Chapter 14 - Kliment
“I told you not to turn this into a war room.”
Her voice carried across the patio before I even stepped fully outside, calm but edged with amusement.
I paused at the doorway for a second, watching her before announcing my presence.
Misha stood near the railing, one hand resting lightly against it, the gardens stretched out behind her in a wash of lights.
The wind moved through her hair, softening nothing about her posture.
She looked steady, as if all her healing and recovery were done at last. She looked like her old self. Strong and independent.
I stepped forward, closing the distance slowly. “It isn’t a war room.”
She turned her head just enough to look at me over her shoulder, blue eyes sharp even in the dim light. “Really? You are incapable of anything that doesn’t involve control and strategy.”
“That’s not true.”
She raised a brow slightly. “Convince me.”
I didn’t answer immediately. Instead, I moved past her towards the table I had set up earlier.
The decoration was simple, as I had kept it intentionally.
It was nothing but two plates and a bottle of wine with a bouquet of roses waiting for her.
There were no files and no weapons in sight.
No visible war and no signs of the battle that was bound to unfold soon.
None of that mattered right now. All that mattered was the two of us. Together. Alone.
When she followed me with her gaze, something in her expression shifted. The change was subtle, but it was there, and I gave her time to take everything in. To become comfortable with the idea of it all.
“Did you plan all of this for me?” she asked, her words brimming with disbelief.
It was enough to tell me that Misha Chernykh had never experienced it before, and she didn’t even expect to experience it.
She was the kind of woman who didn’t believe in being spoiled, but it was only because she had never been spoiled by anyone.
I wanted to change that. Today and every single day for the rest of our lives.
The realization hit me with a force, but I didn’t let it overpower me.
My feelings for her were growing stronger every minute, and I could sense that she was beginning to feel the same way.
But right now, it was not the time to discuss time.
Right now, I only want us to be there in the present. Our present.
“Yes. Who else would I be doing it for, Misha?” I asked, amused by her question.
“For what reason?” She was still surprised, her icy blue eyes wide with disbelief.
I pulled out her chair, not as a gesture of politeness, but something quieter. Something far more deliberate.
“Sit down,” I said.
She studied me for a second longer, as if weighing whether this was a trap or something else entirely.
She trusted me now, or else she would have never allowed me into her mission.
But I understood her instinct to question everything.
I was the same person, and that was what scared me about us.
The similarities we shared. She finally walked forward and took the seat without another word.
I moved to the other side and sat across from her. For a moment, neither of us spoke. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable or empty, but it held something heavier than either of those things. A tinge of expectation.
“You’re thinking too much,” she said finally, reaching for the glass in front of her.
“I always am.”
“Yes,” she murmured. “That’s the problem.”
I almost smiled at that. Almost. She picked up her empty glass and motioned towards me, and I immediately opened the bottle of wine to pour it for both of us.
The food was waiting for us already, and Misha quickly removed the lids from the plates.
We ate quietly for a few minutes. It was not tense or guarded but just two people who were still largely lost in their own minds, trying to make sense of it all.
It was the kind of stillness that didn’t exist in either of our worlds unless it was carved out intentionally.
She broke it first, “Kliment?”
“Misha.”
“This isn’t just dinner, is it?”
“No,” I said. “It is a lot more than that, I agree.”
She leaned back slightly, watching me now with full attention. “Then what is it?”
I held her gaze unflinchingly. “The truth.”
That got her. Not visibly or dramatically. But I saw the shift in her focus and the way her body stilled just slightly, and her fingers stopped moving against the glass.
“Alright,” she said after a second. “Go on.”
I didn’t soften it or dress it up for her.
I wasn’t ashamed to tell her the truth. I was certain she knew it already.
From the moment she had come into this house, she knew I had been chasing her that day, and I was obviously chasing her with a purpose.
None of it was pointless. But since then, everything had changed between us, and both of us knew that as well.
“That day when you went to the docks, I was following you with the intention of eventually killing you.”
I waited for her to say something, but there was no reaction. Her face displayed understanding rather than fear or disgust. I wasn’t surprised at her lack of response, having expected it already, but I still needed her to say something.
“Say something,” I beckoned, and she quietly shook her head.
“Of course you were, Kliment. I already know that, or at least I guessed it,” she said quietly.
I continued anyway. “I thought killing you and removing you from the Chernykh family structure would destabilize your family. It would create a fracture I could use.” My voice stayed even and controlled.
“It was not because you were the weakest point of your family, but after weeks of following everyone, I concluded that you were the most unpredictable. That made you dangerous and the easiest to kill. A part of me did underestimate you and considered you to be the most vulnerable.”
“That’s not new. Everyone does tend to underestimate me,” she smiled, a hint of sadness hidden behind it.
“I know. That is the reason you haven’t told your brothers anything about the mission.”
She nodded and tilted her head slightly, studying me in a way that felt far too perceptive.
“And now?”
“What now?”
“What do you feel about me now? After all this time? After knowing me fully inside and out. What do you think?” I stared at her, her question throwing me off balance. I did not remember the last time I had talked openly about my feelings for anyone, and Misha Chernykh was asking me to exactly that.
“I feel a lot of things now, Misha.”
