Chapter 24

CHAPTER 24

A leksei

I lay there with Amy, her naked body curled into mine. Her breathing was slow and steady, her warmth pressed against me, her softness making it hard to think about anything else. She stirred slightly, murmuring something incoherent in her sleep, and I smiled, trailing my fingers lazily down her arm.

She was perfect.

Everything about tonight—the way she’d given herself to me so completely, so willingly—only confirmed what I already knew. She wasn’t just special; she was the one. The way she surrendered under my hands, the way her body responded to my every touch, it was… unmatched.

I’d never felt this way before. Never felt so consumed by anyone.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the way she looked at me, her eyes blazing with defiance even as her body melted under my command. She was a paradox—a storm I wanted to master, and yet, one I wanted to protect at all costs.

“I love you,” I whispered into the quiet room. The words just fell from me, slipping free from my lips without a second thought.

I didn’t think. I just felt.

To my surprise, she stirred again, her lashes fluttering as she turned her face slightly toward me. “I love you too,” she mumbled, her voice soft and sleepy, as if she’d heard me in a dream.

My chest tightened at her words, and I pressed a kiss to her hair. “That’s right, baby girl,” I murmured, my voice a low promise. “I love you.”

I held her a little tighter, feeling her relax against me. The weight of her trust was as humbling as it was exhilarating. In that moment, I knew—this wasn’t just about control or dominance. It was something far deeper, something I hadn’t dared to name until now.

Love.

And as I lay there, holding her close, I realized that as terrifying as the thought of love was, it didn’t matter. Because no matter what, I wasn’t going to let her go.

Tomorrow, I’d take her deeper into my world. But tonight, I’d hold her like this, the steady rhythm of her breathing the only sound I needed to hear.

I pressed another kiss to the top of her head and let my eyes drift closed, content in the knowledge that for the first time in years, I was exactly where I needed to be.

The first rays of sunlight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my bedroom, painting the walls in hues of soft gold and pale yellow. I stirred, feeling the warmth of Amy’s body nestled against mine, her head resting on my chest, her breathing deep and even.

I didn’t want to move. Holding her like this, with the quiet stillness of morning surrounding us, was a rare kind of peace I hadn’t known I needed. But the day was waiting, and there were things to do.

Shifting slightly, I brushed my fingers through her dark hair, the silky strands slipping between them.

“Sweetheart,” I murmured. “It’s morning.”

She stirred, groaning sleepily as she buried her face against my chest. “Five more minutes,” she mumbled, her voice muffled and heavy with sleep.

A smirk tugged at my lips. “If I let you have five more minutes, it’ll turn into twenty.”

She opened one eye, squinting up at me. “And that’s a problem because?”

“Because we have work to do,” I said, brushing a kiss against her forehead.

Her groggy protest was adorable, but she sat up, rubbing her eyes and pushing her dark waves out of her face. The sight of her, flushed and tousled from sleep, stirred something deep in me.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, standing and stretching before glancing back at her.

“The meeting with Santini is set.”

Her eyes widened slightly, the sleepiness vanishing from her expression.

“ The Leonardo Santini?” she asked, her voice more cutting now.

“The very same,” I said, crossing to the dresser to pull out a clean shirt. “It’s happening this afternoon at the gallery.”

She bit her lip, looking thoughtful as she pulled the sheet up around her. “So… what’s the plan? Are you showing him specific pieces, or is this more about feeling him out?”

“Both,” I said, shrugging into the shirt and buttoning it up. “He’s interested in a few items from our collection, but I want to get a read on him—what his real interests are, where his loyalties lie. Santini doesn’t make moves without purpose, and neither do I.”

Amy nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Do you think he’s connected to the Orlovs?”

“It’s possible,” I admitted, my voice steady. “But we won’t know until I can get a read on him in person.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and I could see the wheels turning in her head. She was always thinking, always analyzing, and it was one of the things I admired most about her.

“Don’t overthink it, baby girl,” I said, stepping closer and tilting her chin up with a finger. “I’ll handle Santini. Your job is to stay close, observe, and do exactly as I say.”

Her brows furrowed slightly, a hint of defiance sparking in her eyes, but she nodded.

“Fine,” she said, though her tone suggested she wasn’t entirely thrilled about being sidelined.

I leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to her lips. “Good girl,” I murmured against her mouth. “Now get dressed. We have a long day ahead of us.”

She smirked my way and I gave her a pointed look before she stuck her tongue out and winked.

“Yes, Daddy,” she huffed, before she flounced away into my closet.

Completely naked.

She glanced over her shoulder and caught me watching her, which only made her grin even wider. I playfully narrowed my gaze in her direction, and she squealed, dashing around the corner until she was out of sight.

The little brat.

She’d be over my knee again before she knew it.

And I knew without a doubt that we would both enjoy it.

The gallery was quiet when we arrived. Amy walked beside me, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor, her gaze flicking over the room as if she were cataloging every tiny detail.

I didn’t blame her for being on edge. Meetings like this always carried an undercurrent of danger. But I had planned for that. My men were stationed discreetly throughout the gallery, their presence invisible but ever watchful.

As we approached the private viewing room, I placed a hand on the small of her back, guiding her forward.

“Remember,” I said, keeping my voice low. “Let me lead. Follow my cues.”

She nodded, her chin lifting slightly in that defiant way I’d come to adore. “I’ll be fine, Aleksei.”

That’s what I’m worried about , I thought, but I kept the words to myself.

