Chapter 18
Sera
I wake to warmth.
Not the suffocating heat of panic or fear, but the solid, steady warmth of another body.
Adrian's body.
I'm wrapped around him like a vine. My leg thrown over his hip. My arm across his chest. My face buried in the curve of his neck where I can smell cologne and something distinctly him.
We're skin to skin.
I'm still naked. The robe must have come loose in the night.
I barely remember getting out of the shower. The warmth and steam burned away all of the adrenaline, and when I'd fallen into bed, I'd been bone tired.
I didn't even flinch when Adrian came in.
Not surprising since he's incredibly light-footed. He's naked beneath me, and I can feel the hard planes of his body pressing against me.
My body responds before my brain can catch up. Heat pooling low in my belly. A pulse between my legs that has nothing to do with logic or self-preservation.
It would be so easy.
To shift my hips. To reach down. To take him inside me and let everything else fall away. We hadn't slept together since that first night, and there's so much unresolved between us—questions, secrets, betrayals—and yet, I want him.
Badly.
I don't want to think of anything else. I just want to feel, and I know that Adrian can make that happen. That first and only night ruined me for other men, and I'm tired of fighting what my body clearly wants.
My hand moves lower. Almost of its own accord. Fingers trailing down his chest. His stomach. I can feel the coarseness of his hair as I get closer.
"Seraphina."
His voice is rough. Sleep-thick. But there's warning in it.
I freeze.
"Don't," he says quietly. "Not like this."
I pull back and look at him. His silver eyes are dark with desire, pupils blown wide, and I can feel how hard he is against my thigh.
"Why not?" My voice comes out smaller than I intend. "You want me. I can feel it."
"I always want you." His hand comes up to cup my face. "But I want you consumed by me."
"Then consume me," I say, voice husky.
His brow raises, and he rolls us over so I'm underneath him. For a moment, I think he's going to slide inside of my body. I spread my legs, cradling him in between. His silver eyes are molten and alive, and I know he wants me.
He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to my lips before sitting up. The sheet falls away and I'm suddenly very aware of how naked I am. How vulnerable.
"We need to talk." His voice isn't angry, simply matter of fact, as though he's talking about the weather. "Get dressed. Meet me in the kitchen." He gestures toward the dresser where fresh clothes have been laid out.
It's not a request. It never is.
He gets out of bed, and I groan as I watch his ass and back muscles flex. Damn, he's fucking insanely hot.
I sit there for a long moment, cold now without his warmth. Part of me wants to follow him, entice him back to bed, make him give in.
But I know he's right. We do need to talk, so I get out of bed and put on the clothes someone left me and make my way to the kitchen where I smell fresh coffee.
Adrian is standing by the counter, two mugs already poured. He's changed into fresh clothes. Dark jeans and a black t-shirt that clings to his shoulders.
He looks dangerously good, and the pulsing between my legs intensifies.
I want him.
It's sick, but the timing is impossible, and the want doesn't care about logic.
He's my husband, and my body seems to forget that he has forced my hand.
"Sit," Adrian says, gesturing to the bar stool.
I sit. Immediately.
He slides a mug toward me. Cream. No sugar. Exactly how I like it.
"How do you know how I take my coffee?"
"I watch you," he says.
"We've been married for like three days."
He shrugs. "Three days. Three years. Doesn't matter. I pay attention."
Something about that statement cracks through my defenses. Not the possessive declarations or the promises of protection—but this. Him knowing how I take my coffee because he watched me. Him noticing something small when my whole world was falling apart.
"You're not what I expected," I say quietly.
His eyes meet mine. "Neither are you."
"What did you expect?"
"Someone easier to intimidate." A ghost of a smile. "Someone less stubborn."
Despite everything—the fear, the anger, the impossible situation—I almost laugh. "Sorry to disappoint."
"You haven't." His voice drops. "You're the opposite of disappointing, Seraphina."
The way he says my full name makes my stomach flip.
I close my eyes, sipping the warm liquid, trying to ignore the flutter in my chest.
"We need to talk about Gabriel," he says without preamble, and the mood shifts.
My stomach drops. "Did you find him?" I've been dreading the answer because either way it is going to be bad.
Adrian shakes his head. "No."
"Thank God," I breathe out, even though I'm not sure what I'm grateful for anymore.
"Did you know your brother embezzled money from the Morozov family? Almost a million dollars over six months."
