Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Leah
I should've said something in that moment.
I stared at the bruises on my ankle—already faded—and that thought kept circling through my head.
If I'd had just a little more courage yesterday, I could've gotten the words out.
But I didn't. Fear and nerves had choked me silent.
I couldn't read him. What if I said something and Roman just raised an eyebrow, coldly reminded me about the contract terms?
That possibility scared me enough to turn me into a coward. I'd missed my chance. And missing that perfect moment in the medical room—I regretted my weakness instantly.
Once I'd let the best opportunity slip by, it got even harder to speak up.
I spent the whole night staring at the back of Roman's head, rehearsing what to say.
Hey, Mr. Volkov. Why are we still sleeping together if Maria's gone? Do you think I'm not bad, maybe?
Or maybe something lighter.
Hey, mind if I make this official?
We've slept together enough times. I figure maybe you don't mind ordinary girls after all?
But I chickened out until late into the night. The plan had to wait.
I needed the right moment, didn't I? This was my first confession, after all.
I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair.
Today I'd better find something to do—anything beat lying in bed overthinking.
I threw off the covers and got up, deciding to handle one practical matter first: find that young bodyguard from yesterday and thank him.
When I'd fallen, he was the first one to rush over and catch me. Roman had snatched me away from him afterward, but the guy had helped me out. The least I could do was say thanks.
I headed down the hallway toward the stairs, trying to figure out where to find him. The estate was huge—there had to be ten, twenty guys working security on the grounds.
Then I rounded the staircase landing and saw a man.
Forty-something, black suit, expressionless face. He saw me, nodded slightly, and his eyes tracked my every move.
That caught me off guard. I'd never seen him before.
I kept going. Two more at the bottom of the stairs. Also strangers. They nodded at me too, staring just as intently.
What the hell? I wasn't some kind of exhibit. These guys acted like they'd gotten orders, all of them watching me, and it made my skin crawl.
I hurried into the first-floor hall. Emily walked past, and I jogged after her, catching her by the arm as she balanced a tray.
"Emily," I said quietly, "that bodyguard who helped me to the medical room yesterday—young guy, dimples when he smiled—do you know where he is? I want to thank him."
A strange look crossed Emily's face—like she was uncomfortable, or like she'd been expecting this question.
"Ma'am, you mean Ethan," she said carefully. "You'd better stop asking about him... He was transferred last night."
That caught me completely off guard. I frowned.
"Transferred? Where?"
"Alaska."
"Alaska?" I thought I'd misheard. "Is that a joke?"
"No, ma'am." Emily's voice dropped even lower. "The family has an outpost there. He left last night."
My mouth opened, then closed. I didn't know where to start.
"Not just him." Emily must've seen my shock, because she kept going.
"All the younger bodyguards on the estate, and a few of the gardeners—they were all replaced last night.
The ones you've seen this morning, they're all experienced guys transferred in from elsewhere.
Most of them retired from the action teams."
I stood frozen, my brain racing.
Yesterday afternoon, I'd tripped in the garden. That young bodyguard rushed over to help me. Roman shot him a vicious look. And that same night, the bodyguard got shipped to Alaska.
Was that a coincidence?
My heart started pounding harder. A thought wedged itself into my head.
It crashed around inside my chest, making me panicked and confused and a little giddy with hope.
I thanked Emily and turned toward the stairs. I practically ran up to Roman's study.
Outside the door, I took several deep breaths before raising my hand to knock.
"Come in."
His voice came from inside—low and steady as always.
I pushed the door open.
Roman sat behind that massive desk, head bent over a document, pen in hand.
Morning light streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him, carving his profile into sharp relief.
He wore a dark gray shirt today, sleeves rolled to his forearms, the right shoulder slightly bunched—I knew the bandage I'd wrapped was underneath.
Roman glanced up, his eyes flicking to my feet, then back down to the papers.
"Foot better?" he asked.
"Much better." I closed the door and walked to the desk, my chest still tight.
"I thought you'd sleep in longer, considering how late you were up last night."
He knew I'd stayed up late.
So did he also know why?
My heartbeat suddenly kicked up.
Fuck the right moment.
Right now. This was it.
"That bodyguard who helped me to the medical room yesterday—you transferred him?" I forced the words out.
I stared at Roman, refusing to miss a single detail on his face.
Roman stopped signing. He looked up, those black eyes landing on my face.
