the food in front of me. My stomach growls in betrayal, and he hears it, smirking as I grab a fork and start eating.
“We need to talk,” he tells me.
I pause mid-bite, then set the fork down, crossing my arms. “My schedule is packed, Rafael,” I say briskly. “There’s nothing left to discuss.”
Lie. There’s everything to discuss. Everything that I’ve bottled up since the last time I saw him, everything I felt when he wasn’t there. But I can’t go there yet, not now.
His jaw ticks. He studies me, those sharp eyes of his picking me apart.
“Eat,” he orders, nodding toward the plate.
“I’m not hungry anymore.” Another lie.
I’m starving after staying up all night. He kept me on edge, doing things to me that my upbringing taught me were dirty, shameful even. But the way he touched me, the way he claimed me, it felt anything but. It was as if every moment, every sensation, was made to break the rules and rewrite them in a way that made me feel alive.
He doesn’t accept it. He picks up a piece of strawberry and holds it to my lips. “You stopped eating. Finish.”
I turn my head, but he doesn’t back off. “Mila… I didn’t know if you were eating. Or if you were sleeping. I didn’t know if you were taking care of yourself when we were apart. Please.” His tone shifts to something almost pleading. “Allow me this, Kroshka . Let me take care of you.”
I part my lips, letting him feed me the strawberry. He exhales like I’ve just lifted some unbearable weight off his chest.
“Good,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing against the corner of my mouth. “That’s my girl.”
I swallow, my throat tight. I don’t pull away when he picks up another piece of fruit. A part of me, the part I’m not ready to entertain, missed this. Missed him.
But another part of me, the one still simmering with frustration, isn’t ready to forgive so easily.
“We’re still not talking,” I say, my tone clipped even as I take another bite he offers.
“You’ll let me in again. You always do.”
I don’t answer. Because the worst part is… he’s probably right.
I push the tray of half-eaten breakfast aside and swing my legs off the bed, brushing crumbs off my lap as I stand.
“I need to get ready,” I mutter.
He doesn’t respond, but I feel him watching me as I grab my clothes and head to the bathroom. I come out, dressed in jeans and a plain blouse, and my hair is still a little damp from the rushed splash of water. He’s leaning casually against the doorframe, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, tie in hand, and the scars of my name visible on his skin.
“You, um… let Sam stay the night, right?”
His head tilts slightly, green eyes narrowing. “Yes.”
Relief floods me. “Okay, good. Then Sam and I will head to uni together.”
“Sam isn’t here.”
I freeze, confusion turning quickly into irritation. “What? You said he stayed the night!”
“He did.” His voice is maddeningly calm, like he’s waiting for me to catch up to something he already knows.
“Then where is he?”
Rafael hands slide casually into his pockets. “One of my men arranged college accommodations for him. He left early this morning.”
“College accommodations?” My voice rises. “Rafael, those are expensive! He doesn’t —”
“It was bothering you.”
I blink, caught off guard. “What?”
“Was this thing with Sam bothering you?” he repeats, his eyes searching mine.
“Well, yes, but—”
“Then I would’ve spent much more than I did to resolve it,” he cuts in, stepping closer. “Nothing bothers you, Mila. Not while I’m alive and breathing.”
His words knock the air out of me, and for a moment, I don’t know how to respond. My lips part, but no sound comes out, so instead, I change the subject. “What time is it?”
“Eleven.”
My heart stops. “Eleven?” I screech. “I was supposed to be in uni by ten!”
I rush to the mirror, frantically pulling my hair into a quick ponytail and shoving my feet into the nearest pair of shoes. “I’m so late,” I utter under my breath, grabbing my bag.
Behind me, Rafael moves with infuriating calm. He’s already dressed, a sleek black suit that fits him like a second skin. He adjusts his cufflinks, watching my panicked state like he finds it endearing.
“I let you sleep in,” he says simply. “You needed the rest after last night. You were tired.”
I whirl around to face him, one hand clutching my bag. “Tired or not, I have responsibilities, Rafael. You could’ve—”
“I’ll drive you.” He’s already reaching for his keys.
“I can go myself—”
“You’re late.”
I sigh, throwing my bag over my shoulder.
“Fine.”
Rafael drives with one hand on the wheel, the other draped loosely over the gearshift. I sit stiffly in the passenger seat, clutching my bag like it might shield me from his overwhelming presence.
When he pulls up to the campus entrance, I unbuckle my seatbelt and reach for the door. “Thanks for the ride,” I say quickly, eager to escape.
But before I can step out, his hand catches the hem of my shirt. “You didn’t say goodbye.”
“Oh. Right. Sorry. Goodbye.”
His mouth pulls into a frown, like I’ve just insulted him. “With your mouth, Kroshka .”
