“I thought you weren’t coming back,” I breathe against his neck.

  “Malyshka, I would not leave you without saying goodbye.” Goodbye? So he is leaving.

  I force myself to pull away from him and fix my face in a mask. “Why are you here?”

  His expression becomes serious. “We need to talk.”

  “About what?”

  He cocks a brow. “You know what.”

  I do. Of course. On a nod, I lead him to the living room and take a seat on the couch. He sits beside me, and though we’re close, I feel a distance between us. I’m nervous and awkward.

  “You look tired, Adelina.” He reaches out, swiping a thumb beneath my eye. There was a time when he would never have touched me so casually.

  “What did you want to talk about?” I ask. I’d rather get this out of the way.

  “You. Your future.”

  I sigh, my gaze drifting to the gardens beyond the windows. A lot of the flowers are no longer in bloom, shying away from the colder months. “I didn’t ask for any of this. I was never supposed to be here. Gabi was groomed for it, taught to lead. I was going to be…normal.”

  I glance at Sasha, and he offers me a pitiful smile. “That’s no longer an option, malyshka.”

  “I know. I made deals with Nero and Ronan.” I shake my head, hating that after all I’ve been through, I’m still just a pawn. Nothing has changed. “I’m trapped.”

  “The powerless often have few choices. Perhaps the way out of this is to dive in further.”

  “What?”

  “Gain power. The more power you have, the more choices are available to you. Use men like Nero and Ronan, and then stand on level ground with them.”

  “I don’t know how.”

  He shakes his head. “You are far stronger than you think.”

  There’s a long pause, and I steal myself to speak the only question I really want an answer to.

  “What about you, Sasha? What will you do now?”

  His eyes meet mine, narrowing slightly. “What would you have of me?”

  I frown. “That’s not what I asked.”

  “It’s what I’m asking,” he counters. “What would you have of me, malyshka?”

  “I love you.” I shrug one shoulder, unaware of what else to say.

  His eyes soften, something akin to pity flashing through them. “I killed your father. We never really discussed it. That’s not something you can just…get over.”

  I close my eyes. “You didn’t know, Sasha. You didn’t know me, or him, or what would transpire.”

  It’s taken me some time to come to terms with the fact, but I don’t blame Sasha. He was following orders, doing a job, nothing more. Enrique was the perpetrator in all of this. Every single part. He always has been.

  “You forgave me for trying to kill you,” I say.

  “It was justified.”

  “You would have let me kill you,” I whisper.

  We both know he could have stopped me in a heartbeat, but he didn’t. He was willing to die, and for what?

  “To bring you peace, yes. For some kind of justice for all your loss, yes.”

  “You feel guilty for killing a man you didn’t know.”

  His jaw clenches, and a low breath hisses from him. “If I’d known…” His eyes lock with mine. “How could I possibly have predicted you, malyshka?” For a moment, he looks so lost as though nothing in his world makes sense anymore.

  I reach out, cupping his jaw. “I forgive you.”

  He closes his eyes, leaning into my hold. “Do not say the words if you do not mean them, Adelina. This is no small thing.”

  I shift closer to him, and his eyes flash open, icy blue baring into me as though he could see my soul. “I mean them, Sasha. You’re a good man. I know that.”

  “I kill people for a living.” For the first time since I’ve known him, he looks like he regrets that.

  “My father killed people, so did Gabi. It’s just business.” I snap. “I won’t justify how I feel about you. If it’s wrong, then so be it.” I close my eyes and drop my forehead to his, inhaling the clean, minty scent that always seems to cling to him. “You’re all I have left, Sasha.” Realization washes over me, and I push away from him, trying to steel my heart. “But if you don’t feel the same way, I understand.”

  A small smile touches his lips as he tilts his head to the side. “Malyshka,” he practically purrs. “I love you in a way I didn’t believe existed before. You are…a rainbow to a blind man.”

  I wrap my hand around the back of his neck, clinging to him.