"What? No. That's not—that can't be right."
His silver eyes bore into me.
"Your brother stole a million dollars from the Morozov family," he continued. "He was embezzling from them when he was supposed to be feeding them info."
"That's not—Gabe doesn't have that kind of money. He said he was working on the docks to try and get information. He needed to pay off his gambling debts. That's why he came to me."
"He worked the docks." Adrian's voice is gentle. Too gentle. "For the Morozovs. Low-level work. Unloading shipments. He had access to the money they were moving. A lot of it. He might have been in their debt at some point, but now, they want him because he stole from them."
"No." I shake my head. "He needed fifty thousand. That's what he said. He wouldn't have come to me for a million. There's absolutely no way I could come up with that kind of money."
Adrian looks away.
"What?"
"Nothing."
I put my hands on my hips. "I haven't known you long, but I can tell you're lying to me."
"He lied."
"Obviously. But that's not what you're hiding from me."
Adrian sighs. "Alexei told me that Gabe offered you to him."
"What?" I don't know what that means.
"He offered Alexei you as collateral for his debts. It distracted Alexei long enough for your brother to leave."
"He wouldn't—" But even as I say it, I know it's not true.
Because Gabe has been lying to me for years.
About the gambling. About work. About everything.
I wouldn't put it past him to do something insane and betraying.
"Did you know?" Adrian asks. "About any of this?"
The question makes me flinch. "What? No! Of course not!"
"Sera—"
"I didn't know!" My voice rises. "I thought he owed fifty thousand in gambling debts! That's what he told me! I didn't know about—about any of this!"
"You knew he was working at the docks."
"He told me yesterday when I confronted him! I didn't think it mattered!" I'm practically screaming at this point. "I don't have a reason to lie, Adrian."
Adrian studies me. Looking for lies. For tells. He won't find any because I don't know what the hell is going on. And yet, I'm scared. If he doesn't believe me, what will he do?
I'm pregnant, but that's a temporary situation, and I can't ignore the feelings in my body as I consider what he might do when the baby is born. Would he take it from me? Would he kill me?
"I believe you," he says finally. "I always believed you, but I needed to be sure."
The relief is so intense I nearly cry.
"Alexei thinks you were involved," Adrian continues. "That's why he went after you. Why Dimitri was waiting in that alley. Not because of the gambling debt. He wants his money back."
"But I wasn't." My hands are shaking. I wrap them around the coffee mug. "I swear, Adrian. I had no idea Gabe was doing any of this."
"I know."
"When I went to see him at the safe house, he told me he was just giving the Morozovs low-level information about Nero shipments. That he couldn't get close to anything important and because of that they were coming after him for his debts."
"He was lying. He never would have had anything on us. My guess is that Alexei had just gotten lucky and managed to pay for intel from men I don't have on the payroll yet."
"I know that now." My throat tightens. "I believed him. I always believe him. Even when I know better." This is hardly the first time Gabe has been caught in a lie. This is just frankly, the worst. "I can't believe that he would do this to me."
I wrap my arms around my body, trying to bring some warmth back into my skin.
The weight of it crashes over me. My brother—the person I've protected my entire adult life—sold me out. Used me as a bargaining chip. Left me to die in that safe house.
And I still care about him.
I hate that I still care.
"Do you know where he would go if he were scared?" Adrian asks quietly. "Who would he turn to?"
Twenty-four hours ago, I would have said yes. Now, I'm not sure I knew my brother at all.
"I don't know," I whisper. "I used to know everything about him. But now, he's like a stranger."
Adrian nods. Like he expected that answer.
The coffee mug trembles in my hands. I set it down before I drop it.
"What are you thinking?" Adrian asks.
"My brother." The words taste bitter. "I hate that I still care about him after everything."
"You're allowed to care." His hand reaches across the counter, covering mine. "He's still your brother."
"Even though he's a liar? A thief? Even though he—" I can't finish. Can't say sold me to pay his debts.
"Even then." Adrian's voice is careful. "What do you want me to do when we find him?"
The question hangs between us. What do I want?
"Don't kill him," I whisper finally. "Please. I know he doesn't deserve mercy, but—"
"You can't help who you love." Adrian's thumb strokes across my knuckles. "Even when they don't deserve it."
"Can you promise me? That you won't kill him?"
He's quiet for a long moment.
"I can't promise you that."
"Why not?"