52. Andrey

52

ANDREY

It's been a long time since I woke up next to a woman. And as I do, I wait for the guilt to set in. For the reservations to launch me out of the bed and as far from her presence as I can manage.

But neither happens.

Strange.

It gets slightly less strange when I look down at her face. Then it makes sense. It's easy to be captivated by how peaceful she looks, curled up on my side, her eyes fluttering in a dream, her lips parted. She's a painting come to life. A living, breathing masterpiece that's somehow landed—quite literally—in my lap.

Only a fool would turn away something this precious.

Natalia stirs slowly, blinking into consciousness as she rolls onto her back, a curtain of dark hair falling against her face. I push it aside and she looks at me.

"Andrey," she breathes. "You stayed."

"I stayed."

"I was scared you'd slip away in the middle of the night while I slept."

"I'll be honest: it crossed my mind."

"Because of Maria?"

I freeze, shocked to hear that name from Natalia's lips. "Who?—"

"I'm not going to tell you who mentioned her to me," she interrupts. "Rest assured, it was purely accidental and I know no more than her name. Although—" Her mouth turns down apologetically. "—I have made a few guesses."

I clear my throat. "What have you guessed?"

Her eyebrows knit together. "That Maria was very important to you. That you lost her a long time ago. And that, maybe, she's part of the reason you keep me at arm's length all the time."

As she speaks, goosebumps erupt all over her arms despite how warm and cozy it is in bed.

"Perceptive," I acknowledge.

Her hand grazes my chest, right over my thudding heart. "Am I right?"

I look down at her. "Except for the part where it was my fault that she died in the first place."

A startled gasp escapes her. "That's not true."

"Trust me: I wish it weren't."

"It would have been an accident then," she states. "Just a mistake."

I'm not sure what I've done to earn her trust. Or her faith in me. I feel undeserving of both. "My mistake was thinking I could live a normal life," I explain in halting syllables. "My mistake was being foolish enough to think that I could have the best of both worlds."

She sits up a little, resting her head against my arm. "Was it him again?" she asks, pointedly avoiding Nikolai's name. "Did he kill her?"

"I don't know. I was so lost in rage that I killed every man there before I could question any of them. I'll never know who sent them or what the purpose of their mission was. Those questions will haunt me for the rest of my life."

"Oh, Andrey…" she whispers, tears glistening in her eyes.

My voice goes raspy as I lapse back into the memories. "It was a weekend run to Michigan. I was meant to be in and out in a few days. Easy, no fuss, no complications. I'm the one who convinced her to come with me. It was just the two of us in the villa. No security because she was determined to have privacy and, fool that I was, I decided to make her happy ."

"You couldn't have known…"

"That's the thing: I should have known. I was the newly-minted pakhan of the Kuznetsov Bratva. Of course there were eyes on me. Of course my enemies had doubled. I was a fool to think that my new position didn't come with a new and unique set of dangers."

Her grip on my chest tightens. It grounds me. Steadies me.

"There were five or six men, I think—I can't remember now. I was outnumbered and unprepared. And proud. I tried to fight them off on my own."

"One versus six," Natalia gasps. "How did you survive?"

My jaw clenches. "Ironically, Maria saved me. The moment I saw her die, I was filled with this black fury, an uncontrollable hatred. Her death gave me the surge I needed to kill them."

She shudders, drawing me back to her molten green eyes. They're wet with tears. "I'm so sorry, Andrey."

There's a lump in my throat that I haven't allowed myself to feel in quite a while. Somehow, though, her presence makes it bearable.

"So am I."

"That's why you've been so overbearing with my security."

I brush a stray tear from her cheek. "I don't repeat my mistakes, lastochka . I'm not willing to risk your safety after what happened with Maria."

Natalia props herself up against the headboard and pulls me towards her. She cradles me close, holding me the same way I held her through the worst of her catatonia. We don't speak, but she presses a kiss to my cheek every few minutes, a small reminder that she's still here.

And fuck, does it feel good.

After a long time, she strokes her fingers through my hair and kisses my lips. It's soft and fleeting and full of promise.

"How about some breakfast?" she suggests.

The idea of leaving the pool house twists my stomach in uncomfortable knots. Leaving these four walls might break whatever spell has allowed the two of us to let down our guards and simply exist together.

"Or I can whip us up something right here," Natalia suggests as if we're on the same wavelength. "If you don't mind enduring my subpar cooking."

"How can I say no to an offer like that?"

She slips out of bed, giving me a full view of her perfect body before she pulls on her silk robe.

"I hope you have a strong stomach," she warns before disappearing into the kitchen. "I might've oversold my cooking skills."

It's the smell of burning that draws me to the kitchen five minutes later.

"This is my kitchen, Andrey," she warns with a spatula aimed at me like a sword. "My kitchen means my rules."

I lift my hands in surrender. "I'm simply offering to be your sous chef. Do you need anything?"

I scan the kitchen for the source of the rancid smell. At the same time, Natalia spots it. "Oh, no! The eggs!"

The fire is on full blast, flames licking up the sides of the pan so the edge of the eggs are turning black, but the center is still a sloppy mess.

Natalia yanks the pan off the stove and is headed for the trash, but I slip it out of her hands.

"This is salvageable."

I kick down the heat, scoop out the worst of the burnt bits, and give the eggs a good mix.

"Of course you're good at this, too," she grumbles behind me. "This is embarrassing."

I can't help but laugh. "No, it's not."

"I almost set eggs on fire." She wrings her hands in front of her waist. "I was just nervous. I've never cooked for a man before. Or in this kitchen, and?—"

I grab her by the hips and reel her in towards me. She folds into my body with a gasp and I catch her lips with mine. When we pull apart, her cheeks are flushed.

"Luckily, I have a strong stomach." I turn her towards the stove. "You finish cooking for me. I'll eat them even if they catch on fire."

In the end, the eggs are rubbery, but edible. Natalia and I eat them together. The windows and curtains remain closed. The pool house remains our own little world.

We don't let ourselves talk about the people who are no doubt congregated in the main house, probably wondering what the hell is going on between us. We let it be just the two of us.

It's not until mid-day that Natalia sighs into my chest. "I should go see how Misha and Remi are doing."

I plant a kiss on the top of her head. "I suppose I should talk to my men."

We hesitate, waiting to see if there's any way we can put it off and stay here.

But duty calls. It always does. My obligations have never ended simply because I wanted them to.

"Everyone will want to know how you're doing."

Natalia cringes. "I must have freaked them out."

"Only because they love you."

"Andrey…" She squeezes my wrist, holding me in the pool house for another second longer. "Thank you. For everything"

"Put your money where your mouth is." I unwrap myself from her arms and get to my feet. "You can thank me by having dinner with me."

She brightens. "Tonight?"

"Tonight." I wink. "Wear something pretty."