  “But, you need to grieve. You’re vulnerable at the moment. Forgiving me may be rash.”

  I consider his words for a second. “You know the funny thing is, I’ve come to terms with my father’s death. He ran a mafia, did bad things. He chose this life, and ultimately it caught up with him. I still can’t truly forgive him for selling me to Enrique in the first place.” I drop my gaze to my knotted fingers in my lap. “It’s Gabi I can’t get past.” I blink back tears. I feel like I’ve cried so much in the last few months. “She was young, a naïve girl trying to follow in Daddy’s footsteps.” I shake my head. “She deserved so much more, Sasha.”

  “I know,” he whispers. “The world is not just.”

  “I need you. Please don’t leave me.”

  He stares at me for long moments before he lets out a sigh. “I am here for as long as you need me, malyshka.”

  “Promise?”

  He smiles. “Always.”

  That should be enough, but it’s not. A small voice in the back of my mind whispers that I’m weak, and he sees it. I am here for as long as you need me. What happens when I don’t need him?

  The scent of coffee and French toast fills the kitchen. The TV plays on the counter, the incessant thrum a backing noise to the chatter in the kitchen. Lorenzo sits at one end of the breakfast bar, two of his men on either side of him. They’re discussing last night’s football game. The old man is still not himself, grief has warped him, as it has me, but we’re both trying to survive and live the best we can. It’s still fresh and raw. Gabriella isn’t even in the ground yet.

  I grab a cup of coffee and prop my hip against the bar, clasping the mug in my hands. Sasha comes to stand beside me, his arm brushing mine seemingly casually, but I’m hyperaware of him.

  “The body of businessman Enrique Bianchi was found this morning, hanging from a statue in front of the governor’s office building.”

  I tear my attention from Sasha, watching the images of flashing sirens and journalists pressing against the taped-off crime scene.

  Sasha snorts. “That was…”

  “A fitting and undignified end?” Lorenzo says, a wicked smile gracing the old man’s lips.

  “The Russian should be pleased,” I mumble.

  My instructions to Lorenzo were simple. Make a public spectacle. Usually, we work in secret, behind closed doors. My father taught me that. However, this served three purposes. It placated Ronan Cole and his wishes. It sent a clear message to everyone who had dealings with Enrique that there is a new boss in town and presents the image that I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty. Lastly, it serves as a precursor to the governor of Palermo, who I will be meeting within the near future to cut a deal. Fear is always such a strong motivator.

  My phone rings, and I frown at the unknown number before answering. “Hello?”

  “Ah, Adelina,” the heavily accented Russian voice drawls.

  “Ronan.”

  Sasha’s eyes snap to mine, a frown tugging his brows together.

  “I do love a dramatic entrance. No one has any imagination anymore. You, my dear, are an artist.” He sighs almost wistfully. “I’ll be in touch soon.”

  He hangs up. I have no idea what I’ve gotten myself into with Ronan Cole. It feels like I bartered a deal without knowing what I would have to give, but when he’s giving me my life… any favor seems fair.

  This is it, the final step. Closure.

  A warm breeze drifts through the olive groves on top of the hill, rustling the leaves before sweeping through the gravestones that are littered through the quaint graveyard. I stare at the three headstones in front of me. Catalina Maria Ricci, Eduardo David Ricci, and Gabriella Catalina Ricci. The last one has a gaping hole in front of it. The last one should not be here.

  Sasha’s fingers wind through mine as he stands vigil beside me. I cling to him because he feels like the only thing holding me together right now. The priest speaks words meant as comfort, but they feel hollow and pointless. There are no words, no scriptures, or religious ideals that can possibly justify this. Some people say they find their faith in times of suffering, in grief. Whatever faith I once had is now lost. No God would do this, take someone so young.

  As I watch my sisters coffin lower into the cold ground, my tears are curiously absent. I have mourned her, replayed her death over in my mind a thousand times, it makes no difference. Losing her both broke and hardened me in ways I never could have imagined. I’ve accepted that I’m alone in this world now.

