Page 179 of Filthy Lies

“Because monsters need love, too,” she says. “And no one loves like we do.”

I kiss her then, hard and possessive, not giving a fuck who sees. Let them watch. Let them see.

We have nothing to hide anymore.

When we break apart, I see Carver watching us from inside. He raises his glass in a mock toast before disappearing back into the crowd.

“He’s up to something,” Rowan murmurs against my chest.

“He’s always up to something.” I run my hand down her spine. “But not even he can take this away from us. Not now.”

Hours later, when the last guest has departed and our children are asleep in the presidential suite under the watchful eye of their godparents, I find Rowan in our private villa, standing on the terrace that overlooks the bay for which we named the resort.

She’s stripped down to nothing but moonlight and shadows, her naked back to me as she stares out at the water. I pause in the doorway to drink in the sight of her.

Mine.Still mine, after everything.

“They’ll never stop watching us, will they?” she asks without turning. She knows my footsteps, my breathing, my presence like her own heartbeat.

“No.” I don’t sugarcoat it. Never have, never will. “But they’ll find nothing to see.”

“Nothing they can prove, you mean.” She faces me then, gloriously nude and unashamed. “What did Carver really want today?”

I cross to her, still fully dressed in contrast to her nakedness. The power dynamic should be in my favor, yet she’s never looked more in control. I reach for the buttons of my shirt.

“He wants to extend the monitoring period,” I say. “Another five years.”

Her eyes flash. “On what grounds?”

“New intelligence suggesting ties between our shipping operations and the Ozerov Bratva.” I step out of my pants, leaving them pooled on the floor. “It’s bullshit, of course. A fishing expedition.”

“Can he do that? Legally?”

“There’s legal, and then there’s federal.” I’m naked now, too, my cock already hardening at the proximity to her. “They can do whatever the fuck they want if they sell it right.”

Her hand finds my cheek and combs through my beard. “Then we’ll fight it. Together. Like we’ve fought everything else.”

I capture her wrist so I can press my lips to her pulse point. “Tomorrow. Tonight, I want to christen every goddamn surface of this place.”

She laughs, the sound like broken glass and honey. “Where do we start?”

I lift her by the waist, setting her on the balcony rail. The sixty-foot drop to the rocks below doesn’t faze her. Nothing does anymore.

“Right here,” I growl. “Where anyone could see you. Where anyone could witness that you belong to me, and I to you.”

Her legs wrap around my waist, drawing me to her center. She’s already wet, already eager, already mine.

“I’m all yours, Mr. Akopov.”

Five years, and still my cock responds to her like it’s the first fucking time. Like I haven’t been inside her thousands of times before. Like she hasn’t birthed two of my children, carried myname, worn my ring, held my bloodied hands when they needed cleaning.

Her body gleams in the moonlight, soft curves begging to be carved up by my hard edges. My cock is rigid against my stomach.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispers as she taps my chin.

“Beautiful?” I laugh. “What I’m about to do to you is many things, but beautiful isn’t one of them.”

Her pupils dilate, swallowing the green until only a thin slice of it is left dancing around the edges. But she swallows and arches a brow. “Prove it.”

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