Chapter 6 Naomi
NAOMI
The estate feels colder than I remember, but it shouldn’t.
The marble floors still gleam beneath my shoes.
The scent of fresh-cut lilies drifts from a vase on the foyer table.
Somewhere down the hall, classical music plays softly.
But beneath all of it, something in me stays guarded.
As if it could all vanish again. As if he could vanish again.
I follow Daniil in silence, our footsteps echoing between us like questions neither of us wants to ask.
His broad back is tense as he walks ahead, not looking at me.
Not since we left the safehouse. Not since he opened the locks and pulled me into his arms, like the contact alone could undo the horror of what Viktor did. But we both know it doesn't.
He finally stops outside a pair of carved double doors and pushes one open, motioning for me to enter his office first. A tray with two glasses and an unopened bottle of scotch sits untouched on the desk. I don’t move.
“I want answers,” I say, my voice clear and strong despite the tightness in my chest.
Daniil exhales slowly, still facing the room. “You need rest.”
“I need the truth.”
He turns at that. His ice-gray eyes settle on mine with a look that used to freeze me in place. Now it only makes my spine straighten more.
“I read the certificate,” I assert, taking a step closer. “You didn’t destroy it like we planned. It was filed, legally.”
His jaw tics. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“Then why didn’t you undo it?” I push.
“I couldn’t.”
“Couldn’t?” My voice cracks with disbelief. “You run an international crime syndicate, Daniil. You’ve bribed judges. You’ve smuggled priceless artifacts across borders. Don’t tell me you couldn’t make a piece of paper disappear.”
“I didn’t want to.” The words are quiet and still, dangerous in their honesty.
The silence widens between us like a chasm.
“You lied to me,” I say, shaking my head. “You pretended this was fake. You paraded me around like some bargaining chip, told me none of it mattered, and all along, you were keeping me.”
He steps closer, each movement slow and intentional. “You were never supposed to matter. You were never part of the plan.”
My stomach twists, and my breath catches in my throat.
“But now I can’t imagine this life without you.”
My chest pulls tight. The anger I’ve been clinging to begins to unravel.
“You had no right—”
“I have every right,” he cuts in sharply. “Viktor had you. I didn’t know where. I didn’t know what he was doing to you. And every hour that passed I thought about what he’d take from you.”
He swallows, a muscle in his throat working as he looks away.
“I didn’t know the certificate was filed. But when I found out, I knew I needed you tied to me. Legally. Permanently. If something happened to me, I wanted every man in my Bratva to know you weren’t just a pawn. You were my wife.”
My breath falters.
He steps closer, until there’s barely a foot of space between us. The heat rolling off his body is maddening, tethered to every memory I tried to forget while I was locked away.
“Say something,” he rasps.
I search his face, but he’s wearing the same quiet expression he always hides behind. Only this time, I see what’s underneath it, the cracks and truths he doesn’t know how to say out loud.
So, I say them for him.
“I thought I hated you,” I whisper. “For what you dragged me into. For pretending you didn’t care. For making me fall in love with a man I didn’t think was capable of love.”
Shock ripples across his face, his eyes widening as a sharp breath breaks free.
“But I don’t hate you,” I say. “I’m terrified of what you make me feel. Of how fast this happened. Of how you look at me like I’m already yours even when I’m not sure who I am anymore.”
“You are mine,” he says, his voice low and tight. “And I will burn down the world before I let anyone take you from me again.”
I don’t answer. I move.
My hands fist in his shirt, dragging him down until our mouths crash together.
The kiss is wild, teeth and tongue, a collision that steals my breath and sets my body on fire.
He groans into me, the sound vibrating through his chest, and his hands clamp hard on my hips, lifting me like I’m nothing but a weightless possession in his grip.
The desk edge digs into my thighs as he sets me down, papers scattering like confetti, but all I feel is his mouth, his heat, and his hunger.
My fingers tangle in his hair, tugging until he groans low in his throat.
His lips drag down the line of my jaw, my throat, finding the spot where my pulse hammers.
He sucks there, his tongue stroking, his teeth grazing until I gasp.
“Tell me to stop,” he growls, voice strained like a man fighting his last thread of control.
“No,” I pant, arching into him. “Don’t stop.”
That’s all he needs. His mouth crashes back over mine, hungrier, and deeper. The taste of him is overwhelming, heady, like drowning in fire. There is no Bratva, no Viktor, no war. Just his mouth on mine.
