Chapter 35
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Milana
I wake up beside Kirill, who is still sound asleep. I lie there for a while, just watching him, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way his face looks peaceful in sleep.
My mind drifts back to yesterday in the basement, the fear that gripped me when I realized Ivan was working against us, when Kirill was knocked out, when Michael was torturing them.
I relive the terror of seeing that bullet hit him, the moment I thought I might lose him forever.
I’m so thankful he’s alive. He’s right here with me.
I can’t even begin to imagine what I would have done if he had died. That’s how much I’ve come to love him. It’s scary, but I do. Deeply.
I slip out of bed quietly, use the bathroom, and then head to make us breakfast. I’m in the middle of cracking eggs into a pan when I feel strong arms wrap around me from behind.
Kirill kisses my neck, his voice still rough with sleep. “I woke up and the bed was empty.”
I smile, leaning back into him. “I decided to come make us breakfast.” I tilt my head toward the counter. “I made coffee.”
He kisses my neck again, then reaches for a mug and pours himself some. I turn to look at him. “How’s your arm doing?”
He shrugs. “It’s better.”
After breakfast is ready, we take everything to the living room and sit together on the couch, eating.
I should be enjoying this. The peace, the fact that we’re both alive. Instead, one question keeps circling my mind. It has been there since yesterday.
Kirill glances at me over the rim of his coffee mug.
“You have that look.”
I blink. “What look?”
“Like you have something on your mind.”A small smile touches his lips. “You’ve had that look on your face for the last five minutes.” He sets his mug down. “A penny for your thoughts?”
I look down at my plate. Should I ask him? Will I come off as needy if I do? Maybe I’ve completely misunderstood what this is between us. Maybe, now that everything is over, he’ll simply walk away.
The thought twists painfully in my chest. I have to know. Taking a deep breath, I look back at him.
“So… what now?”
His brows pull together. “What now?” He glances toward the kitchen. “You mean after breakfast? Is there somewhere you want us to go?”
I shake my head. “No. That’s not what I mean.”
I set my fork down. “I mean… us. Everything that brought us together…” I continue quietly. “It started because my brothers hired you to protect me from Michael.” I swallow. “But now Michael is dead.” I hold his gaze. “So… what does that mean for us?”
The room falls silent.
“Are you going to leave? Go back to taking other jobs?”
For a moment, he simply looks at me. Then he leans back against the couch.
“I could.” He shrugs. “But, I could also decide never to work another day in my life.”
I blink. “What?”
He smiles faintly. “I’ve made enough money over the years. Enough to last me a lifetime.”
I stare at him. “Seriously?”
He nods. “I invested most of what I earned instead of spending it.”
I look around the penthouse. I’ve always known he was rich. Anyone living here clearly wasn’t struggling. But I didn’t think he had enough to retire.
He studies me for a second before saying quietly, “I never got to know my father. According to my mom, he was a Russian immigrant who died before I was born. She raised me alone. But when I was ten, my mom died from breast cancer. After that, I was put into the system.
“Losing both parents at such a young age… it broke something in me. My grief turned into rebellion. I never stayed in one foster home for long. I was always running away. The homes weren’t always kind, but I didn’t make it easy on them either.
“I was angry at the world. I joined bad gangs, pickpocketing, shoplifting, drugs, you name it.”
He pauses, looking down at his hand for a moment before continuing.
“One day, I pickpocketed a man’s wallet.
I was sixteen. I thought it was just another score, that I’d get away clean.
But I hadn’t gone more than a few blocks when he caught up with me.
That’s when I knew I’d stolen from the wrong person.
His name was Sergei. He was dangerous. But instead of killing me or turning me in, he saw something in me. ”
He inhales deeply, like he’s sharing pieces of himself he rarely lets anyone see.
“Instead of punishing me, Sergei told me I was going to earn his forgiveness for stealing from someone like him. We made a deal. I had to stop pickpocketing, stop shoplifting, doing drugs, and meet him every day at a particular training center.
“He trained me. At first, I hated it. But he was a dangerous man. I knew if I backed out, I could get killed. So, I stopped running with the friends I used to have. I started training with him instead. I built resilience. I became sharper in my thinking. I learned all sorts of self-defense.”
He gives a shake of his head smiling like he can’t believe how his life had turned out.
“From there, we moved to a shooting range. Over the years, he trained me to make better use of the anger I carried inside.”
He pauses, squeezing my hand gently.
“When I turned 18 and aged out of the system, he offered me a job. He was in the extraction business, getting people who were in danger out safely. I started with smaller, less dangerous jobs and worked my way up. Every penny I earned, he taught me how to invest it, how not to waste it. I’ve been saving and building since I was eighteen. ”
I’m shocked by all of it. This gives me a clearer picture of the man he used to be and the journey that shaped him into who he is now.
“Are you still in communication with Sergei?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Unfortunately, no. He passed away two years ago.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“He was like the father I never had.”
He takes my plate from me and places it with his on the coffee table, then takes both my hands in his, looking into my eyes.
“Before I met you, Milana, I never knew there was another type of life possible. I didn’t think there was anything beyond the world I was used to. Now that you’ve come into my life, I would very much like for us to continue what we have. I don’t want what we have to end.”
My heart feels like it might burst. The butterflies in my stomach take flight. “So what are you saying?” I ask, voice soft.
He smiles, small and genuine. “This is me officially asking you to be in a relationship with me.”
I feel warmth spread through my chest, a happiness I haven’t felt in so long. “I would love that.”
He leans in and kisses me deeply, and I open up for him, deepening the kiss.
As we kiss, he pulls me onto his lap and growls against my lips, low and hungry. “I want you.” His hands are already trying to pull my clothes off, impatient and needy.
I pull back just enough to breathe. “Your arm… I don’t want you to injure it more.”
He laughs, dark and rough, nipping at my lower lip. “It’s my arm that’s injured, not my fucking dick.”
I can’t help but smile, even as heat pools low in my belly. “You’re so needy.”
“Only for you,” he murmurs, kissing me again, deeper this time. His good hand slides under my shirt, palming my breast as he growls, “Now stop talking and ride my dick like the good girl you are.”
I laugh softly into his mouth, but the words send a thrill through me. We’re already half-naked, my nightgown gone. I take off his belt, shoving his pants the rest of the way down.
He sits back on the couch, hard and ready, and I straddle him, sinking down slowly until he’s buried deep inside me.
We both groan at the same time, the feeling overwhelming. I start moving, rolling my hips, taking him deeper with every thrust.
His good hand grips my waist, guiding me, while his injured arm rests on the back of the couch. The couch creaks beneath us as I ride him harder, faster, chasing the pleasure building between us.
“Fuck, just like that, baby,” he groans, thrusting up to meet me. “You feel so good. So tight. This pussy was made for me.”
I moan, leaning forward to kiss him, our bodies moving together in a rhythm that feels perfect. He reaches between us, thumb circling my clit, and I cry out, clenching around him as I come hard, my whole body shaking.
He follows right after, burying himself deep and filling me with heat, groaning my name against my neck.
We stay like that for a moment, breathless and tangled. Then he lifts me effortlessly, carrying me to the bathroom. We shower together, the warm water soothing our bodies.
And while in the shower, he looks deep into my eyes, voice low and serious.
“I love you.”
For a moment, I’m shocked, staring at him. He says it again, softer this time, like he needs me to hear it.
“I love you, Milana.”
My heart swells, and I pull him down for a kiss, whispering against his lips, “I love you too.”