Chapter 20
Yarik
S arah’s apartment building sits in a quiet part of Greenwich, far from the estate and the world I usually inhabit.
I’ve never been here before, having never needed to be, but after her silence today, I have to see her.
Her last text this morning was warm, almost hopeful, and then nothing. Radio silence for hours.
I climb the stairs to the second floor and find her door. When I knock, I hear movement inside, then a long pause before the deadbolt turns.
Sarah opens the door just wide enough to see me, and I immediately know something’s wrong. She’s pale, her hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail, and there’s wariness in her expression that wasn’t there this morning.
“Yarik? What are you doing here?”
“You weren’t answering my calls.” I study her face, noting the tension around her mouth, and the way she grips the door frame. “Can I come in?”
She hesitates, glancing back into the apartment, then steps aside. “Nina’s not here. She’s working late.”
The space is small but warm, with mismatched furniture that somehow works together.
Books are stacked on every surface, and there’s a throw blanket draped over the couch that looks soft and inviting.
It’s nothing like the cold perfection of the estate and somehow feels more welcome than any place I’ve lived in years.
She closes the door behind me and leans against it, arms crossed over her chest. The defensive posture tells me everything I need to know about her state of mind.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. I just... It was a long day.”
I step closer, noting how she tenses at my approach. “Sarah, talk to me. You’ve been quiet since this morning. Did something happen?”
She looks away, staring at the floor instead of meeting my gaze. “I saw someone today. Someone I thought I recognized.”
“Who?”
“Alex.” The name comes out quietly but makes me jerk instinctively. “I think he found me.”
Everything inside me goes cold and deadly calm. “Are you sure?”
“No. Maybe. I don’t know.” She finally looks at me, and the fear in her expression makes my chest tight with rage. “It was just a figure in a parking lot, but something about the way he stood, the height, and the posture all felt like him.”
I close the distance between us in two steps, reaching for her, but she flinches away from my touch. The reaction stings. “Where did you see him?”
“At the shopping center on Post Road. Nina and I were coming out of a store, and I saw someone watching from across the parking lot. When I looked again, he was gone.”
“Did Nina see him?”
“She saw someone, but she couldn’t tell if it was him.” She wraps her arms around herself more tightly. “It might have been nothing. Just paranoia.” She seems to be hoping that’s the case.
“It wasn’t nothing.” I keep my voice steady despite the fury building inside me. “Not if you’re this shaken.”
She nods, still not looking at me directly.
“He used to do watch from a distance and make me feel like I was going crazy, like I was imagining things, and then later, he’d tell me exactly where I’d been, what I’d done, and who I was with, all while making me sound like the bad guy out to hurt him.
I’d end up feeling guilty for having any kind of life that didn’t involve him.
” She shakes her head, clearly distraught by the memory and the present.
The way she describes his casual psychological torture makes me want to find this man and end him slowly. “You’re not imagining anything. If you think you saw him, then we prepare for the possibility that he’s here.”
“We?” She seems startled by the concept.
I step closer again, and this time she doesn’t pull away. “You think I’d let you handle this alone?”
Something shifts in her expression, vulnerability replacing some of the fear. “You’re engaged to another woman. You have your own problems to deal with.”
“Fuck the engagement.” The words come out harder than I intended. “You matter more than any business arrangement.”
She stares at me for a long moment, searching my face for something. “Do I?”
“Yes.” I reach for her hands, relieved when she lets me take them. “Whatever’s happening with Katya and her family, or whatever political games they’re playing doesn’t matter if you’re in danger.”
She looks down at our joined hands, her voice so quiet I have to strain to hear it. “I’m scared.”
“Of Alex?”
“Of everything, of him finding me, what that means for you, and how complicated this is all becoming.” She looks up at me with tears threatening to spill.
I bring her hands to my lips, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “Let me protect you. Let me help.”
