Chapter 15 #3
We kissed until my lungs burned. When she broke away, she was breathless, face flushed gold by the last of the sun.
She hid her face in my shoulder for a second, laughing in quiet, shivery bursts.
I couldn’t get enough of the shape of her.
I wanted to take her home. I wanted to give her everything she’d ever missed.
I wanted the rest of the world to disappear.
When she finally looked up, her lipstick was ruined and her smile was wild.
“Home?” she said.
“Home,” I said, so low it was closer to a promise than a word.
At the villa, she took my hand and led me upstairs.
There was no formal scene. No rules written down. No performance required.
She pushed me onto the bed and climbed into my lap, laughing when I caught her hips.
“You are very bossy tonight, young lady,” I said.
“It’s fun to be demanding sometimes.”
“Is that so.”
She kissed me until the laughter broke, until it changed into a sound I couldn’t name.
She kissed me until I was half-wild, unable to keep up with her hands, her mouth, her hunger for the next moment and the one after that.
Her fingers pulled at my hair, dragged me down to the mattress, and there was nothing in the world except the two of us.
She tasted like the ocean, like sugar from her drink, like the salt on her upper lip.
Her skin was hot under my palms, sun-warmed and soft, and every inch I uncovered was something earned.
She fought me for control in the beginning—tried to roll me over, pin my wrists, bite my shoulder—but every time I let her win, she seemed more desperate to be caught.
She said my name like a challenge, like what would happen if I didn’t rise to meet her.
I undressed her in stages: the yellow dress pulled over her head, sandals dropped to the floor, her thin underwear stripped last, so she had to feel it.
She undressed me with both hands and her mouth, ignoring every button and obstacle, nearly tearing my shirt in half.
I didn’t care. I let her claw, let her bite, let her get the first mark on my skin.
I liked the burn in her eyes when she saw the effect she had on me.
When I touched her, she opened for me. No hesitation, no mask, no reluctance. She was bare and alive in my arms, trying to drag me inside her even as I wanted to take my time.
“More?” I asked, thumb tracing her hip.
She pulled me closer instead of answering.
Her legs twined with mine and she anchored herself to my body like she was afraid the world would break apart if we separated.
We moved together until I forgot what it meant to want anything else.
She was greedy, relentless, laughing in my ear, then sobbing it out when I found the place she liked best. I didn’t have to guess with her—she let me know with every sound, every shiver, every “yes” that came out of her in a rush.
I tried to hold back, but it only made her crazier for it.
She wrapped herself around me, nails digging into my back, teeth sharp on my jaw.
The more I tried to be gentle, the harder she wanted it.
She wanted to feel every bit of me, every inch and every ounce of intention behind it.
It made me want to give her everything, to put it all in her hands and let her break every rule I’d ever made for myself.
She came with my name in her mouth, breathless and wild, clinging to me until she almost dragged me under with her. I followed, unable to stop, and for a long time there was nothing but the sound of our hearts racing and the warm, heavy stillness after.
It was only when the sweat started to cool that she let herself go limp against me, all the fight gone, just a quiet, contented girl draped over my chest. Her hair stuck to my skin, her arms still tight around my neck like she didn’t trust the world to let us stay like this.
We stayed tangled together, not talking, barely even breathing, until the edge of the world came back into focus: the distant waves, the garden flowers perfuming the air, the last glow of sunset painting the ceiling gold.
She kissed my neck, softer now, then slumped against my shoulder, so tired she could barely keep her eyes open.
Afterward, she lay across my chest with the notebook on the bedside table.
I held her until she slept.
For a few hours, the future looked almost possible.
My phone rang before dawn.
Yelena shifted against me, still warm and loose with sleep. I reached for the phone without moving her too much.
Serafina.
I answered at once.
“What happened?”
Her face appeared on the screen. Chicago darkness sat behind her. She wore a black shirt, hair pulled back, eyes too alert for the hour.
“Lev filed a sworn statement.”
Yelena woke at the sound of her father’s name.