“No, I—” Before I can finish, he grabs me by the waist, dragging me closer across the center console. His lips crash against mine, consuming, relentless, making my stomach flip. I’m too stunned to push him away.
When he finally pulls back, I’m breathless. His grip loosens just enough for me to shove him lightly in the chest.
“You’re so annoying!” I bite out. I lean forward and bite his chin, not too hard, but enough to make my point before yanking myself free.
His laugh follows me as I scramble out of the car and rush toward the building. I slip into the physics lab and spot Sam and Mary at one of the lab tables. They both look up as I approach, and I drop onto the stool beside them, pulling out my notes.
“Sorry I’m late,” I mutter, keeping my head down.
“Yeah, you are,” Mary says, leaning closer. “Now spill.”
I glance at her, confused. “Spill what?”
“Don’t play dumb,” she groans. “Sam already told me about your guest. ”
I freeze, my pen hovering over my notebook. “Sam,” I warn.
“Sorry, Mila,” Sam mumbles, though the grin on his face tells me he’s anything but.
“He said this insanely hot guy stormed into your apartment, dragged you off like some alpha male, and then—”
“Okay, stop,” I interrupt, holding up a hand.
“And then,” Mary continues, ignoring me, “he paid for Sam’s dorm just so another guy wouldn’t be in your space. That is next-level.”
My cheeks burn. “Sam has a big mouth,” I accuse, glaring at him.
Sam shrugs, unrepentant. “What? It’s impressive. If I had someone like him, I’d brag too.”
Mary sighs dramatically, resting her chin in her hand. “I’m so jealous. Does he have a brother?”
“No,” I say flatly.
She glances at Sam, who raises an eyebrow. “Is he single?” Sam teases, smirking. “I mean, I’m not trying to steal him, but if he’s bi, we could work something out. Maybe a threesome?”
I groan, slapping a hand over Sam’s mouth before he can dig the hole any deeper. “Don’t even joke about that. He’d kill you if he heard.”
Sam laughs when I let go. I bury my face in my hands.
“So,” Mary says, dragging out the word. “Is he your boyfriend?”
I hesitate, the word husband stuck in my throat. “He’s my ex,” I mutter instead, hoping they’ll drop it.
Mary and Sam both gasp.
“Your ex ?” Mary says, incredulous. “Mila, he’s obsessed with you. You can’t let that kind of love go.”
Her words hit harder than I expect, lodging somewhere deep in my chest. I pick at the edge of my notebook.
I don’t know how to explain it to them, how complicated this all is. How I am not sure he can ever move on from the past and really love me, how we are toxic for each other.
So instead, I focus on my notes, pretending I’m ready for the day, when all I can think about is the man I just left in the car.
The sound of the door opening pulls me from my thoughts, and Professor Elliot—no, just Elliot —steps into the lab.
“How’s the project coming along?” he asks, setting his bag on the desk at the front.
Sam glances at me, then Mary, before speaking up. “Uh, we’re struggling a little.”
“A little?” Mary adds with a laugh, brushing her curly hair out of her face. “We’re trying to make sense of the thermal data from the logger, but the readings don’t line up with what we’re modeling.”
Elliot nods thoughtfully. “That’s completely normal. This stage is always tricky, and troubleshooting is part of the process. Don’t be discouraged.” He looks around at all of us. “I’m here to help. If there’s anything you don’t know how to use, just let me know, and I’ll train you.”
Mary perks up. “The data logger is half the problem. It’s been glitching all week.”
Elliot sighs, shaking his head. “I’ve reported it to the department three times now. It’s on their radar, I promise, but in the meantime, we’ll work around it. Focus on what you can do, and let me know if you hit any walls.”
I can’t help but smile. Elliot isn’t like most professors. He doesn’t hover over us or make us feel like we’re underqualified. He wants us to learn, to actually grow in this field. His intentions are so transparent, so pure, it’s not about his ego or the department’s reputation. He just wants people like us, people passionate about physics, to have the opportunities we deserve.
He catches me looking at him and grins. “Don’t let this project intimidate you, Mila. The simulation results might look messy now, but once you piece together the thermal data, it’ll start to click. Trust me.”
I nod, feeling oddly reassured.
“Alright,” Elliot says. “I have a meeting to run to, but keep at it. You’re closer than you think.”
“Thanks, Elliot,” Sam says.
Mary smirks. “See? I told you he’s the best professor we’ve ever had.”
Elliot points at her with a mock-serious look. “What did I say about calling me ‘professor’?”
“Right. Best Elliot we’ve ever had,” she corrects, grinning.
“Better,” he says, then waves as he heads out the door.
