Emma
I wake to sunlight streaming through the bedroom windows and the immediate awareness that I’m alone in the massive bed. My hand slides across the cool sheets where Rurik usually sleeps, finding nothing but empty space. Eduard’s side is the same. Even Artur’s spot near the edge is vacant.
They left without waking me.
The thought shouldn’t sting as much as it does, but Krystal’s words from last night echo in my mind with uncomfortable clarity. They’re only using you. Men like that don’t fall in love. They collect assets.
I sit up slowly, my shoulder protesting the movement. The bullet graze throbs beneath the fresh bandage Eduard changed before we went to bed last night. Or before I pretended to go to bed, anyway.
I’d lain there in the darkness, listening to their breathing and feeling the warmth of their bodies on either side of me, and wondered if any of it was real.
If the way Rurik looks at me means anything beyond strategic value.
If Eduard’s gentle touches are genuine or just part of keeping me compliant.
If Artur’s teasing and possessiveness is affection or ownership.
I know they knew I was faking sleep. The way Rurik’s breathing never quite settled into the deep rhythm of unconsciousness.
How Eduard’s hand rested on my hip but didn’t pull me closer the way he usually does.
The absence of Artur’s usual commentary about my stubbornness or the way I hog the blankets.
They let me pretend because they knew I needed space to think.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand, testing my balance. The room spins slightly, probably from the pain medication Eduard insisted I take last night, but I push through it. I need answers, and I’m not going to get them lying in bed feeling sorry for myself.
The bathroom mirror shows exactly what I expect. Dark circles under my eyes from too little sleep. Hair falling loose from the braid I didn’t bother redoing before bed. The bandage on my shoulder visible beneath the thin tank top I slept in. I look like hell, which matches how I feel.
I shower quickly, careful to keep the bandage dry, then dress in jeans and a fitted black sweater that doesn’t press too hard against the wound. My hands shake slightly as I pull my hair back into a fresh braid, and I have to force myself to breathe slowly, evenly.
This is ridiculous. I’m an FBI agent. I’ve interrogated murderers and traffickers without breaking a sweat. I’ve gone undercover in situations that could have gotten me killed. I’ve faced down armed suspects and walked away.
But asking three Bratva bosses if they actually care about me or if I’m just a useful tool? That terrifies me more than any of it.
I find them in the smaller dining room, seated around the table with coffee and what looks like the remains of breakfast. They look up when I enter, the way their eyes track my movement across the room making my pulse quicken despite my determination to stay calm.
Rurik’s pale blue gaze is steady and assessing. Eduard’s gray eyes are warm but cautious. Artur’s dark eyes hold that familiar mix of amusement and disapproval.
“Morning, sweetheart,” Artur says, his voice carrying that teasing edge I’ve come to expect.
I don’t say anything, only nod.
Eduard stands and moves to pour me coffee, his hand brushing mine as he passes me the cup. The touch is brief but deliberate, and I feel the warmth of it spread through my chest.
“How’s your shoulder?” he asks quietly.
“Fine.” I take a sip of coffee, using the moment to gather my courage. “I need to ask you something.”
Rurik sets down his cup with deliberate care. “Ask.”
The word is simple, direct, and somehow makes this harder. I force myself to meet his eyes. “Am I just a means to an end for you? All of you?”
The silence that follows is heavy enough to choke on. Eduard’s hand stills on the coffee pot. Artur’s crooked grin vanishes. Rurik’s expression doesn’t change, but something flickers in his pale eyes.
“What brought this on?” Eduard asks carefully.
“Just answer the question.” My voice comes out sharper than I intend. “Am I here because you actually want me or because I’m useful? Because I can help unite your families and give you FBI tactics and intelligence?”
Artur leans back in his chair, his jaw tight. “You think we’re using you.”
“I don’t know what to think anymore.” I set down my coffee cup before my shaking hands betray how much this conversation is costing me.
“You bought me at an auction. You’ve kept me here for weeks.
You’ve given me access to your operations and your lives, but I don’t know if that’s because you trust me or because it serves your purposes. ”
“Both,” Rurik says flatly.
The honesty of it hits me like a slap. I want to be angry. I want to storm out and prove Krystal right. But something in his expression stops me.
“Explain,” I demand.
Rurik stands and moves around the table toward me, his broad shoulders blocking the light from the window.
“When we went to that auction, we were looking for a wife. Someone strong enough to stand beside all three of us and help bridge the gaps our fathers left behind. Someone who could unite our families.”
“So I was always just a strategic acquisition,” I say, my voice tight.
“You were,” Eduard says quietly, moving to stand beside Rurik. “At first.”
“And now?” The question comes out barely above a whisper.
Artur stands too, completing the circle around me. “Now you’re so much fucking more than that, and it scares the shit out of me.”
The admission catches me off guard. Artur doesn’t do vulnerable. He does cocky and charming and dangerous, but not this raw honesty that makes my chest ache.
“We didn’t plan on caring about you,” Rurik says, his pale eyes locked on mine. “We didn’t plan on wanting you for more than what you could give us strategically.”