  I remember standing in this exact place when we buried my mother, clinging to my father, crying because at six years old, I didn’t really understand death. We’re now intimately acquainted. My father cried with me that day, and so did Gabi. Now they’re all here. All together.

  I step forward, a single red rose clutched between my fingers. I peer over the edge of the grave and drop it inside, watching the velvety petals kiss the polished, shiny surface of the coffin.

  As they begin shoveling dirt into the grave, I turn away, unable to watch them entomb her beneath six feet of dirt. I expect to feel…at peace, as though justice has been served, but I don’t, not really. This much loss of life, so young, how can that ever be right?

  When I get home, I want…I want a drink. Kicking off my heels, I pad through the house that was once so full of life and laughter. In the office, I find my father’s expensive bottle of bourbon. Years he kept this, saying it was for a special occasion. Now seems as good of a time as any, so I pop the top and tip it back, letting the age-old liquor kiss my lips and trickle down my throat.

  The office door drifts open, the hinges letting out a squeal before revealing Sasha. He leans against the frame, thick arms folded over his chest and a look of concern on his face. I collapse into the chair and kick my bare feet up onto the desk.

  “Want some?” I thrust the bourbon at him, and he saunters into the room.

  “You’re drinking. Should I be worried?”

  “Maybe you should stop thinking so much and just join in.”

  He rounds the desk and leans against it in front of me, crossing one ankle over the other. He plucks the bottle from my fingers and turns it up. I watch as his throat bobs on a heavy swallow.

  I take the bottle and tip it back once more. A smile crosses my lips at the thought of my father seeing this. He’d be horrified. Good liquor should be in crystal. That’s what he always said. When Gabi was a teenager, she’d regularly steal his whiskey by slipping it in a mug and pretending it was coffee. He called her uncouth more times than I can remember. He’d be turning in his grave, knowing I’m drinking his rare, vintage bourbon straight from the bottle.

  “Are you okay?” Sasha asks quietly.

  I place the bottle onto the desk in front of me. “Am I okay?” I ponder the question in my mind. “I don’t know.” We fall into a comfortable silence for a moment. “Can I ask you a question?”

  The confused frown that is so familiar to me now graces his face. “Of course.”

  I lean back in the chair, staring at the bottle on the desk. “Those soldiers, The Elite, they were so…cold. Were you like that? Before?”

  “Emotions serve no place in The Elite. They make you weak.”

  I look at him. “Do you believe that? That emotions are weak?”

  His eyes soften as he reaches out, gently grasping my chin. “I did. When I met you. I resented you for making me feel like this.”

  “And now?”

  “Now…everything is different.”

  I dip my chin to my chest, and he releases me. “You know, sometimes, I wish I could just go back. Be…normal.”

  “That’s impossible now.” His troubled gaze meets mine. “You’re involved with Ronan Cole. There’s nowhere you could run or hide that he wouldn’t find you. He’d hunt you for sport.”

  I ask the question I really want to ask, the question that is like an alarm in the back of my mind. Burying Gabriella has given me closure, but it’s also made me realize what I want. “Will you go back to New York…eventually?”

  A small smile pulls at the corners of his lips. “Would you like me to?”

  “Sasha.”

  “Malyshka.”

  I shove to my feet, gripping the front of his shirt. “I need to know,” I say seriously.

  “Why?”

  “Because I need to know…if the one person I have left is going to leave me,” I breathe.

  His hands glide around my waist, and he spreads his legs, tugging me between them. Those hypnotic eyes trail over my face in a way that makes my cheeks heat. His lips brush the corner of my mouth before skating over my jaw, whispering over the side of my neck. Goose bumps flush my skin, a shiver working down my spine. “Malyshka, after all we’ve survived, you think I would abandon you?”

  I grab his face in both hands, fighting through the fog of lust to make him look at me. “I don’t want your pity.”

  He kisses me, his lips so gentle, so soft. “I don’t pity you.” Another kiss. “I love you.”

