Chapter Thirty – London
Aleksandr Volkov
I didn’t storm out.
I walked.
Straight through the corridors of Obsidian HQ, past engineers, analysts, interns — all of them pretending not to stare.
The silence behind me rang louder than the shouting.
No one tried to stop me.
No one said a damn thing.
Except Callum.
He stepped out from one of the glass-walled meeting rooms as I passed. Dressed in team kit, hair mussed like he’d been dragging his fingers through it for hours. His eyes flicked to the floor, then back to me.
“They’re saying you didn’t know,” he said quietly. “About Hartmann. About any of it.”
I didn’t answer.
He swallowed, voice dropping further. “For what it’s worth… I believe that.”
I stopped walking.
Slowly turned to face him. “And what do you want for that belief, Callum? A thank you? A trophy of your own?”
He flinched like I’d hit him. “I didn’t mean—”
“Forget it. I don’t need any one’s pity.” We stared at each other. Two team mates. Two strangers. I exhaled sharply and turned away. “Good luck,” I muttered. “You’re the one stuck cleaning up the mess now.”
Then I kept walking. Out through the glass doors. Past reception. Into the cool Oxfordshire air.
My Obsidian road car sat waiting like a predator — sleek, matte black, the badge catching the late morning sunlight like a threat. I climbed in, slammed the door, and started the engine.
The hum of power should’ve been comforting.
It wasn’t.
I didn’t set the satnav. I didn’t need directions. I didn’t even think. I just drove.
Motorway signs blurred past. My fingers curled around the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping me from flying apart.
What the hell was I doing?
The car responded to every flick of my wrist, every twitch of my foot. The precision was familiar. Controlled. Mechanical.
Unlike everything else in my life right now.
By the time the skyline of London rose ahead of me, my hands were stiff. My jaw ached from clenching. The buzz of my phone on the passenger seat went unanswered — team comms, media requests, probably Mac.
They could all wait.
I had one thing left to face.
And she deserved to see my face when I did.
Aleksandr Volkov – Elena’s Flat, Islington, Tuesday Evening
She stopped in front of me, suitcase wheels scraping to a halt on the hallway carpet.
We stared at each other.
Her hair was tied up messily. Her face drawn with travel. Eyes ringed with shadows I’d helped put there.
The most devastating thing I’d ever seen.
“Hi,” I said.
She crossed her arms. “What are you doing here?”
I stood slowly. My back ached from sitting on the floor, but I didn’t care. “Waiting for you.”
“I got that part,” she said tightly. “Why?”
I opened my mouth. Closed it. The words were a mess in my throat.
“I read the article,” I said finally. “Twice.”
She raised an eyebrow. “And?”
“And I had a lot of things to say to Ross first.”
Her eyes flickered, searching mine. “So… you came here straight from Obsidian?”
I nodded once.
Her voice softened. “How did you even find me?”
“I have my ways.” A weak attempt at levity. It didn’t land.
She shook her head, more exhale than motion, and stepped past me to unlock the door.
“You look like hell.”
“Feels accurate,” I replied.
She pushed the door open and stepped inside, leaving it open. “You coming in, or just haunting my hallway?”
I hesitated. Then followed.
The flat smelled like lavender and paper. Like her. Shoes by the door, a scarf slung over a hook, a stack of books on the little table by the wall. Lived-in. Real.
I hovered by the threshold.
She dropped her keys in the dish, set her suitcase beside the radiator, and turned to face me fully.
“Well?”
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I admitted. “Only that I couldn’t let the last thing between us be what I said in Seoul.”
Her expression didn’t shift. But her hands curled slightly at her sides.
“I meant what I wrote,” she said. “I didn’t throw you under the bus.”
“I know.” I rubbed a hand over my face. “You were… fair. Too fair.”
Her mouth tugged into something bitter. “So why are you here?”
“I wanted to look you in the eye and say I’m sorry.” My voice cracked.
That made her pause. Just for a heartbeat.
“I didn’t trust you,” I went on. “Not when it counted. I let fear make me cruel. I didn’t just doubt my team. I doubted you. And that… that’s the part I can’t stop hearing.”
She swallowed hard, but didn’t interrupt.
“You were right. About everything. I needed to know the truth. Even if it hurt. Even if it burned everything down.”
Silence settled between us, thick and aching.
Finally, she spoke. “So what now?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m not here to fix it. Or ask for anything. I just… I needed you to know that I saw it. All of it. And that it changed something in me.”
She stared at me for a long moment. Then stepped into the kitchen and flicked the kettle on.
“I’ve been on planes for over eighteen hours,” she said. “I’m tired. I smell like airports. And my inbox is full of death threats and marriage proposals.”
I blinked. “Marriage—?”
“I’m not in the mood to talk about the state of our… whatever this is. But you can stay. For tea. If you want.”
Relief crashed over me like a wave.
“Tea’s fine,” I said quietly. “Tea’s good.”
She didn’t smile. But she handed me a mug a few minutes later, steaming and chipped, and we stood in her kitchen, not saying much at all.
It wasn’t forgiveness.
But it was a start.
Elena Archer
I was tired down to my bones and honestly, I didn’t think I could handle this conversation.
I sipped my tea and avoided Aleks’s gaze.
I was curious about him tracking down my address and flying straight here.
That showed—something. But I couldn’t be his support system, not when I was the one responsible for exposing the truth that had hurt him.
