He stared into the glass as I slipped off the stool and stepped closer, resting my other hand on his stiff shoulder. He didn’t push me away, and that was enough.
Silence stretched between us, humming with what hadn’t been said. He took a sip, his gaze never leaving the amber liquid inside. When it was empty, he set it down gently, fingers lingering on the rim before pulling back. Still, he didn’t look at me.
If it were Carina, we’d be in a tangled embrace, crying ugly and loud until we emptied it all. But this man didn’t even flinch. His stillness built walls. And I didn’t know how to break through without shattering both of us.
His eyes drifted to my hand on his arm. For a moment, I thought he wouldn’t move. But his other hand came over mine, warm and rough. His voice was low, almost distracted.
“You’re cold.”
“I’m okay,” I murmured.
“You can go to bed.” His eyes found mine. “I’m used to things getting ugly.”
My chest tightened. He didn’t say it with bitterness or regret. The pain sat embedded in him like he had stopped expecting anything better.
“I can give you a hug,” I said, unsure if it was the right thing to do but needing to offer something. “That’s all I know.”
His gaze didn’t waver, and his jaw clenched. “I don’t let people see the damage.” There was pain buried deep beneath all that armor. I stayed still. His hand tightened around mine, not painfully, but enough to send a message. “Don’t look at me like that, Alessia. I’m not like you. Go to bed.”
His grip said what his words didn’t. He didn’t want to be alone. He just didn’t know how to ask. He turned his body to me slowly, as if he was handling something fragile. Our gaze didn’t break. I stepped closer, fitting between his legs.
We breathed the same air, our hearts stuttering in some fractured rhythm. His hand moved and rested at the base of my spine. It wasn’t lust or control. It was a need, naked and trembling beneath the surface.
“I don’t know how to do this,” he said.
“This?”
“Let someone see how deep the damage runs.”
His grip tightened. I stayed still and let him take what he needed.
“You don’t have to figure it out,” I said softly. “Let me stay. That’s enough.”
He was unraveling, but fighting it. He wanted to maintain control, but barely managed to do so. I felt it in the way his hands clutched my shirt, in the way his breath staggered too fast, then too slow. A war raged in him, one he tried not to show, but couldn’t hide from me.
When he spoke, his voice was rough and low. “Then stay.”
“I will.” I kissed him slowly and deeply.
He didn’t kiss back, but he didn’t pull away either. When I pulled back, his eyes stayed locked on mine. They were not hungry or possessive. He studied me, seeing this version of me that didn’t run or fear.
“What else?” he asked.
“Hm?” I blinked, but he didn’t repeat himself.
He waited, but I didn’t know what to do, only that my body moved on instinct. I leaned in and wrapped my arms around his shoulders in a hug. He didn’t hug back, but when I tried to pull back, hands clamped around my waist, holding me like letting go would break something he couldn’t fix.
Chapter Thirty-five
Alessia
Rodion’s voice stirred me awake.It wasn’t loud, but something in its tone cut through my sleep.
My hand reached for the space beside me, but it was empty. He had fallen asleep holding me, now, only the sheets remembered him. I pushed myself up, the mattress dipping beneath me as the remnants of sleep slid off like mist.
He sat in the armchair across the room, bare-chested, the glow from his laptop casting pale light over his face. A half-empty glass rested beside him. His voice was low, as he discussed shipments and numbers laced in language I couldn’t decode. His tone was different now.
Anger had hardened into authority. The man I saw breaking last night had vanished. In his place sat the Rodion I knew. His gaze lifted from the laptop and settled on me, lingering longenough to pull a small smile from my lips. He ended the call and set the phone down beside the glass.