  “Always?”

  His lips twitch. “Always.”

  I smile, so relieved to hear that one word. “You’re the only good thing I have left.” I touch my forehead to his, touching my fingers to his lips. “Make me forget everything that isn’t this, Sasha.” I kiss him, my hand slipping beneath his shirt, nails raking over his stomach.

  He’s hesitant as his palm slides from my waist to my back before he slowly lowers the zip of my dress. The sensuous trail of his rough fingertips over my spine has me bowing toward him like an addict looking for a fix. His lips hit my neck, teasing kisses making me dizzy with lust.

  Alcohol trickles through my veins, heightening my senses. I fall into him, choosing the oblivion I know he can provide.

  “You’ve gotten better at this,” I mumble.

  He laughs as he turns, laying me on the desk. Fingers trail along the inside of my thigh, a sexy smile I’ve never seen before appearing on his face. “I was innocent when you first took advantage of me,” he says.

  “Innocent?” I lift a brow at him. “Not a word I would use to describe you.”

  He shreds the top of my dress, tearing the material away from my body until it pools at my waist. Cool air caresses my breasts, and my breaths hitch unevenly as he places lazy, lulling kisses over my body. Those fingers linger on the inside of my thigh before pressing between my legs.

  I want him. All of him. Mind, body, soul. I want his love. I need his possession. I sit up, yanking at his clothing, raking my nails over bare, scarred skin. When he finally slips into me, it’s like coming home, truly home, absolute belonging and acceptance.

  He makes me feel whole when I’m otherwise so fractured. Any thought that isn’t him simply ceases to exist. Soft fingertips stroke over my face, lips brushing over mine as he whispers words of love against my skin. I feel so small and fragile beneath him, yet utterly protected. I submit every fiber of myself to him. He forces me back on the desk, hungry eyes watching as he drives into me over and over. I feel like I’m possessed, a puppet on his string. He makes me wild for something I didn’t even know I needed. I want him to crawl inside me and consume everything that I am until I don’t know where I start and he begins.

  “Sasha,” I breathe as my back arches, and my body tightens.

  He keeps going, pulling pleasure from me inch by torturous inch. He grips my jaw, forcing me to look at him as I fall apart. Black spots dot my vision until it feels like my lungs might explode from lack of air.

  As soon as I hear that first feral growl leave his throat, I’m transfixed. Thick muscles coil tightly, abs dipping and rolling with each strained move. His head falls back, the corded sinews of his neck popping out. And then everything relaxes, and a groan slips past his lips. His eyes snap to mine, holding my gaze the entire time. It’s intense and mind-blowing and perfect. He’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

  His forehead touches mine, ragged breaths falling over my face as his chest presses to mine.

  “I love you,” I say between hard breaths, kissing him.

  “Ah, Malyshka.” He smiles against my mouth and strokes his thumb over the back of my neck. “There is no combination of twenty-six letters that could ever describe what you mean to me.”

  It might be wrong to love a man who took my father from me, but circumstance threw us together. Fate nearly tore us apart, and tragedy ultimately brought us here. He’s a monster, but he’s my monster. Neither of us asked for any of this, but I need him. As much loss as I’ve endured, he gives me hope for the future.

  Epilogue

  Two months later

  New York at Christmas is like something out of a fairy tale. I tug my coat tighter around me as my boots crunch over the snow. We pass between two skyscrapers and onto a plaza with the biggest Christmas tree I’ve ever seen. Sasha glares into the crowds of people as though he might kill them all at any moment.

  Rolling my eyes, I take his hand. “Come on, psycho.”

  “This is not safe,” he says.

  “Sasha, what do you think is going to happen?”

  He looks at me blankly as though he could reel off a hundred possibilities right there.

  “I just want to ice skate like I did with my father.” This right here, is one of the fondest memories I have with Gabi and Daddy, ice skating in front of the Rockefeller tree.

  Sasha’s stern glare softens to just mild disapproval. “Emotional manipulation does not work on me,” he says.