Chapter 15 It's been a week since our shipment was hit. I've done everything I can to keep my men steady, without overreacting and feeding the chaos. I've added more guards, tightened security, and made sure my best men keep their eyes and ears peeled. I've doubled the manpower at the docks, reassigned two of my best men to scout the routes, and installed encryption on every internal channel. Still, it doesn't feel like enough. Every night, I brace for another call-or for Sasha to barge in-to report another loss. But I'm not retaliating. Not yet. I'd love to hit Semion where it hurts, but he hasn't taken credit, and I'm not about to start a war on a hunch. Still, the urge to strike festers beneath my skin, and I know it's only a matter of time before I either hit back or bleed. Every instinct tells me Semion was behind the ambush. No one else would be so calculated, so bold. No one else would put one of my men in a body bag just to send a message. He's always wanted a war with me. But he isn't going to get one until I have leverage. So I've been waiting and watching. I've called in favors from old contacts and offered bonuses to anyone who could get me eyes on Semion's crew. So far, nothing concrete has come through. No one's heard any useful information, just whispers and rumors that are so far unsubstantiated. And through it all, I haven't had a single moment to see Nicole. I've been keeping my distance from her deliberately. At first, it was because I didn't want her anywhere near this mess. The Bratva may be my blood and my legacy, but she has nothing to do with that world, and I want to keep it that way. But the longer I stay away, the harder it gets. I can't stop thinking about her. She haunts me day and night, and the brief interactions we do have aren't enough. Ever since our almost-kiss under the moonlight that was so cruelly interrupted, I've wanted nothing more than to go to her room and pick up where we left off. But every time I've gone to knock on her door, I've stopped myself. The last thing I want to do is pull her closer and risk being distracted from my enemies. Yet here I am, halfway down the hall, juggling numbers in my head when the front door creaks open. I stop short. When I glance toward the entrance, she's just stepping inside. She brushes a hand through her hair as she closes the door behind her, her movements casual, but her eyes scan the hallway like she is searching for something. Is she looking for me the same way I always find myself looking for her? I step toward her, making my presence known. "Out enjoying the afternoon?" She startles slightly at the sound of my voice, then smiles, soft, polite, warm. "I was. I actually just popped over to see my parents. They're not far from here." She offers nothing more, and I don't press. I could, but I want her to feel comfortable here. She's my employee; she can come and go as she pleases when she's off duty. "Can I walk you back to your room?" I ask, feeling slightly off-kilter. She hesitates only a moment before falling into step beside me, our shoulders almost touching as we move down the corridor. I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. She looks relaxed but tired. In fact, she's looked that way often since she moved in. At first I chalked it up to lingering stress from her old job, but I can't shake the sense she's hiding something. We reach her wing of the house, and I stop outside her door. She reaches for the handle, then pauses and turns to face me. "I hope everything was okay while I was out," she says. "Everything was fine," I say. "Mom's resting, and Sasha's been checking on her. But it's a lot quieter here when you're gone." Her eyebrows lift, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. "Is that your way of saying you missed me?" I smirk. "Would it work if I said yes?" She laughs, and I swear it's the best sound I've heard all week. My gaze drops to her mouth, the lush curve of her lips and the way they part when she laughs. A faint blush blooms across her cheeks, and I burn the image into my mind for later. "Tell me something," I say, keeping my voice low. "And be honest. How do you really like living here?" She shifts on her feet, as if she's weighing her options. Maybe she doesn't want to tell me the truth. Maybe she's unhappy here. I hold my breath as I wait for her answer. "Living here is amazing," she gushes, and I can tell she's not just being nice. "I've enjoyed it so far, and I'm really happy I've already been able to help Liliya so much." I step closer, shrinking the space between us. "Is that all you're happy about?" She blinks, glances away, then meets my gaze again. Her voice dips, almost shy. "Well, it's been nice seeing you again," she whispers, and every nerve sparks to life. Her blush deepens, spreading down her neck. I let my gaze linger on the pink hue warming her skin, knowing she feels this as much as I do. My hand moves without thinking, reaching up to brush a loose strand of hair from her face. My fingers trail down the side of her cheek, a soft caress that makes her breath hitch. Her skin is warm beneath my touch, and I can feel the faintest tremble in her jaw. She stares up at me, eyes wide and searching. "Are you going to kiss me?" she asks boldly, no trace of embarrassment in her voice. I study her for a long second, letting the silence stretch between us. "Do you want me to?" She nods once. "Yes," she breathes. I close the distance between us, lowering my mouth to hers in a kiss that starts slowly but turns fierce quickly. Her lips part for me and that soft, warm, welcoming familiarity engulfs me. I press her to the door, one hand cradling her cheek while the other claims her waist. She tastes sweet, like something rare and intoxicating I've denied myself for far too long. She fists the front of my shirt, anchoring herself while hauling me closer. She isn't passive or hesitant. She kisses me back with the same hunger I have for her. My body reacts instantly. Every muscle tightens, every nerve fires. Days of pent-up tension crash into me at once. Her mouth is both sin and salvation, and I don't know how I've gone so long without it. I break the kiss slowly, reluctantly, and rest my forehead against hers. Her breath fans across my skin, shaky and fast. "Nicole," I murmur, brushing my thumb across her lower lip. "You make it very hard to behave." She lets out a soft laugh, breathy and nervous. "Maybe I don't want you to behave." I lean in and press another kiss to the corner of her mouth. "You need to be careful saying things like that to me." "Why?" she whispers, challenge sparking in her tone. "What happens if I'm not careful?" "I'll stop pretending I can keep my hands to myself." "I never asked you to," she says, tugging me against her and into her room. In a romance-themed observation show, several participants undergo a series of interactions and conflicts filled with love, misunderstandings, and power struggles. In the end, one couple rises to over...