I put my mug on the counter and drew a heavy breath.
“I can’t do this right now, Aleks. I’m shattered. I need a shower and to sleep.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have intruded.
” He put his mug down and stepped into the narrow hall.
But he didn’t head for the door, he looked around, getting his bearings in my meagre flat.
He set his sights on the bathroom, opened the door and started the shower running.
I followed him into the hall and frowned at him as he busied himself.
He hoisted my case as if it weighed nothing and put it on the end of my sofa.
He opened it and fished out my toiletry bag.
I opened my mouth to object, but no sound came out.
He fetched a towel from the small linen closet next to the bathroom, moving with calm precision, and took my hand as he passed me, leading me into the nicely steamy bathroom. He placed my things on the closed toilet lid and turned to face me. He kissed my forehead and smiled, a rare sight.
“Get freshened up. I’ll take care of everything.”
“You’re prying, you know? Going through my things like this.”
He shrugged and left the room, closing the door softly behind him. I was too tired to really object, and part of me had to admit that it was incredibly sweet.
I stripped out of my travel clothes and stepped into the shower.
It was nice to be home, around my own things.
I’d been travelling for nearly six weeks.
But I’d also gotten used to hotels and being waited on—food, cleaning, laundry, all taken care of.
Maybe Aleks being here and nurturing me like this was a welcome transition back to real life.
Once I was done in the shower, I brushed my teeth, patted myself dry, and got into my favourite nightdress - a long, baggy t-shirt with a sleepy kitten on it.
It wasn’t sexy, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t in the mood for any of that.
If Aleks didn’t like me like this then he wasn’t right for me anyway.
I made my way to my bedroom, not seeing Aleks on the way. I found him finishing making my bed, the bedding I’d left on it when I went away in a pile at the foot of the bed and fresh sheets crisply turned down for me.
“You have to be kidding.”
He turned to face me and cocked his head. “They were musty from not being used for so long. I thought you’d like fresh sheets.”
“I don’t believe you. Who taught you to be so thoughtful?” I moved into the room, seeing him in a whole new light.
He shrugged again. “I’ve always travelled a lot and know what I like. I assumed you’d be the same.”
Okay, maybe I was starting to feel a tingle of interest in sex now. He was being unbelievably kind. Especially given what my article must have put him through already.
I sat down on the bed, drawing my feet up under my hip. I patted the bed next to me and he sat, kicked off his shoes and moved over to be nearer to me.
“What happened at Obsidian?” I asked.
He looked down. Drew a breath. Looked back at me. “What had to happen.”
“Tell me.”
“I read the article. I went to confront Ross. I heard him on the phone to Hartmann—” he stopped and looked at me with hard eyes. My heart sank a little. I could read it in his face, his tight shoulders, his twitching jaw. He wasn’t sure how much he should say.
“Aleks,” I reached out and cupped his cheek in my warm palm. “Off the record. I promise.”
He nodded once and leaned into my touch slightly, his face relaxing a fraction.
“He was yelling, saying he wouldn’t be the one to burn for this. He demanded Hartmann find the leak. You might want to warn your source.”
I nodded and withdrew my hand slowly.
“Thank you for telling me. What happened next?”
“I went in and we argued. Voices were raised. Harsh words exchanged. Mac—he was there, he knew. He knew everything. I trusted that man like a father.”
“I know. I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t know what happens now, Elena. I don’t know if I still have a seat.” His voice was so vulnerable, soft. Not like him.
A tear prickled at the corner of my eye. I could barely fathom what he was going through now. And I was the cause. This was damn complicated.
“I’m so sorry. I put you in this position and I have no way to fix it for you.”
“No,” he said, his voice more firm. He shook his head. “You didn’t cause this. It was Ross. He did this. You exposed the truth, but if it hadn’t been you it probably would have been someone else. These things never stay quiet forever.”
I pressed my lips together, disarmed by his generous attitude. I shuffled closer, needing to feel his warmth. I rose up on my knees and placed my hands on his cheeks.
“Aleks,” I whispered, leaning close enough to kiss him. “I’m right here with you. No matter what.”
He nodded, then looked right into my eyes.
The sadness in his was heartbreaking. He moved forwards and captured my lips in a tender kiss.
Warm, pliant, brushed with quiet need. When our lips parted again he searched my face.
His hands were planted on my hips. I wasn’t sure what he was looking for, permission maybe?
If so, I don’t think he found it. I would have gone further with him right then, but he pulled back and slid off the bed.
“I should go.”
“No,” I said, suddenly desperate for him to stay. “Don’t. I need to sleep, but you can stay. I want you to.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Just sleep. I insist.”
“Okay,” I said, a tiny prickle of rejection stirring under my skin. Was our relationship ruined now? Didn’t he want me that way any more?
“Cute night dress by the way,” he said, smirking slightly as he looked me up and down.
“Thanks,” I said with a little smile.
He pulled back the duvet and I crawled in under it. I watched him tug off his Obsidian polo and toss it aside with a sour expression on his face. He unfastened his jeans and slid out of them, then climbed into bed beside me in just his boxers. I could work with that.
He drew me against his body, wrapping his arms around me.
I snuggled into the crook of his arm and rested my head on his shoulder.
I fully intended to take advantage of this gorgeous, lean man in my bed, but the weight of the day, of the long hours of travel, all hit me at once and within moments, I was asleep.
All cares and worries leached from my body now that I was safe in Aleks’s arms.