Chapter 17Valerian
17
Valerian
W eeks pass, and Claire remains a constant presence in my bed. Our nights are filled with passion, but the mornings bring uncertainty. We dance around the topic of what this means, both of us hesitant to define our relationship beyond the terms of our agreement.
Today, I sit at my desk, staring at the financial reports without really seeing them. My mind wanders to Claire, asleep in my bed upstairs. I shake my head, trying to focus on work.
A knock at the door interrupts my thoughts. “Come in,” I call out.
Dmitri enters, a folder in his hand. “The latest intel on the Petrov situation, boss.”
I take the folder, flipping through its contents. “Any movement on their end?”
“Nothing concrete. They’re laying low, but our sources say they’re planning something big.”
I nod, processing the information. “Keep monitoring. I want to know the second anything changes.”
As Dmitri leaves, my thoughts drift back to Claire. The debt that brought her here is getting closer to paid off. Soon, she’ll have no reason to stay. The realization sends a jolt of panic through me.
I’ve fallen for her. Hard. The thought of her leaving makes my chest tighten, but I can’t tell her. I won’t risk the humiliation of her rejection or, worse, her pity.
Later that evening, I find Claire in the kitchen, preparing dinner. The domestic scene before me is so achingly normal, so far removed from my world of violence and power plays. For a moment, I allow myself to imagine a life where this is our reality.
“Smells good,” I say, leaning against the doorframe.
Claire turns, a smile lighting up her face. “I hope you like pasta primavera. I found some fresh vegetables at the farmer’s market today.”
I move closer, inhaling the aroma of garlic and herbs. “I’m sure it will be delicious.”
Our gazes meet, and the air between us crackles with unspoken tension. I want to pull her into my arms, to tell her how I feel. Instead, I reach past her to grab a wine glass from the cabinet.
“Red or white?” I ask, gesturing to the wine rack.
“White, I think. It’ll pair better with the pasta.”
As I pour the wine, I watch Claire out of the corner of my eye. She moves with grace around the kitchen, humming softly to herself. It’s moments like these that make me question everything I’ve built my life around.
We eat dinner at the kitchen island, and our conversation is light and easy. Claire tells me about her day, about the book she’s reading, about her plans to visit Jay again with her parents next week. I listen, soaking in every detail, committing it all to memory.
After dinner, we move to the living room. Claire curls up on the couch with her book, while I pretend to work on my laptop. In reality, I’m watching her, cataloging every expression that flits across her face as she reads.
“Valerian?” Claire’s voice breaks through my reverie.
“Hmm?”
She hesitates, biting her lower lip. “I was wondering...my debt is getting closer to being paid off.”
My heart rate spikes. This is it. The conversation I’ve been dreading. “Yes, it is,” I say, keeping my voice neutral.
“What happens then?” She’s looking for answers I’m not ready to give.
I close my laptop, buying time to formulate a response. “That’s up to you. You’ll be free to go, if that’s what you want.”
She nods slowly, her gaze dropping to her book. “And if I don’t want to go?”
The words hang in the air between us, heavy with inferences. I struggle to maintain my composure, to not reveal how much her question affects me. “Then you’d be welcome to stay,” I say carefully, “But I wouldn’t want you to feel obligated.”
She sets aside her book, moving closer to me on the couch. “Valerian, I?—”
The shrill ring of my phone cuts through the moment. I curse internally as I check the caller ID. It’s Dmitri.
“I have to take this,” I say, standing abruptly. “We’ll finish this conversation later.”
As I walk away to answer the call, I swear I feel Claire’s gaze on my back. What’s left unsaid between us is almost unbearable.
Dmitri’s news is urgent. The Petrov Syndicate is making a move, targeting one of our shipments. I spend the next hour coordinating our response, pushing thoughts of Claire to the back of my mind.
When I finally return to the living room, she’s gone. A note on the coffee table waits for me.
“Went to bed. We’ll talk tomorrow. — C”
I crumple the note in my fist, frustration coursing through me. Another missed opportunity, another moment lost to the demands of my world. As I pour myself a glass of whiskey, I stare out the window at the city lights. Claire deserves better than this half-life I’m offering her. She deserves someone who can give her stability and a future untainted by violence and danger.
Yet the thought of letting her go is unbearable. I’ve never needed anyone the way I need her. She’s become my anchor in a storm-tossed sea, my one true north in a world of shifting loyalties.
I down the whiskey in one gulp, relishing the burn. Tomorrow, I tell myself. Tomorrow, I’ll find the words to tell her how I feel. Tomorrow, I’ll ask her to stay, not out of obligation, but because she wants to. Part of me doubts I’ll find the right words or even the courage to broach the subject again for now.
