Leon
Her breathing evens out after about twenty minutes.
I feel the exact moment she falls asleep, the way her body goes heavy against mine, the subtle change in the rhythm of her breath against my neck. Her hand is still fisted in my shirt, as though even unconscious, she's holding on.
I should move her. Ease her onto the mattress, cover her with the duvet, leave her to sleep properly.
Instead, I shift us slightly, making sure she's comfortable, and let myself have this. Her weight against me. Her warmth. The citrus scent of her hair mixed the softer perfume that still clings to her skin.
I stare into the dark and try to process what the fuck just happened.
She kissed me.
Not because I forced her or because she was playing a role. She kissed me because she wanted to, even if it was just in the moment.
Equal parts satisfaction and something I don't have a name for swell in my chest.
I've had women before. Plenty of them. Beautiful, willing, uncomplicated. Transactions, basically, pleasure exchanged for discretion, no strings, no expectations.
This isn't that.
Florrie isn't that.
She's complicated in ways I'm only beginning to understand. Soft but stubborn. Terrified but brave enough to accept the unknown. Smart enough to recognize she's trapped but still taking whatever control she can seize.
Like kissing me. Taking that choice for herself instead of waiting for me to take it from her.
I didn't expect that.
I shift my gaze down to her. She's beautiful, I noticed that immediately, even in the chaos of the warehouse. But up close, with her defenses down and her features relaxed in sleep, it's even more apparent.
Strong bone structure. Dark lashes against her cheeks. Full lips slightly parted.
My chest tightens.
I did this to her. Turned her life inside out. Trapped her in a situation she never asked for.
And I'd do it again without hesitation if it meant saving her life.
The moment I saw her standing in that warehouse, something clicked into place. Like a piece I didn't know was missing suddenly appeared exactly where it needed to be.
The mandate gave me justification. A reason to claim her that my family would understand, that Valentin would accept as truth.
But if I'm honest with myself, and I try to be…at least in the privacy of my own head, the mandate isn't why I want her.
I want her because she looked at me with fear in her eyes and kissed me anyway.
I want her because when I walked into this room and found her crying, my first instinct wasn't to leave her alone to process. It was to fix it. To take away whatever was causing her pain, even though I'm the primary source of it.
I want her because she fits against me like she was made to be here.
It’s unnerving, but what terrifies me is how much I want this to work. Want us to work.
I've spent eight years building an empire on cold calculation and careful transactions. Emotion is a weakness I can't afford. Attachment is a liability.
And yet.
Her hand twitches against my chest, and I cover it with mine, feeling how small her fingers are compared to mine. How fragile she is, really. How easy it would be for this world, my world, to break her.
I won't let that happen.
The thought is immediate and absolute.
Whatever I have to do to protect her, I'll do it. From Valentin, from anyone who might see her as a weakness to exploit.
From my own family, if necessary.
Vitali's warning echoes in my head: If you're going to do this, you protect her. From everything. Including us.
He's right. The Dubovich family is dangerous in ways Florrie can't begin to comprehend yet. The politics, the power plays, the casual violence that underlies every interaction.
Tomorrow, I'm taking her to dinner at the main house. Introducing her to Yury and Sophia, to whoever else shows up. Throwing her into the deep end of family politics and expectations.
The thought makes my jaw clench.
She's not ready for that. Hell, she's barely ready for me.
But Yury was right, if she's going to be a Dubovich wife, she needs to understand what that means. Needs to meet the family, learn the rules, find her place in the hierarchy.
Needs to see what she's really signed up for.
My thumb traces slow circles on the back of her hand, and I feel her fingers relax slightly under mine.
Maybe it won't be as bad as I think. Sophia will help, she was in a similar position not that long ago, claimed by Yury to settle a debt.
If anyone can guide Florrie through this transition, it's her.
And Charlotte. Vitali's wife came into this world knowing exactly what she was getting into, but she's adapted well. She'll understand what Florrie needs.
The thought eases something in my gut.
She won't be alone in this. I'll make sure of that.
Florrie shifts against me, making a small sound that's almost a whimper. Her hand tightens in my shirt again, and I realize she's dreaming.
"Shh," I murmur, running my hand up and down her spine the way I did earlier. "You're safe."
She settles immediately, melting back into sleep.
The response makes something warm unfurl in my chest. The beginning of something much bigger than I’d anticipated.
She trusts me enough to sleep in my arms. To let me hold her while she's at her most vulnerable. It's more than I expected. More than I had any right to hope for.
I lean my head back against the headboard and close my eyes, cataloging the sensation of her against me. The weight of her. The warmth. The way her breath ghosts across my neck with each exhale.
This could be good, I think. If I do this right. If I give her time to adjust, to understand that I'm not the enemy. If I show her that being mine doesn't have to mean losing herself.
We could build something real here.
Not just a transaction to fulfill a mandate. Not just a marriage to secure the family line.
Something ours.
I've spent eight years being cold, calculating, untouchable. Building walls so high and thick that nothing could get through. Maybe it's time to let someone in.
It's time to be something other than an enforcer and procurement specialist. The problem solver. The man who deals in weapons and information and has ice in his veins.
With her, I can be me. The man who holds her when she cries. Who kisses her like she's oxygen. Who would burn down the world to keep her safe.
Tomorrow, everything changes. Tomorrow, she meets the family and this becomes real in ways that can't be undone. But tonight, in this room, with her sleeping in my arms, I let myself hope.
Hope that she'll forgive me for trapping her. Hope that she'll see past the circumstances to what we could be. Hope that when she looks at me, eventually she'll see something other than fear.
Outside, the sky is beginning to lighten. Dawn coming whether we're ready or not.
I should sleep. Get a few hours before tomorrow's chaos. But I don't want to miss this. Don't want to lose a single moment of her choosing to lean into me instead of away.
So I stay awake, holding her, memorizing the way she feels against me.
And I start making plans.
How to introduce her to the family without overwhelming her. How to show her she's more than just a solution to my problem. How to turn this forced arrangement into something she actually wants.
For how to make Florrie Cassel into Florrie Dubovicha in more than just name.
She shifts again, and this time her eyes flutter open briefly. Unfocused, still half-asleep.
"Leon?" Her voice is rough, confused.
"I'm here." I run my hand up her spine again. "Go back to sleep."
"Don't leave." It's barely a whisper.
Something in my chest cracks open.
"I won't," I promise, kissing the top of her head. "I'm not going anywhere."
She murmurs softly and drifts back under.
And I hold her through the last of the darkness, into the grey light of dawn, and think about how just hours ago I was conducting a routine arms deal. Now I'm holding a woman I barely know and planning a future I never wanted.
Impossibly, it feels exactly right.