“I want to know every single one of them,” she replied, leaning towards me.
A mischievous smile curved her lips as if she knew exactly what her questions were doing to me.
I sighed deeply and stood up from my chair, dragging it until I was sitting directly in front of her, the table no longer between us.
Whenever she was around, all I wished to do was eliminate all distance and have her in my arms at once.
If that wasn’t proof enough of my feelings for her, I didn’t know what was.
“What do you think?” I asked, taking her hand in mine.
“Don’t try to act smart and direct the question towards me, mister. I have asked you something, and I want to hear it from you. That is, if you have the courage to say it out loud,” she shrugged, her face turning into a smirk.
“Is that a challenge?” I chuckled, rolling my eyes at her.
“It is.”
I paused, staring into her eyes.
“When you first came here out of your own will and refused to tell me anything about your mission, I was naturally annoyed. My annoyance grew with the number of problems that grew in my life because of your presence, but eventually all of it stopped mattering.”
“Why?” she asked, her voice a whisper now.
“Because I came to realize how much I admired you and cared for you. I came to realize that you could be at the furthest end of the world, and I would run to you to have you in my arms. I realized that nothing else mattered to me except your presence, your wishes, your needs, and your wants. Nothing else mattered but you.”
The smirk faded from her lips as she continued to look at me, struck speechless. I continued.
“Now, I do not wish to be parted from you for a single second, Misha. I do not wish for you to go anywhere or stay away from me. I do not wish for you to get hurt, and I have the urge to make sure I am always there to protect you. It started out with my obsession for you as a hunter hunting its prey, and now I am obsessed with you as a man who has the most precious thing in the world in his possession, and he is refusing to let it go.”
“Kliment, oh god,” she whispered, finally finding her voice again. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything. I already know how you feel.”
“You do?”
“I see it in your eyes, Misha.”
I watched her carefully, every small movement, every shift in her expression. There was something different about her tonight, or perhaps it was just my gaze that made her appear different.
“You don’t regret it?” she asked. “You don’t regret not killing me that night and settling your scores with the Chernykhs?”
“Do I look like a man who regrets anything?”
“No,” she answered. “You look like a man who has got everything he has ever wanted.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Do you regret coming here and everything that has happened between us since?”
The question should have been simple. It wasn’t.
“No,” she said without a pause.
“Good,” I said softly.
The air between us shifted after that. Subtly. Irreversibly. She stood first, moving toward the railing again, her steps steady now. There was no hesitation and no visible trace of the injury that had once slowed her down. I followed a moment later.
“What happens after this?” she asked, her gaze fixed ahead of us.
“After what?”
“After Sidorov. After Volkov. After the battle is over and we win.” I admired the confidence in her voice when she talked about winning.
It felt as if it was no longer a question but something she was sure about.
The question lingered between us, heavier than anything else she had said that night.
I stepped closer, stopping just behind her.
“That,” I said quietly, “is for you to decide.”
She turned then, slowly, her eyes searching mine as if trying to measure the truth of it.
“You mean that? You will let the decision stay with me?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not trying to control the outcome?”
“No.”
She studied me for a long second. Then another.
“You’re changing,” she said.
“So are you.”
A faint smile touched her lips. “No. I’m becoming more of what I already was.”
That felt accurate. My hand moved before I thought about it, brushing a loose strand of hair back from her face. The motion was slower than it should have been. More careful. She didn’t pull away. Her breath shifted slightly, barely noticeable unless you were close enough to feel it. I was.
“You trust me,” she said quietly.
It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ve given me no reason not to.”
“That’s not true,” she countered softly. “I’ve lied. I’ve withheld information. I’ve operated behind everyone’s back, including yours.”
“And still,” I said, “you chose to stay and trust me with the most important thing in your life right now.”
Her gaze dropped briefly to my mouth before returning to my eyes.
“That wasn’t entirely strategic.”
“I know.”
Silence stretched again, but this time it carried something else beneath it. Something sharper. Her hand came up slowly, resting against my chest, fingers curling lightly into the fabric of my shirt.
“Neither is this,” she said.
And then she kissed me. There was nothing hesitant about it.
No testing. No restraint. It was immediate and intentional.
I responded just as quickly, my hand moving to her waist, pulling her closer without thinking.
She stepped into me without resistance, her other hand sliding up to my shoulder.
The world narrowed to that single point of contact.
There was nothing between us. There was her.
Just her. The kiss deepened, slower this time, more deliberate.
Her breath hitched slightly as I shifted, my hand tightening just enough at her waist to feel the response in the way she leaned into me.
Everything about this felt different from before. When we finally pulled back, it wasn’t abrupt. It wasn’t forced. It was measured. Her forehead rested briefly against mine, her breathing uneven but steadying.
“Aren’t things a little complication now,” she murmured.
“Yes.”
“Do you care?”
“No.”
That earned a quiet laugh.
“Good,” she said softly.
“You’re not alone in this,” I said finally.
Her eyes met mine again.
“I know,” she replied.
And this time, when she said it, there was no resistance behind it.
No deflection. Just truth. That was the moment I understood something clearly.
This was no longer about revenge. No longer about power.
No longer even about the war that was coming.
It was about her. And I would burn everything before I let that war take her from me.