"Yes."
Just that one word. He admitted it cleanly, without even a hint of evasion.
His bluntness somehow left me speechless.
"All the young bodyguards and gardeners on the estate—you replaced them yesterday too?"
"Yes."
Roman set down his pen, rubbed his shoulder, and leaned back in his chair. His posture was lazy, but his gaze stayed locked on me.
"Why, Mrs. Volkova? You have a problem with that?"
Mrs. Volkova.
Coming from him, it felt like a feather brushing against my heart.
"Of course I have a problem! I still need to thank that bodyguard. And I knew them all—you should've at least told me. I deserve a chance to say goodbye, don't I?"
Roman watched me silently, letting me finish.
The study went quiet for a few seconds.
"I don't like other men touching you."
My heart skipped a beat.
I'd rehearsed this answer in my head. But when it came out of his mouth—clear and direct—I still couldn't stop trembling.
"What?"
"You heard me." He stood, circled the desk, and walked toward me step by step. "Yesterday, that man put his hand on your waist without my permission."
He stopped in front of me, looking down.
"I don't want to see it happen again," he said. "So I transferred him. I transferred every man who might disobey my orders and replaced them with people I trust. Simple as that."
He stood too close—close enough that I could smell that familiar scent, feel the scorching heat radiating off him.
He said it so plainly, so matter-of-factly, but every word landed precisely on my heart, making my cheeks burn and my ears hot.
He didn't want other men touching me.
I couldn't ignore that anymore. I looked up, straight into those bottomless eyes.
"Roman, are you... jealous?"
I stared at him, my heart hammering in my chest, waiting for Roman's answer.
If he'd just nod.
If he'd admit it—even one word—I'd kiss him so hard.
But Roman only looked at me in silence.
That silence felt like a bucket of cold water dumped over my head, extinguishing the spark that had just ignited in my chest, inch by inch.
I'd read this wrong.
I should've known.
There was such a huge divide between us. How could I be foolish enough to hope for something this ridiculous?
Maybe, in his eyes, I'd always been nothing more than a convenient bedmate to satisfy his needs. Or maybe, because Irina had betrayed him, he simply refused to let me get too close to anyone else—it would complicate his control, interfere with the contract.
What did any of this have to do with feelings?
That stupid hope in my eyes slowly cooled, then turned into a dull, bitter disappointment.
I forced my mouth into something like a smile, but I was pretty sure it looked worse than crying.
"Got it," I said, turning my face away. My voice came out flat. "Just—forget I asked that stupid question."
I turned toward the door.
The moment I turned, tears spilled over without warning.
Turned out, I'd fallen for him so hard already—hard enough that just his silence could hurt me like this.
I'd spent my whole life getting used to having nothing to rely on. I'd been hurt by my parents' shattered marriage, lied to by Trent, betrayed, abandoned.
I thought I'd built up immunity to all of that.
But I hadn't expected a single silence to make my heart ache this much.
I was so pathetic.
Tears kept flooding out. I didn't want Roman to see my face. I just wanted to get the hell out of this study.
I quickened my steps. But just as my hand reached for the cold door handle—
An arm shot out from behind me, wrapped around my waist, and yanked me backward.
I stumbled, my back slamming into a hard, burning chest.
"Let me go!"
I struggled frantically, trying to break free.
No. I didn't want him to see me like this.
But Roman's arm locked around me like an iron band, unmoving.
"Why? Why do you have to push me so far?" Roman's voice came right against my ear.
I froze. My struggling stopped. I turned my head slowly, staring at him.
Push him? Push him to what?
"If you want an answer, then I'll give you one right now."
Roman grabbed me and spun me around to face him.
Before I could process anything, he lowered his head and captured my lips.
The kiss felt like he wanted to devour me whole. One hand cradled the back of my head, the other pressed against my lower back, pinning me against him without leaving me room to breathe.
My knees went weak. I could only cling to his shoulders. The moment my fingers brushed the bandage on his right shoulder, I instinctively tried to pull back, but he didn't care—he just held me tighter.
"Roman," I gasped between his lips and teeth. "Your wound..."
"Doesn't matter." He bit down on my lower lip, his voice hoarse. "Right now, I can't think about anything else."
My mind went blank. I could only let this man—who'd just been silently refusing me—kiss me like this, his mouth demanding and relentless.