His hands slip under my shirt, his palms rough and hot as they skate up my ribs. He drags the fabric higher, exposing inch by inch of skin until I’m shaking from the anticipation. His knuckles graze me, setting every nerve alight.
“Arms up,” he rasps.
I obey without hesitation, and he strips the shirt away, tossing it aside.
His eyes darken to a thunderstorm, raking over me like he’s claiming me with his gaze alone.
He cups my breast through the thin lace of my bra, his thumb flicking over my nipple until I whimper.
Then his lips replace his hand, sucking me deep into the wet heat of his mouth.
“Daniil—” My cry shatters in the air.
Ripping my bra off he alternates between teasing flicks of his tongue and sharp little bites, until I’m trembling and clutching at his shoulders.
“You’re shaking,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my skin.
“I’m not scared,” I whisper, though I can hardly breathe.
“Not of me?” His voice wavers, just enough for me to hear the fracture beneath the steel.
“Never of you.”
Something breaks in him, and his restraint vanishes.
He tears at his shirt, the buttons scattering, until his chest is bare.
My hands fly to him immediately, roaming across muscles and scars.
I trace the jagged slash along his side, and the faded burn by his ribs that tell the story of his survival.
I lean in, pressing my lips to them one by one. His breath stutters, his fingers gripping my neck, pulling me back to his mouth.
“Tell me what you need,” he demands, his words a growl against my ear.
“You,” I confess, my voice breaking. “All of you.”
He growls low, one hand diving to the button of my pants. He unfastens them and peels them down my legs, dragging my panties with them. His fingers skim the inside of my thigh, higher and higher, until he brushes over my pussy. I gasp, my body jolting.
“So wet for me already,” he mutters darkly, sliding his fingers through my folds before circling my clit in slow, torturous motions.
“Please, I need you inside me,” I beg, my nails clawing down his back.
“Not yet.” He thrusts two fingers inside me, filling me with a sudden stretch that makes me cry out. He pumps them slowly, curling just right until sparks explode behind my eyes. His thumb presses against my clit in rhythm, dragging me higher, higher—
“Daniil!” My scream tears from me as I shatter, the climax ripping through me, leaving me trembling in his arms.
He doesn’t let me fall. He scoops me closer, his mouth devouring mine as he frees himself from his pants. His cock, hot and hard, presses against me, teasing and rubbing against the sensitive flesh he just ruined me with.
“Say it,” he orders, the thick head of his cock poised at my entrance. “Say you’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” I gasp, wrapping my legs around his waist. “I need you, Daniil.”
With one brutal thrust, he buries his cock inside me. I scream again, clinging to him as he fills me completely, stretching me until I feel split open around him. He doesn’t move at first. He stays buried deep, his forehead pressed to mine, both of us trembling.
“You are my wife, krasavitsa. You belong to me,” he growls.
Then he begins to move. Long, deliberate thrusts that drag every inch of his cock against me, stroking that perfect spot that makes me gasp, over and over, until my nails claw at his shoulders. His pace builds, each thrust harder, faster, until the desk trembles beneath us.
“Look at me,” he growls, his fist tangling in my hair and jerking my gaze back to his.
I meet his eyes, and it undoes me. The possession there, the raw hunger, the desperate fear of losing me, it’s all laid bare in the storm of his stare.
He pounds into me with a ferocity that feels like a brand, every stroke claiming me, fusing me to him as though he could make us one. My nails dig into his back, leaving angry red trails that draw blood, and he groans like the sting only spurs him on.
“I thought I lost you,” he murmurs, his voice fractured against my throat, his thrusts turning wild, almost punishing.
“You didn’t,” I cry out, my body arching into his. “I’m here. I’m not leaving.”
Our mouths collide again, frantic and messy, tongues tangling as he drives into me with relentless force.
His hands pin me against the desk as he hoists my legs over his shoulders, plunging deeper, pounding at a frenzied pace that steals my breath.
He leans forward, his mouth closing over my breast, sucking hard as he fucks me without mercy.
“Don’t stop!” I scream, my nails raking down his chest.
He growls low, pumping harder, faster, his body shaking with effort.
Then his hands slide beneath me, cupping my ass, and lifting me clean off the desk.
He doesn’t let go for a second, doesn’t even pull out.
With raw strength, he carries me, lowering himself onto his back, his cock still buried deep as he settles me astride him.