Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Kirill
Michael is fuming, pacing up and down the dimly lit room like a caged animal. His face is flushed with anger, hands clenched into fists at his sides.
“How the fuck could you let this happen?” he snarls. “What the hell were you thinking?”
I keep my voice even. “I had no idea this was going to happen.”
He stops pacing, turning on me. “So you’re telling me the Morozov girl got to the real Ilya, took him upstairs, and was nursing him when you walked in?”
“Yes.”
Michael’s eyes narrow. “So she doesn’t know the truth? That you’re the fake Ilya?”
“No. She heard noises from the basement and went to check. Found the man chained up. She brought him upstairs and called 911. Before the paramedics arrived, I showed up with your guy. While I was trying to explain, the real Ilya made a grab for my gun and shot your man.”
Michael swears loudly, running a hand through his hair. “Fuck. Fuck. This is not supposed to happen. The police are all over the case now. This is going to impede our goal.”
I step closer, keeping my tone calm. “Nothing is ruined yet. Milana knows nothing. As far as she’s concerned, some stranger was holding Ilya in the basement. I’ve convinced her to let the police handle the investigation. Everything is still on track.”
He points a finger at me, eyes wild. “This is your fault. If you had listened to me and brought the girl to me when I asked, none of this would have happened.”
I meet his gaze steadily. “And then what? You think torturing her would have given you everything you need to destroy the Morozov brothers? You wanted to watch them suffer, watch their businesses crumble before you finally killed them. That’s the long game.
You’re thinking short-term. I’m thinking long-term.
I’m meeting with her brothers soon. I’ll get you more shipment details. I can still do my job.”
Michael processes this for a moment, his anger slowly cooling into something colder. “Fine. Make sure you get those details. And clean up this mess. The real Ilya can’t wake up and talk to the police. When he wakes up in the hospital, he doesn’t get to tell them anything. Make sure of that.”
I nod once. “Consider it done.”
As I walk away from the meeting, a bad feeling settles in my gut. I can’t put my finger on it, but it’s there. The sense that Michael doesn’t fully believe me. That he’s starting to doubt where my loyalty really lies.
Now I have to go the extra mile to convince him I’m still on his side.
Because if he suspects the truth, everything I’m willing to burn for, could come crashing down.
When I step back into the penthouse, Milana is curled up on the couch, legs tucked under her, watching something on the TV.
The moment she sees me, a smile spreads across her face, soft, genuine, the kind that hits me right in the chest. It’s like a ray of sunshine cutting through all the darkness I carry. It makes the weight of the day feel a little lighter.
I walk over to her, lean down, and kiss her deeply. Every time I kiss her, I wonder why I waited so long.
What the hell was I thinking, denying myself this? Kissing her feels like coming home. Like drinking cold water after days in a dry desert.
I pour everything I feel into it. The relief of seeing her safe, the possessiveness that’s only grown stronger, the need I can’t seem to shake.
When I finally pull back, I sit on the couch and pull her onto my lap, her body fitting perfectly against mine. She settles there, one hand resting on my chest.
“How did the meeting with Michael go?” she asks quietly.
I run my hand down her back. “I’d like to think it went well. But I don’t think Michael fully bought my story about you not knowing the truth.”
She shifts slightly, looking up at me, worried. “Oh.”
“Yeah. There’s something about him… I can feel he might be onto something. So to throw him off, I need to give him a bone. Something that makes him believe I’m still working for him.”
She studies my face. “So what are you going to do?”
I hesitate for a second, then sigh. “I’ll think of something.”
She gives me that look, the serious one that says she knows me too well now. “We already had this conversation. Don’t keep anything from me.”
I let out a breath, threading my fingers through her hair. “I’m not hiding anything from you. I just don’t want to burden you with this.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Because I’m a woman? You think I can’t handle it?”
“No,” I say firmly. “It’s because I don’t want to put more on your shoulders.
But fine. I’m going to tell your brothers to give me a fake shipment route.
Something convincing I can pass to Michael.
It’ll make him think I’m still on his side while we gather more ammunition against him. It’ll buy us time.”
She searches my eyes. “Do you think my brothers will agree?”
“They have no choice. It’s the only way to keep Michael off our trail for now.”
She nods slowly, relaxing against me again. I hold her closer, breathing in her scent, letting the quiet moment stretch between us.
