Chapter 37

“That’s complicated.”

“Uncomplicate it for me, Vince.”

He sighs, turning to pace the length of the living room. “My father has given me two months to choose a bride from his approved list. If I don’t, I lose everything—the company, the Bratva, my inheritance.”

“And I’m not on that list,” I guess.

“No.” He stops, facing me again. “You’re definitely not.”

“So what am I? A distraction until you marry someone ‘suitable’?”

“You’re a complication,” he says, echoing his words from the car. “An unexpected variable that’s forced me to reconsider my plans.”

“What plans?”

He approaches again, this time reaching for my face, his palm warm against my cheek. “I intended to choose one of my father’s candidates. Make a business arrangement disguised as a marriage. Take control of my birthright and continue as I always have.”

“And now?”

His thumb brushes over my lower lip. “Now, I find myself reluctant to proceed as planned.”

Something warm unfurls in my chest, despite everything. “Because of me?”

“Yes.” He doesn’t elaborate, doesn’t offer pretty words or promises. Just that stark admission.

I close my eyes, leaning into his touch despite myself. The events of the night are catching up to me—the car crash, the attack, the killing. My body aches. My head pounds. Exhaustion seeps into my bones.

“I can’t think about this now,” I admit. “I’m too tired.”

“Then don’t think.” Vince’s voice is soft. “Just rest. We can talk more when you’ve slept.”

He leads me down a hallway to a bedroom—not his, I notice, but a guest room with a king-sized bed and more of those floor-to-ceiling windows, now covered with blackout curtains. The bed is already turned down, as if he knew this is where I’d end up.

“Sleep,” he says again, stepping back. “You’re safe here. No one can reach this floor without my authorization.”

I sink onto the edge of the bed, suddenly aware of how utterly wrung out I am.

“Vince,” I call as he turns to leave. “I still don’t know what I want. Or what I’m going to do.”

He pauses in the doorway. “I know.”

“But there’s one thing I am sure of.”

“What’s that?”

I meet his gaze steadily. “I’m not afraid of you. Even after what I saw tonight. I’m afraid of your world, of what might happen next. But not of you.”

He lingers. I don’t know what to call the look on his face: relief, melancholy, something more, something less, something different.

“You should be,” he says softly. “Afraid of me, I mean.”

“Maybe.” I offer a weak smile. “But I’m not.”

He nods, understanding passing between us. “Sleep well, Rowan.”

The door closes behind him, and I’m alone in the quiet luxury of his guest room. I sink into the impossibly soft mattress, too exhausted to even pull back the covers.

I meant what I said. I’m not afraid of Vince, even though I’ve seen firsthand what he’s capable of. What scares me is how much I still want him, despite everything—or maybe because of it.

That realization follows me into dreams filled with gunshots, blood on the pavement, and blue eyes watching me with fierce protectiveness as the world falls apart around us.

26

VINCE

I stand in the doorway, watching Rowan sleep.

She didn’t even make it under the covers. Just collapsed on top of the bed, still wearing my shirt, her body finally surrendering to exhaustion after everything she’s been through.

Everything I put her through.

Her face is peaceful now. The cut on her cheek has stopped bleeding, but the angry red line remains—a permanent reminder of how close we came to something much worse.

I should leave. Give her privacy. There are a dozen calls I need to make, arrangements that won’t wait.

Instead, I find myself moving closer.

Her hair fans across the pillow, tangled and still spotted with debris from the crash. One hand curls near her face, fingers bent like she’s reaching for something even in sleep.

I’ve seen countless women in my bed over the years. Beautiful women. Powerful women. Women who knew exactly what they were getting into with a man like me.

None of them have affected me like her.

None of them have made me question everything I’ve spent my life building.

It’s fucking infuriating.

I reach down, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. She doesn’t stir. Her breathing remains deep and even.

“What am I going to do with you?” I murmur, though I know she can’t hear me.

The cut on her cheek makes my stomach clench with a rage I’m not accustomed to controlling.

I’ve felt anger before. This is different. This is white-hot and chaotic. This makes me want to burn the whole fucking world down for daring to harm her.

I pull the throw blanket from the foot of the bed and carefully drape it over her. She sighs in her sleep, turning toward the warmth.

Quietly, I leave the room, closing the door behind me.

In my office, I pick up the secure phone and dial.

“It’s me,” I say when Arkady answers. “I need a security detail at Rowan’s apartment building. Four men minimum. Around the clock surveillance.”

“Already in place,” Arkady replies. “Sent them the moment we dropped you off.”

I nod, even though he can’t see me. “Good. And the hospital?”

“Two men outside her mother’s room. Another two patrolling the floor. The staff thinks they’re private security hired by the family.”

“They are now,” I say. “Make sure they know to be discreet. The mother doesn’t need to be alarmed.”

“Understood. What about you? How’s our little witness holding up?”

I move to the window, looking out at the city stretching below. “She’s sleeping.”

“And when she wakes up? You think she’ll run straight to the cops?”

“No.” The answer comes without hesitation. I’m not sure when I became so certain of her loyalty, but I am. “She won’t talk.”

“How can you be sure?”

Because she looked at me with those green eyes, even after watching me kill a man, and said she wasn’t afraid of me.

Because she could have run a dozen times and didn’t.

“I just am,” I say instead.

Arkady sighs. “This is a complication we don’t need right now, Vin. Between your father’s ultimatum and the Solovyov situation⁠—”

“I’m handling it,” I cut him off.

“Are you? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re getting⁠—”

“Don’t say it.”

“—attached,” he finishes anyway.

“She’s an asset,” I reply, too quickly. “Nothing more.”

“Bullshit.”

I close my eyes, fighting for control. “What’s your point?”

“My point is, your father already thinks she’s a distraction. After tonight, he’s going to see her as a liability. A weak point in your armor.”

“She’s under my protection now. That’s non-negotiable.”