We leave the lab. I spot him outside, leaning against his car. Rafael is impossible to miss—broad shoulders, dark clothes, and that dangerous presence that makes my heart race and my palms sweat.
His eyes meet mine. I can’t look away.
Sam bumps his shoulder into mine, breaking the spell. “Go get your man,” he teases, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
Mary nudges me too. “Sam wasn’t kidding. He’s scary hot.”
I roll my eyes, heat crawling up my neck. “Goodbye,” I mutter, waving them off before I start toward Rafael.
As I approach him, I cross my arms. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m picking you up.”
I arch a brow, refusing to make this easy for him. “And what makes you think I’ll go with you?”
“Because you don’t have a choice.”
He scoops me up like I weigh nothing. I don’t even bother fighting. I’m tired. Tired of fighting him, tired of fighting us.
The drive to the penthouse is quiet. He doesn’t say a word, but his hand grips the wheel so tightly I can see the strain in his knuckles. When we arrive, he leads me inside.
“I stocked the fridge with ice cream,” he says. “I know you like it.”
“You did?”
He nods, pulling open the freezer and handing me a tub with a spoon. “Sit,” he orders, motioning to the couch.
I do as he says, too tired to argue. He sits next to me. I take a small bite, but the ice cream isn’t what’s on my mind. I know why he’s here.
“I need to apologize,” he says finally. “For everything. For forcing you into this marriage, for using your past against you, for being blind to who you really are.”
I stare at him, spoon frozen halfway to my mouth. “Why did you do it, Rafael? Why did you marry me? For revenge?”
His jaw tightens, and he looks away for a moment before meeting my gaze again. “No,” he admits. “It wasn’t for revenge. It was selfish. I just wanted you. I wanted you tied to me, bound to me, so you couldn’t leave.”
“I wanted you to feel the chaos you brought into my life. I wanted you to hurt the way I hurt. But none of it worked. It only made me want you more. Hurting you was easier than admitting that I needed you more than I’ve ever needed anything. Pushing you away while holding on tight was what I was doing from the start. Loving you felt like betrayal. To the Bratva, to myself. But not loving you wasn’t an option. Do you have any idea what kind of hell that is?” He continues. “I’ve fought every instinct to hate you, and instead, I’ve loved you in ways I never thought possible. Come back to me, Mila. Come back, and let me prove that we can bury the past.”
I pause, something else bubbling up inside me, a question that’s been tormenting me. “Even that day, when you protected me from the bullets, was that part of your plan too? Just another way to get back into my life so you could hurt me more?”
His expression darkens, his gaze locking onto mine, and for a moment, I think he might snap. But then, his voice softens. “No, Mila. When that first bullet rang out, all I could think about was you. Protecting you wasn’t a strategy—it was instinct. My heart knew what I kept denying. I love you. If something had happened to you that day, I would’ve died after you. Do you understand that?”
His desperation is palpable, but I can’t ignore the doubts swirling in my mind. “We bring out the worst in each other. What if we’re better off apart?”
“I don’t care if we destroy each other. I’d rather burn with you than live without you.”
“Rafael—”
“No,” he interrupts. “You don’t get to push me away, Mila. You’re mine. You’ve always been mine. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that I can be the man you deserve.”
“I am so fucking sorry,” he exhales. “For everything. For not being able to separate the past from the present. For looking at you and seeing him instead of you. You’re nothing like your father, Mila. And I was a fool for not seeing it sooner.”
I set the spoon down, staring at the swirl of ice cream as I gather my thoughts. “I think we’re toxic for each other, Rafael. There’s too much baggage, too much damage. We tear each other apart.”
His hand brushes mine and I look up. “If you’re my poison, Mila, then I’ll take you every day. Every hour. I’ll drink you down until there’s nothing left of me. I don’t care. I can’t live without you.”
“Rafael, your love for me will destroy you. One day, you’ll wake up and realize you’re lying next to the person who killed your father.”
“ You didn’t kill him. You were just a girl. It was him . Your father took his life, not you. And I know it doesn’t erase the guilt you carry, but it’s the truth. I see you, Mila. I see the woman you’ve become. The woman who saved me, even when I didn’t deserve it.”
Tears prick my eyes, but I blink them away. “You don’t know if this will work. What if we’re just too broken?”
“Then we’ll be broken together. I’ll take every shattered piece of you and hold it until it fits. I’ll fix it, Mila. I’ll fix us . But don’t ask me to let you go. I won’t.”
His words break something in me, and before I can stop myself, I’m crying. He pulls me into his arms, holding me like he’s afraid I’ll slip away.
“I love you,” he murmurs into my hair. “More than anything. More than myself. Let me prove it to you.”
I don’t know if I can risk my heart breaking again. But as I sit there, wrapped in his arms, a small part of me, the part that still hopes, wants to try.