“But we do,” Eduard adds, his hand finding my uninjured shoulder. “We care about you, Emma. Not because you’re FBI. Not because you’re useful. Because you’re you.”
My throat tightens, and I have to blink hard against the sudden burn of tears. “How do I know that’s true? How do I know you’re not just saying what I need to hear to keep me compliant?”
“Because if we just wanted you compliant,” Artur says, stepping closer, “we wouldn’t have given you a choice. We wouldn’t have let Krystal stay. We wouldn’t have spent the last few weeks helping you chase down a mole who wants you dead.”
He’s right. The logic is sound. But logic doesn’t ease the fear that’s been building since Krystal’s warning last night.
“I’m terrified,” I admit quietly. “I’m terrified that I’m falling for you and it’s all in my head. That I’m just some captive with Stockholm syndrome who’s convinced herself this is real.”
Rurik’s hand cups my face, his thumb brushing across my cheekbone. “It’s real, Emma. What we feel for you is real.”
“Then say it,” I challenge, my voice breaking slightly. “Tell me what you feel.”
The three of them exchange glances, that silent communication I’ve come to recognize. Then Eduard speaks, his voice low and rough.
“I care about you more than I’ve cared about anyone in years. When I saw you fall in that café, when I thought you’d been killed, something in me broke. I can’t imagine this life without you in it anymore.”
Artur’s hand finds my waist, pulling me closer. “You drive me fucking crazy, sweetheart. You challenge everything I thought I knew about what I wanted. And I wouldn’t change a damn thing about it.”
Rurik’s pale eyes hold mine with an intensity that steals my breath. “You’re ours, Emma. Not because we bought you. Not because you’re useful. Because we choose you. Every day, we choose you.”
The words break something open in my chest and suddenly I’m kissing him. My hands fist in his shirt as I pull him down to me, pouring everything I can’t say into the kiss. He responds immediately, his mouth claiming mine with a possessiveness that makes my knees weak.
Eduard’s hands slide around my waist from behind, his mouth finding my neck. Artur’s fingers tangle in my hair, tilting my head so Rurik can kiss me deeper.
“We better take this somewhere a little more private,” Rurik says against my mouth.
We barely make it upstairs. Hands are everywhere, stripping away clothes with urgent efficiency. By the time we reach the massive bed, I’m down to my underwear and they’re not far behind.
Eduard lifts me onto the bed, his gray eyes dark with hunger as he settles between my thighs. His mouth finds my breast through the thin fabric of my bra, and I arch into the touch with a gasp.
Rurik’s hands work the clasp of my bra, freeing my breasts. His mouth closes over my other nipple while Eduard’s fingers slide beneath the waistband of my underwear, finding me already wet and ready.
Artur strips off the last of his clothes and moves to kneel beside my head, his thick cock hard and ready. “Open for me, sweetheart.”
I do, taking him into my mouth while Eduard’s fingers push inside me. The dual sensation makes me moan around Artur’s cock, and he groans at the vibration.
Rurik’s mouth moves lower, replacing Eduard’s fingers with his tongue. The first stroke against my clit makes my hips buck off the bed, and Artur’s hand tangles in my hair to steady me.
“That’s it,” Rurik murmurs against my skin. “Let us show you how we feel.”
Eduard trails kisses along my neck and breasts while Rurik works me with his tongue and Artur fucks my mouth with controlled thrusts. I’m drowning in sensation, overwhelmed by the feeling of being completely surrounded by them.
When my orgasm hits, it’s with Rurik’s name muffled as Artur’s cock slides deeper down my throat. The pleasure crashes through me in waves, leaving me shaking and gasping.
Rurik pulls back and positions himself between my thighs, his thick cock pressing against my entrance. He pushes inside in one smooth thrust, and I cry out at the fullness.
Artur’s mouth finds mine, swallowing my cries as Rurik drives me toward another orgasm. When it hits, I shatter completely, my body clenching around him as pleasure whites out my vision.
Rurik follows moments later, his release hot inside me. He pulls out carefully, and Eduard takes his place immediately, flipping me onto my stomach and entering me from behind.
The new angle makes me cry out, and Artur’s hand slides beneath me to find my clit. The added stimulation pushes me over the edge again, and Eduard groans as my inner muscles clench around him.
By the time all three of them have had me, I’m boneless and satisfied, sprawled across the bed between them. Eduard’s arm is draped across my waist, Rurik’s hand rests on my hip, and Artur’s fingers trace lazy patterns on my uninjured shoulder.
“We meant what we said,” Eduard murmurs against my ear. “This is real.”
I believe him. For the first time since Krystal’s warning, I actually believe them.
Rurik’s phone vibrates on the nightstand, breaking the peaceful silence. He reaches for it with a quiet curse, his expression shifting from relaxed to cold fury in the space of a heartbeat.
“What is it?” I ask, sitting up.
He doesn’t answer. He just turns the phone so I can see the screen.
The image shows two men standing together in what looks like a private office. One is tall and distinguished with silver-streaked hair and a commanding presence.
Langford.
The other is equally tall with dark blond hair and pale gray eyes.
Volkov.
My heart drops to my stomach as I stare at the photograph. The two men who want me dead or captured are working together.