I look down at her, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “How was your day?”
She sighs softly, leaning into my touch. “It was okay. I took my classes and did some volunteer work. Maria was buried today.”
I can see the sadness in her eyes, even though she’s gradually come to accept that Maria’s death wasn’t her fault. It’s still there, that quiet grief, that lingering guilt she carries for the women she tries so hard to help. It breaks something in me to see her like this.
I kiss her forehead, holding her a little tighter. “I’m sorry, baby. I know it hurts.”
She nods against my chest, and we stay like that for a while, just holding each other in the quiet. No words. Just the steady rhythm of her breathing and the warmth of her body against mine.
Then her stomach rumbles loudly.
“Someone's hungry,” I chuckle.
She pulls back, cheeks turning red with embarrassment. “I… might have skipped lunch. And I couldn’t decide what to make for dinner.”
I chuckle softly, running my hand down her back. “Okay. How about we order in? Chinese sound good?”
She smiles. “I would love that.”
I order the food, and when it arrives, we curl up on the couch together, eating straight from the containers while some mindless show plays on the TV. It feels normal. Domestic. The kind of evening I never thought I’d want, but now I crave it with her.
By the time we’re done eating, she climbs onto my lap, straddling me, her hands resting on my shoulders. Her eyes are dark with need as she looks at me.
“I want to ride you,” she whispers.
I groan, hands gripping her hips. “You know I can never say no to you.”
Later that night, with Milana asleep in my arms, my phone vibrates on the nightstand.
It's a text from Michael: Ilya's been handled.
I stare at the screen for a moment before locking my phone. I know exactly what he means.
Milana
Ever since Kirill told me the truth about who he really is, something between us has changed.
The walls he always kept around himself are slowly coming down. He smiles more. He talks more. The constant tension that used to sit on his shoulders isn’t there as much anymore.
There’s a tenderness between us that wasn’t there before, a quiet intimacy that catches me off guard every time.
And with each passing day, I find myself falling even harder for him.
A few days later, I’m sitting at my desk, deeply focused on studying for my final presentation of the semester.
It’s based on a case study connected to one of my clients from the advocacy center. A woman who escaped a long-term abusive relationship and is now fighting for custody of her children.
I’ve been working on my slides, trying to make sure every point is clear, every piece of evidence is properly documented. This presentation could make or break my grade for the semester.
The door to my bedroom opens softly. I don’t even have to look up to know it’s Kirill. He walks in and wraps his arms around me from behind, pressing a kiss to the side of my neck, then my cheek, then my shoulder. His touch is warm and familiar, sending a little shiver down my spine.
“How’s studying going?” he murmurs against my skin.
“Very well,” I say, leaning back into him for a moment. “I think I’ve got most of it down.”
He kisses my shoulder again. “How about you take a break? Have some lunch. You can come back to it after.”
I glance at the clock and realize I’ve been at it for hours. “Yeah… I do need to stretch my legs a little.”
I get up from my seat, and he takes my hand, leading me to the living room. He’s already made sandwiches.
We sit down together at the island, and I take a bite, realizing how hungry I actually am.
“How's the presentation coming along?” He asks between bites.
I explain it to him, telling him about the case, the woman’s story, and how I’m trying to structure my slides to really highlight the psychological trauma and the legal steps she’s taking.
He listens carefully, asking questions here and there, genuinely interested. It feels nice, sharing this part of my life with him.
I go quiet for a moment, picking at the crust of my sandwich.
“What is it?” he asks.
I sigh. “I’m not sure. The last time I spoke to my professor, she said I might have to come back and make the presentation in person.
I’ve been trying to talk to her and see if it can be done virtually like the rest of my classes.
She said she’d get back to me. We have a meeting in an hour, so I’ll hear the verdict then. ”
He nods slowly. “Okay.”
“If not, we might have to fly back to England.”
He frowns. “That’s risky. We can’t do that.”
I give him a small smile. “Fingers crossed I don’t have to.”
After lunch, I go back to studying. When the time for my meeting comes, I join the video call with my professor.
“I’m sorry, Milana. We can’t do your presentation virtually. You need to present it in person.”
I thank her and end the call, staring at my laptop screen for a long moment.
Now I have to find a way to convince my brothers to let me go. And somehow make sure it’s safe.