Chapter 9 Rurik
Rurik
I take her to my suite without giving her a chance to second-guess it.
My hand closes firmly around hers, and I lead her out of the office without ceremony. No explanations to staff. No lingering looks.
The elevator ride is quiet.
Jessica stands beside me, breathing slowly, eyes forward, like she’s bracing for impact. I can feel the questions rolling through her, feel the moment settling in her bones the same way it’s settling in mine.
This wasn’t a detour. This was a turning point.
When the doors open onto my private floor, I guide her down the corridor and into my suite. The space is restrained; all dark wood and glass and muted light. No excess. No softness. A place built for control, not comfort.
She stops just inside, taking it in.
“This is where you live,” she says quietly.
“Most of the time,” I reply. “It’s easier to be in the city when I have business to attend to, but I have a couple of other places, too.”
“And what happens now?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest as she turns to me.
The question is careful. Not meant as a challenge but clearly stating her position is still one of distrust.
I can respect that.
“What happened already,” I say, meeting her gaze, “can’t be undone.”
Her jaw tightens. “I know that.”
“I don’t think you do,” I answer calmly. “Not fully.”
“I’ve claimed you. Not just physically. In ways my world recognizes whether you want it to or not.”
Her breath catches. “You don’t get to decide that for me.”
“I do,” I say evenly. “Not even because I’m the one who can protect you. But because you know deep inside yourself, I’m right.”
She shakes her head, anger flashing through the vulnerability. “I have a life. A business. Clients. I can’t disappear just because you decided I belong to you.”
“You won’t disappear,” I tell her. “But you will be insulated.”
“That sounds like a prison, or a padded cell.”
“It’s a shield,” I counter. “And you’re going to need it.”
I watch the truth reveal itself to her, see the moment she acknowledges it in the way her shoulders slump.
“If I could find out who your mother is,” I continue, “others can too. Men who won’t hesitate. Men who won’t stop at threats.”
Her arms loosen slightly. The fight doesn’t leave her eyes, but the understanding creeps in around the edges.
“I ran from her my whole life,” she says. “I thought if I worked hard enough, stayed clean enough, it would never matter.”
“It always matters,” I reply. “Blood has a memory. A history.”
Silence stretches between us, heavier now but clearer.
Finally, she exhales. “I need to go to a pharmacy.”
The sentence surprises me enough that my brow lifts slightly. “Why?”
“I’m not on the pill,” she says bluntly, meeting my eyes without flinching. “We just had unprotected sex, twice.”
“Okay,” I say immediately. “I’ll have something picked up and brought up here.”
Her gaze sharpens. “You’re not even going to argue?”
“No,” I reply, even though I hate the thought. “Because what happens next isn’t about trapping you. It’s about doing this properly, and if you’re not ready, I can respect that.”
That unsettles her if the way she narrows her eyes has anything to do with it.
“And what exactly is next?” she asks carefully.
I step closer again, lowering my voice. “You stay with me. For now. I put protection in place. I make sure anyone sniffing around your past understands you’re mine now.”
“And my work?”
“You keep it,” I say. “I don’t dismantle what I claim. I invest in it.”
Her breath stutters at that. She looks away, processing the weight of it all.
When she looks back at me, there’s fear there. Maybe even resolve. But also something warmer.
“Do you even care about the designs I made for the hotel?” she finally asks as more of what happened clicks into place for her.
“I have nothing to do with the hotel,” I reply simply, the meaning clear.
She nods slowly, “So you would never get the final say anyway?”
“No, Adrik has handed it over to Jasmine. She loves all of your work by the way.”
I reach out, brushing my thumb along her jaw. “I had to know what I felt was real. Then I found out who you were and had to find out if you were the same. Then I was inside you and it felt like planets colliding.”
She swallows.
“Oh,” she says softly.
That’s when I know she believes me.
I take her hand again, already planning routes, contingencies, futures. Because this isn’t chaos anymore, it’s commitment.