The days pass in a blur of long nights and early mornings. Claire’s presence in my life has become a constant, her warmth a balm to the cold reality of my world. Our relationship remains undefined, existing in a limbo of passion and unspoken feelings.
I sit at my desk, reviewing reports on the Steele merger when a knock at the door interrupts my thoughts. “Come in,” I call out, not looking up from the papers.
The door opens, and she enters the room. I lift my gaze, taking in the sight of her. She’s wearing a simple sundress, and her hair is loose around her shoulders. “I brought you some coffee,” she says, placing a steaming mug on my desk. “You’ve been working for hours.”
The gesture catches me by surprise. It’s so...domestic. Normal. “Thank you,” I say, my voice rougher than I intend.
Claire lingers, tracing patterns on the polished wood of my desk. “I was thinking...maybe we could go for a walk later? The weather’s nice, and you could use a break.”
I glance at the stack of papers and endless emails waiting for responses. My first instinct is to decline, to bury myself in work as I’ve always done, but something in Claire’s hopeful expression makes me pause.
“That sounds...nice. Give me an hour to wrap this up?”
Claire’s smile is radiant. “Perfect. I’ll be in the garden.”
As she leaves, I catch myself smiling. When was the last time I took a break just to enjoy the day? I can’t remember.
True to my word, an hour later, I find Claire in the garden. She’s sitting on a bench, her face tilted up to catch the sun. For a moment, I simply watch her, marveling at how she’s managed to carve out a space for herself in my world.
“Ready?” I ask, approaching her.
She stands, linking her arm through mine with an ease that surprises me. “Let’s go.”
We walk in comfortable silence, leaving the grounds of my estate for a nearby park. The late afternoon sun filters through the trees, casting dappled shadows on the path. We talk about inconsequential things—favorite books, childhood memories, and dreams for the future. It’s...nice. Ordinary in a way my life hasn’t been in years.
As we near the estate again, she stops, turning to face me. “Thank you for letting me in, even a little.”
The sincerity in her voice is almost too much. I want to pull her close, to tell her how much she’s come to mean to me. Instead, I simply nod, not trusting my voice.
Days later, I’m in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, impulsively preparing lunch for Claire. The familiar motions of chopping, sautéing, and seasoning are soothing. For a moment, I can pretend I’m just a man cooking dinner for the woman he?—
I cut off that thought abruptly. This isn’t permanent. It can’t be. Claire deserves better than the life I can offer her.
“Something smells amazing,” she says, entering the kitchen. She’s wearing one of my shirts, the hem falling to mid-thigh. The sight of her in my clothes does something to me I’m not prepared to examine too closely.
“Beef Stroganoff,” I explain, stirring the sauce. “An old family recipe.”
She comes closer, peering into the pot. “Can I help?”
I hesitate, unused to sharing this space, this part of myself, but her eager expression breaks down my reservations. “You can chop the parsley.”
We work side by side, moving around each other with an ease that speaks of familiarity. Claire chatters and I listen, soaking in every detail, committing it all to memory. As we sit down to eat, she takes a bite and closes her eyes in appreciation. “This is incredible, Valerian. You’ve been holding out on me.”
Her praise warms me in a way I’m not accustomed to. “I’m glad you like it.”
My phone vibrates in my pocket, shattering the peaceful moment. I consider ignoring it, but years of instinct take over. I pull it out, glancing at the screen.
“Dmitri,” I say, my tone apologetic. “I need to take this.”
Claire nods, understanding in her eyes. “Of course.”
I step away from the table, bringing the phone to my ear. “What is it?”
Dmitri’s voice comes through, tense and urgent. “Boss, we’ve got a situation at the prison. Our guard on the inside reports Jay’s being harassed by Petrov’s men.”
My fingers tighten around the phone. “How bad?”
“Nothing physical yet, but they’re making threats. The problem is, Jay won’t talk to the authorities. Even when the warden tried to question him, he claimed everything was fine. He won’t open up to our guy I’ve arranged to be in the minimum-security wing to be his confidante, cellmate, and bodyguard either. He doesn’t really trust anyone.”
I curse under my breath. “Stubborn idiot. He’s going to get himself killed.”
“What do you want us to do?”
I pause, considering our options. “Increase observation. I want eyes on Jay at all times, and find out what Petrov’s playing at. This isn’t a coincidence.”
“Understood, boss. I’ll handle it.”
I end the call. The peaceful lunch with Claire seems a distant memory now, replaced by the harsh reality of my world.
I return to the table, where she waits, concern on her face. “Is everything okay?”
I debate how much to tell her. The truth could frighten her, but lies will only breed distrust. “There’s been a development with your brother,” I say, choosing my words carefully. “It seems he’s having some...difficulties in prison.”