She starts to say something, then stops, biting her lower lip like she’s holding back words. There’s something else she’s not telling me, but before I can ask, she steps closer and slides her hands up my chest.
“I don’t want to talk about Alex anymore tonight.” She starts tugging at the buttons of my shirt, and I catch her wrists gently. “What aren’t you telling me?”
She looks up at me with eyes that are too bright, too desperate. “Nothing. I just need you right now. Can’t that be enough?”
Before I can respond, she rises on her toes and kisses me, pouring something almost frantic into the contact. I taste her fear and need, and underneath it all, something that feels like goodbye.
I pull back, studying her face. “What’s really going on?”
Instead of answering, she drops to her knees in front of me, moving her hands to my belt. The sight of her looking up at me from that position, vulnerable and determined at the same time, makes me stop breaking for a second. “Sarah...”
“Please.” She unbuckles my belt with steady fingers despite the emotion in her voice. “Let me do this. Let me take care of you for once.”
There’s something in her tone that stops my protests. She needs to feel like she has some control in a situation that’s spiraling beyond her grasp. I thread my fingers through her hair as she works my pants open.
When she takes my cock in her mouth, it feels warm and perfect.
I have to brace myself against the wall behind her.
She takes her time, using her tongue and lips in ways that make my vision blur.
There’s an intensity to it that goes beyond physical pleasure, like she’s trying to memorize every detail.
“Christ, Sarah.” The words come out rough and broken.
She hums around me, the vibration making me groan, and takes me deeper. When she looks up at me, her eyes are dark with want and something else I can’t quite identify that looks almost like desperation.
I’m close to losing control when she pulls back, standing and taking my hand to lead me toward what I assume is her bedroom.
The space is small and cozy, with soft lighting and a bed covered in cream-colored linens.
She turns to face me, and her hands are shaking slightly as she reaches for the hem of her sweater.
I cover her hands with mine, stilling them. “We don’t have to do this if you’re not up for it tonight.”
“I am.” She looks up at me with fierce determination. “I need you, Yarik. I need to feel something other than fear.”
I understand that need, the desire to lose yourself in sensation until the rest of the world disappears. I’ve used sex the same way more times than I can count, though never with someone who mattered the way she does.
This time, I help her undress, taking my time with each piece of clothing until she’s standing before me in nothing but pale pink underwear. She’s beautiful in the soft lamplight, all curves and smooth skin that begs to be touched.
When I reach for the clasp of her bra, she catches my hand. “The lights.”
“Leave them on. I want to see you.”
She hesitates then nods, letting me unhook the bra and slide it down her arms. Her breasts are fuller than I remember, and I wonder briefly if it’s my imagination or if she’s put on weight. Not that it matters. She’s perfect regardless.
I start at her neck, pressing soft kisses to the pulse point that drives her wild. She tilts her head back, giving me better access, and I take advantage by trailing my tongue along the delicate curve where her neck meets her shoulder.
“You taste incredible,” I murmur against her skin, feeling her shiver beneath my touch.
My hands map every inch of her, from the soft curve of her waist to the swell of her hips. When I reach her breasts, I notice again how full they seem and more sensitive than before. The moment my mouth closes over one nipple, she arches off the bed with a gasp that goes straight to my cock.
“Oh, Yarik.” She tangles her hands in my hair, holding me against her. “That feels...”
“What?” I look up at her flushed face, then blow gently across the wet peak, making her squirm.
“Different. More intense.”
I file away that information, focusing instead on lavishing attention on both breasts until she’s writhing beneath me.
Her nipples are darker than I remember, more responsive, and I wonder again if something has changed.
Not that it matters right now. All that matters is the way she responds to my touch.
When I finally settle between her thighs, she’s already trembling with need. I take my time here too, using my mouth and tongue to map every fold and sensitive spot in her pussy that makes her cry out. She tastes sweeter than before, and I lose myself in the act of worshipping her with my mouth.