Leonardo Santini was already waiting when we entered. He stood near one of the displays, his dark suit impeccable, his posture relaxed, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He turned at our approach, a charming smile spreading across his face.

“Aleksei Morozov,” he greeted, his Italian accent smooth and deliberate. “And you must be Amy.”

Amy glanced at me briefly before offering a polite nod. “Mr. Santini,” she said, her voice steady.

“Please, call me Leo,” he said, his smile widening as he extended a hand.

I stepped forward, taking his hand before Amy could, my grip firm. “Let’s get to it, Santini,” I said, my tone curt. “We both know this isn’t a social call.”

The smile didn’t falter, but I saw the flicker of something darker in his eyes. “Straight to business, then. I can respect that.”

We moved to the table, where a selection of curated pieces had been arranged for his consideration. Amy stood slightly behind me, her presence a quiet but steady anchor.

Santini leaned over one of the paintings, his fingers brushing lightly along the frame.

“Impressive,” he said, his tone casual. “You’ve got quite the collection, Morozov. But then, I suppose that’s to be expected.”

“Flattery won’t get you a discount,” I said dryly, watching him carefully.

He chuckled, his gaze flicking to me. “I wouldn’t dream of asking.”

“Why don’t you tell me what you’re really after, Santini?” I said, leaning back in my chair. “You didn’t come here just to admire the art.”

He hesitated, just for a moment, before his smile returned. “You’re right,” he admitted. “I’m looking for something specific. Something… more rare.”

“That’s vague,” I said, my voice hardening.

Santini shrugged, his smile turning sharp. “It’s how I do business.”

I was about to respond when the sound of footsteps rang out from the other room. The door to the viewing room opened, and two men entered.

They weren’t my men.

I stood immediately, my hand moving to Amy’s arm, pulling her behind me.

“What is this?” I demanded.

Santini’s smile faded, replaced by a look of feigned regret. “I was hoping we could avoid this,” he said. “But the Orlovs made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

The words hit like a booming round of thunder, and I felt the blood drain from my face.

“You sold me out,” I said, my voice low and dangerous. Honestly, I shouldn’t be surprised, knowing he had ties to the Orlovs, but I didn’t expect the tables to turn so quickly without a chance to at least negotiate terms first.

“It’s nothing personal, Morozov,” he said, backing toward the door. “Just business.”

The strangers moved forward, their hands reaching for concealed weapons, and the room erupted into chaos.

“Down!” I barked, pulling Amy to the floor as the first shot rang out.

Her eyes darted around the room, sharp and calculating. Even now, with danger closing in, she wasn’t panicking.

I pulled my Glock from its holster, firing off two quick shots that dropped the man nearest to us. Orlov’s men returned with gunfire of their own.

“Go, baby girl!” I ordered, shoving her toward a side alcove for cover as another round of bullets tore through the air.

But Amy didn’t run. Instead, she scrambled toward a fallen man, her hands moving deftly to his weapon—a sleek Sig Sauer pistol. I froze for a split second, disbelief and admiration flooding me as she checked the chamber like she’d done it a hundred times before.

“What the hell are you doing?” I growled, firing another shot to keep the men at bay.

She crouched beside me, the gun clutched tightly in her hands. “Helping!”

Her voice was steady, even as her hands trembled slightly. She fired her first shot, missing wide, but the second found its mark, clipping the shoulder of an advancing thug.

Damn .

I didn’t have time to scold, or even praise her, not with bullets flying and Santini himself nowhere to be seen. Another man rushed toward us, and I fired, dropping him in one clean shot. Amy spun around, firing at another attacker and forcing him into retreat.

“You’re full of surprises,” I muttered, ducking behind a display case.

“Is that your way of saying you’re impressed?” she shot back, her voice edged with adrenaline and defiance. There was a hint of a smirk on the edge of her lips.

I wanted to kiss it right off.

“Later,” I growled, though I couldn’t deny the surge of pride—and arousal—that rushed through me at the sight of her holding her own. “Head for the back exit,” I commanded, grabbing Amy’s arm as we made a break for it.

She nodded, her breathing ragged but her grip on the gun steady. Together, we moved through the chaos, covering each other as we fought our way toward safety.

We were close—so damn close—when I heard the shrill bark of an order in Russian, and suddenly, the air around us shifted.

Shit .

A heavy blow caught me from behind, and I stumbled, my grip on Amy slipping as two men surged forward. She turned, her eyes wide with panic as I shoved her toward the exit.

“Go!” I shouted, my voice harsh.

“No!” she cried, her gun raised, but I shook my head.

“Get her out of here!” I snarled to one of my men who’d made it through the chaos.

“Aleksei!” Amy’s voice cracked with desperation as she fought against the hands pulling her away.

I twisted, breaking free from the men surrounding me long enough to shove her toward the exit.

“Go, Amy! That’s an order!”

Her tear-filled eyes locked onto mine for a split second before my men dragged her away. The last thing I saw was her struggling against them, her voice calling my name as they disappeared into the shadows of the alley.

And then they were on me.

Fists landed, heavy and deliberate, and the world narrowed to pain and the sharp taste of blood in my mouth. I swung, landing a blow on one of them before another strike took me to my knees.

Through the haze of pain, I caught a glimpse of Santini’s smirk as he stepped forward, his voice smooth and mocking. “You should’ve stayed in your own little world, Morozov.”

But as they dragged me toward the back of the gallery, my only thought was of Amy.

Of her bravery.

Of the fire in her eyes as she fought beside me.

I just had to survive long enough to get back to her.