Her fork clatters against her plate. “What kind of difficulties? Is he hurt?”
“No, not hurt, but he’s being harassed by some other inmates. The problem is, he won’t report it to the authorities.”
Claire’s face pales. “Why wouldn’t he say anything? That doesn’t make sense.”
I lean forward. “Because he’s afraid. These aren’t ordinary inmates. They’re connected to a rival organization, the Petrov Syndicate.”
“The ones who...” She trails off, unable to finish the thought.
I nod grimly. “Yes. The ones who tried to use Jay before. They’re not done with him, it seems.”
She pushes away her plate, appetite clearly gone. “What can we do? There has to be something.”
“I’m handling it. I’ve got people watching out for him, but this changes things for you too.”
Her brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
I take a deep breath, bracing myself for her reaction. “It’s not safe for you to be out on your own anymore. From now on, you don’t go anywhere without me or one of my men.”
Claire’s eyes widen. “Valerian, that’s... that’s extreme, and with no real indication I’m at risk. I can’t just?—”
“You can, and you will,” I interrupt firmly. “This isn’t just about our arrangement anymore, Claire. It’s about your safety. The Petrovs won’t hesitate to use you to get to your brother, or to me.”
She sits back in her chair, stunned. “I... I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll do as I ask. Promise me you won’t take unnecessary risks.”
She’s quiet for a long moment. When she looks up, there’s a mix of emotions in her eyes—fear and uncertainty, but also something warmer. “Okay,” she says softly. “I promise.”
Relief fills me, followed quickly by a surge of protectiveness. I reach across the table, taking her hand in mine. “I won’t let anything happen to you. You have my word.”
She squeezes my hand, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I believe you.”
The moment stretches between us, charged with unspoken feelings. I want to pull her into my arms, to shield her from the dangers of my world. Instead, I release her hand and stand. “Come on,” I say, offering her my arm. “Let’s go somewhere more comfortable. We have a lot to discuss.”
She rises, slipping her arm through mine. As we leave the dining alcove, I’m acutely aware of her warmth at my side. The need to keep her safe, to protect her from the storm that’s brewing, is overwhelming.
We settle in the living room, Claire curling up on one end of the sofa while I pour us each a glass of whiskey. The amber liquid catches the light as I hand her a glass.
“Tell me everything,” she says, her voice steady despite the fear I can see in her eyes. “I want to know what we’re up against.”
I sit beside her, closer than strictly necessary. “The Petrov Syndicate is a powerful organization, similar to mine in many ways. We’ve been rivals for years, but things escalated recently when I...eliminated their previous leader.”
Claire’s eyes widen. “You killed him?”
“It was necessary,” I say, not elaborating. Some truths are better left unspoken. “His brother, Matvey, has taken control now. He’s ruthless, unpredictable, and he wants revenge.”
“And my brother? How does he fit into all this?”
I take a sip of whiskey, letting the burn ground me. “As you know, they were grooming him to be a foot soldier. Perhaps they want to ensure he’s still an asset, or maybe they regard him as a loose end. Until he talks, it’s hard to say.”
Claire’s knuckles whiten around her glass. “What will they do to him?”
“If we’re lucky, nothing. My men will try keep him safe, but you need to understand the situation. If they’re targeting him to get to me, based on knowledge of my relationship with you, the Petrovs won’t stop at Jay. They’ll use anyone and anything to get to me.”
“Including me,” she says softly.
I nod, meeting her gaze. “Especially you.”
Claire takes a long drink, wincing slightly at the strength of the whiskey. “So, what now? Do I just...stay here indefinitely?” She frowns. “Their harassment might have nothing to do with you.”
I nod. “True. He has a history with them that predates his history with me and his debts at ‘The Velvet Cage.’ Caution is still warranted, so for the time being, yes. It’s the safest place for you.” I pause, choosing my next words carefully. “I know this isn’t what you signed up for. If you want out, I’ll understand. I can set you up somewhere safe, far from all of this.” The thought of her leaving twists something in my chest, but I force out the words. She deserves a choice.
She’s quiet for a long moment, her gaze on the glass in her hands. When she looks up, there’s determination in her eyes. “I’m not going anywhere,” she says firmly. “My brother’s in danger, and I want to help however I can.”
I let out a shaky breath. “You’re sure? This won’t be easy. My world is dangerous.”
She sets down her glass, shifting closer to me on the sofa. “I’m sure.”
The warmth of her body so close to mine is intoxicating. I want to pull her into my arms, to remind her exactly how together we can be. Instead, I allow myself a small smile.
She takes my hand, intertwining her fingers with mine. The simple touch sends electricity through my veins. We sit in companionable silence, though I’m sure her thoughts are as tumultuous as mine.