I put the call on speaker.
“Read it,” I said.
Serafina’s mouth hardened.
“He claimed Yelena was abducted from a lawful engagement. He claimed she has been psychologically manipulated by foreign criminal associates. He claimed she is currently incapable of managing her companies.”
Yelena went still beside me.
I felt the stillness move through her.
“Gianni used it to petition for an emergency injunction,” Serafina continued. “He wants Yelena’s voting rights frozen while the court evaluates her capacity.”
“For how long?” I asked.
“Initially thirty days. In practice, until he controls enough of the companies to make the freeze permanent.”
Yelena pushed herself upright. The sheet slid down her shoulder.
“He’s saying I’m insane,” she said.
“He’s saying you are compromised,” Serafina replied. “It is cleaner language. Same goal.”
Angela’s face joined the call from Chicago. Pietro stood behind her, one hand on the back of her chair.
“We can fight it,” Angela said. “But Yelena will need to give evidence herself. Documents are not enough. We need her to state clearly that she left Gianni voluntarily. That she understands the business decisions she has made. That she has not been coerced.”
Yelena’s jaw tightened.
“I can do that.”
“I know,” Angela said. “But it will be hostile. Lev’s people will use every private detail they can reach.”
“They will ask about Sal.”
“Yes.”
Yelena looked at me.
I held her gaze.
“You will not face it alone,” I said.
Serafina continued. “There is more.”
Of course there was.
“Thirty Sokolov men occupied one of Yelena’s cold-storage depots outside Brooklyn. They assaulted the manager who refused them access. They announced they are protecting the business from foreign criminal interference.”
The words made my hands curl.
“Is the manager alive?” Yelena asked.
“Yes,” Serafina said. “Hospital. Broken jaw. Broken wrist. He is conscious.”
“What did they take?”
“Nothing yet. They are holding the site. Blocking inventory movement. They want the spectacle.”
Yelena swung her legs off the bed.
I caught her wrist gently.
“Where are you going?”
“To work.”
“You will work. But first you will breathe.”
“Sal.”
“Look at me.”
She did.
Her face had gone pale. Fear sat behind her eyes, but anger was stronger.
“That manager trusted me,” she said.
“I know.”
“My father is using my own company against me.”
“I know.”
“I need to call him.”
“No,” Serafina said sharply.
Yelena looked toward the screen.
“Not yet,” Serafina continued. “He wants you emotional. He wants you to threaten him or plead. We need his statement preserved as evidence of coercion.”
Pietro stepped closer to the screen.
“There is one smaller problem.”
I disliked the way he said smaller.
“A driver assigned to Kiryl missed a scheduled check-in last night,” Pietro said. “He returned forty minutes later with bruised ribs and an explanation I do not believe.”
Yelena’s breath stopped.
“Kiryl?”
“Safe,” Pietro said at once. “He was inside the ranch with Tonio. The driver has been removed from duty. He is isolated.”
“Is he hurt?”
“No.”
“Did anyone get near him?”
“No evidence of that.”
Pietro’s face stayed calm. Too calm.
“There is no proof of betrayal,” he said. “But I do not like the gap. I do not like the story. We are treating it seriously.”
Yelena looked at me.
The old panic began to rise in her. I saw it in the way she pulled her hand from mine. In the way her eyes searched the room for an exit, a phone, a task that could turn fear into something she could control.
“Serafina,” I said. “Lock down every clean company Yelena controls. No transfers without dual authentication.”
“Already in motion.”
“Angela, begin the injunction response. I want every record of Yelena’s independent work. Every authorization. Every decision she made before and after leaving Gianni.”
“I have it.”
“Pietro. Double the ranch perimeter. Nobody enters or leaves without your approval. I want the driver questioned, but alive.”
Pietro’s eyes went dark.
“Understood.”
Yelena sat beside me on the edge of the bed, firebird notebook clutched to her chest.
The island was still beautiful outside. Sea. Sun beginning to rise. White curtains lifting in the breeze.
But the war had found us again.