CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Alina
AS SOON AS we’re outside the door of the motel, Lev scoops me up against his chest and strides to the car. He bends without releasing me, somehow managing to set me down on the seat and slide in behind me without removing his hands, and then pulls me onto his lap.
I feel his lips press against my hair. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
I shake my head from where I have it pressed against his chest, the scent of his cologne filling my senses. “It’s okay. We did it, Lev.”
His arms tighten around me. “He had his hands on you.”
“He didn’t hurt me.”
“ But he had his hands on you .”
Something warm washes through me, cleansing the last remaining vestiges of the panic I had felt when Sergei slid his fingers down the vee of my dress, stopped at the point just between my breasts, and tore it down the middle.
Sergei had wasted no time once he had ushered me into that rat-trap motel room. He had seated himself in the single pleather chair, legs sprawled out before him, set a gun on the table beside him, and motioned lazily. “Strip.”
Had Lev seen us leave? How far away was he?
Stall. “W-what?”
His eyes were hard when he grabbed his gun and rose to stand in front of me, forcing me to tilt my head back. “I don’t like repeating myself.”
I took a step back. “No need for that. I’m here with you. Can I have a drink first? Get loosened up?”
He tilted his head to the side and slid the gun along the inside of my thigh. “What if I don’t want you loose?” With his other hand, he tore the front of my dress, his eyes glittering with lust and violence as he stared at my breasts. “Turn around.”
Without waiting for a response, he grabbed me and whirled me around, the hand with the gun already bunching my dress up. My mind went blank with fear.
This was not how this was supposed to go .
That was when a knock sounded on the door.
And now Lev is holding me, pressing me to him like I mean something, like he would have cared if Sergei had hurt me…had killed me. “I’m okay,” I whisper, lifting one hand to his jaw. I turn his face to mine, lifting my gaze until I can see the conflict in his. “You were there. You saved me.”
Lifting my chin, I press my lips to his. For a moment, there’s nothing but the faintest of pressures. Then a groan sounds deep in his throat, dark and raw, and Lev draws me impossibly closer, his lips finding mine in a kiss that leaves no space for air or hesitation.
He doesn’t release me until the car rolls to a stop in front of his house, and only then when we’re inside. “Go change,” he orders softly. “I’ll be in the living room.”
Holding the torn remnants of my dress across my chest like a shield, I climb the steps and go to my room to find a pair of pajamas. Despite the intimacy in the car, something feels off now—like he’s distancing himself.
Is this the part where he tells me he’s done with me? I told him, in so many words, that I didn’t want to be his whore. I didn’t want to be anybody’s whore. That in spite of the way it looked, I hadn’t auctioned myself off for that.
But maybe that’s all he wanted.
Tears burn behind my eyes, and I press the heels of my hands into them, shoving them back. I won’t cry over this. I’ve done what I came here to do. If I was stupid enough to fall for the guy…well, I’ll get over it.
Ten minutes later, dressed in pajamas and face scrubbed of makeup, I step into the living room. Nerves buzz under my skin like static electricity. Lev is waiting for me, leaning against the fireplace mantel with deceptive casualness. His eyes give him away, though—they’re heavy with something I can’t place. Guilt? Maybe.
He gestures to the sofa. “Sit, Alina. I need to tell you something,” he says, his voice steady but low. The kind of tone that prepares you for bad news.
My chest tightens, and I nod, bracing myself. “You’re scaring me.”
“Nothing to be scared of,” he replies, then gives a short bark of laughter. “Not you, anyway.”
I frown and settle into the corner of the sofa, drawing my foot up into the opposite knee. “Just tell me.”
“Your sister’s debt. It was already settled.”
I blink and stand back up to pace the floor in front of the sofa. “What?”
“I took care of it. Right after you told me.”
The words hit like a sudden drop, stealing the air from my lungs. My head spins, trying to process. “You mean when I told you the reason I was at the auction was that Marina owed someone fifty thousand dollars. Koka.”
“Yes.”
I press my palms to my temples, trying to stop the spinning. This doesn’t make sense. “You…you what? Why—”
“Koka is one of my men. He collects payments for debts on my behalf. He was not authorized to raise Marina’s debt from fifty thousand to one hundred thousand.” His look softens. “I did not know about it until after he contacted you. I am sorry.”
I stop pacing. “He is one of your men? Marina owed you? Well, technically not Marina. It was her boyfriend, and we don’t know where he is, so Koka came to Marina—” Lev’s expression darkens.
Dimly, I’m aware that I’m repeating his own words back to him. I can’t seem to formulate my own, though. One thought stands out among all the dust. “You basically paid your own debt, plus I don’t know how much at the auction…oh my God, Lev…we still owe—”
His hand lifts, silencing my building panic before it can fully form into speech. “No. That is not how this works. You should never have tried to carry that weight, Alina. Your loyalty to your family is admirable, but it is too much.” He pauses, jaw tightening like he’s fighting himself. “The hundred grand—it is in your account. You can do whatever you want with it. But Alina…I don’t want you to leave.”