“Please,” she whispers, her hands fisted in the sheets. “I need you inside me.”
I use my mouth and fingers to bring her to the edge, focusing on her clit and the bundle of nerves inside her to make her whimper with need.
I pull back just before she can fall over.
She makes a frustrated sound that goes straight to my cock, lifting her hips off the bed as she chases the friction I’ve denied her.
“Yarik, please, I need?—”
“I know what you need.” I move up her body, settling between her legs. “I’m going to take care of you.”
When I enter her, she gasps, her back arching off the bed. There’s no barrier between us, just skin against skin, and the sensation is incredible. She feels different somehow, tighter and more sensitive, and I have to grit my teeth to maintain control.
“You feel so good,” I murmur against her neck, my voice rough with need. “Perfect.”
She responds by rolling her hips, taking me deeper, and I groan at the exquisite friction. She moves her hands down my back, digging nails into my skin as she tries to pull me impossibly closer.
We move together slowly at first, savoring the connection. Each thrust is designed to draw out the pleasure for both of us. I watch her face in the lamplight, memorizing every expression that crosses her features.
“Yarik.” My name falls from her lips like a prayer.
I lean down to capture her mouth in a kiss that’s deep and consuming. “Tell me what you need.”
“You. Just you.” Her voice breaks slightly on the words. “Always you.”
The vulnerability in her tone undoes something inside me. I begin to move faster, driven by the need to show her with my body what words can’t express. She meets me thrust for thrust, her legs wrapped around my waist while her breath comes in short gasps against my ear.
I kiss her again, pouring twenty years of loneliness and fear into the contact. She responds with equal fervor, tangling her hands in my hair as she holds me close. She arches beneath me, her inner walls fluttering around my cock in a way that makes me see stars. “Yarik, I’m close.”
“Come for me.” I reach between us to stroke her clit, applying just enough pressure to send her over the edge. “I want to feel you fall apart.”
She does, her orgasm crashing over her with an intensity that takes my breath away. Her back arches off the bed, my name spilling from her lips in a broken cry as her body clenches around mine. The sight and sensation of her coming undone pushes me past my own breaking point.
I follow her over, my release tearing through me with devastating force.
Her name becomes a litany on my lips as my cock twitches before I spill my release inside her, marking her as mine in the most primitive way possible.
The emotion of it overwhelms me, leaving me shaking and vulnerable in ways I haven’t been since I was thirteen years old.
Afterward, we lie tangled together, both of us struggling to catch our breath. She traces lazy patterns on my chest while I run my fingers through her hair, neither of us willing to break the spell that’s settled over us.
Afterward, we lie tangled together, her head on my chest and my arms wrapped around her like I can shield her from the world. She traces patterns on my skin with her fingertip, and I watch the play of shadows on the ceiling.
“I meant what I said,” I tell her quietly. “I’ll keep you safe from him.”
She’s quiet for so long I think she might have fallen asleep. Then she speaks, her voice small and uncertain. “What if it’s too late? What if Alex really is here?”
“Then I’ll handle it.”
“How?”
I press a kiss to the top of her head, my voice carrying all the deadly certainty I’ve learned in twenty years of violence. “However I have to.”
She shivers against me, and I tighten my arms around her, determined to shield her from the world and anyone who might harm her. Whether it’s Alex, Katya, or some threat I haven’t even envisioned, I’ll keep her safe.
fully relaxing against me, she falls asleep first, her breathing evening out against my ribs.
I watch her in the dim light, memorizing the way her hair fans across my chest and the peaceful expression on her face.
She looks more vulnerable when she sleeps, and something fierce and protective rises inside me.
I can’t give her or this up. I have to figure out how to extract myself from the Nikitin alliance without starting a war.
I also need to find out if Alex is really here and deal with him if he is.
I’ll have to navigate the political fallout and the inevitable violence that comes with choosing love over duty, but right now, I savor having Sarah safe in my arms and fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.