I stare at him, speechless. It’s the first and only time I’ve heard him ask for anything. From the moment I met him, he’s demanded everything of me. Come, sit, stand, wear this, go here…
My heart pounds, the room shrinking around us. He steps closer, the little finger of his hand brushing mine, and the warmth of his touch undoes me.
As if in response to my thoughts, all traces of vulnerability vanish. His gaze locks onto mine, unflinching. “Stay.”
I smile a little. The commander in him can’t stay hidden for long. “Why?”
He frowns. “You’re going to make me say it?”
“I need to hear it.” I swallow. “I need to know that I am more than just something you bought, something to pass the time—”
He grabs me to him roughly. “I love you, damn it. I love you, Alina.”
His mouth finds mine, and I kiss him eagerly, using that as the excuse I need to hide the fact that I don’t say the words back to him. Do I love Lev? Maybe. Very possibly. I’m just not sure I can relinquish that last tiny piece of myself.
Not yet.
The kiss deepens, and everything else falls away. It’s just him and me—no debts, no fears, no barriers. When we finally pull apart, his forehead rests against mine, and for the first time in weeks, I feel safe.
Lev steps away, and when I would follow, he lifts a finger to halt me. I watch, bemused, as he lifts a thick fur throw from the back of a chair and lays it on the floor before the fire, then goes to the door and turns the lock.
I look around at the tall windows, clear to the grounds. Anyone could see in. Anyone could hear us. “Here? Now?”
He smirks as he strides toward me, rolling back his sleeves with deliberate ease, his eyes gleaming with challenge. “The servants will find somewhere else to be.”
Before I can respond, he steps in close, fingers curling around the edges of my pajama shirt. With one sharp tug, buttons scatter across the floor with plastic pings.
It’s different from when Sergei did the same basic thing earlier. My breath quickens, but for an entirely different reason.
I shimmy out of my remaining clothing quickly and take my place on the fur blanket, waiting for Lev to do the same and join me.
When he does, he eases me to my back with a lingering kiss that leaves me breathless. I anticipate heat and speed, but he hovers over me, propped on one elbow, while his fingers trace lazy circles against my bare skin with a featherlight touch. His palm is warm and solid against the curve of my waist as he holds me close, our bodies barely a breath apart. In the quiet of the room, his breathing is a slow, steady rhythm, a deep inhale and exhale that seems to match my own.
He’s watching me. I can feel it even with my eyes closed—the weight of his gaze, the way his thumb traces the dip of my waist and hip as if memorizing the shape of me. I open my eyes, and he’s right there, so close, his dark lashes casting shadows over his sharp cheekbones, his lips slightly parted like he’s on the verge of saying something.
But he doesn’t. Instead, he lifts a hand to my face, his knuckles grazing my cheek, his touch reverent.
“Alina,” he murmurs, my name on his lips, a sigh.
He kisses me then, slow and unhurried, as if we have all the time in the world. His lips are soft, warm, moving against mine with a patience that sends warmth unfurling low in my belly. There is no rush, no battle for control—just the quiet, steady press of him, the way his hands frame my face like I’m something fragile, something precious.
I melt into him, my fingers threading through the dark waves of his hair, holding him closer. His body shifts, settling between my thighs, his weight a consuming, steady presence. The heat of his skin against mine sends a shiver through me, not from urgency but from something deeper, something that makes my chest ache.
Lev slows even more, as if he’s savoring this, savoring me. His lips move from my mouth to my jaw, then lower, trailing heat down my throat, over the dip of my collarbone. Every touch, every kiss is deliberate, unrushed, like he’s learning me inch by inch.
My breath catches as his hands slide over me, as he moves in a way that feels less like claiming and more like worship. There is no desperation here, no fight for dominance. Just Lev and me, tangled in warmth and quiet longing, in whispered breaths and soft sighs, in the way he holds me like I’m something he’s afraid he’ll break.
When he notches the head of his cock against me and seats himself within me, it’s not fire and recklessness—it’s something deeper. It’s the slow, aching slide of his body against mine, the way his forehead presses to mine as he moves, as he whispers my name like it’s a prayer.
Time stretches, bends around us. The world outside ceases to exist, leaving only the steady rhythm of our bodies, the quiet gasps and murmured words between kisses. And when I finally shatter beneath him, it’s not violent—it’s soft, an unraveling, a quiet surrender to this thing between us.
Lev follows me over the edge, his arms tightening around me, his breath warm against my temple. He doesn’t pull away when he finishes. He doesn’t let go. He simply holds me, his fingers tracing lazy, soothing patterns over my back, grounding me in him.
For the first time in what feels like forever, I don’t feel lost.
I feel found.
Later, lying in his arms, my thoughts wander to my family. I see my mother’s tired face, etched with years of struggle, and I imagine her finally getting the care she deserves. I picture my sister, bright-eyed and full of potential, walking onto a college campus with the future wide open before her.
And then there’s me. My future.
I glance up at Lev, his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling steadily beneath my cheek. I’ve spent so long running, so long surviving, but for the first time, I want to stop. To stay.
Falling for him wasn’t something I planned. It’s something that’s happened, piece by piece, moment by moment.
And maybe, just maybe, it’s time to let myself fall.