Page 53 of The Enforcer's Vow
"But you knew." His voice is flat, stating facts rather than asking a question.
I sit up too fast, and pain shoots through my chest, making me wince. And for a second I see him tense, like he wants to reach for me. But he doesn’t. "It wasn't your business."
"It became my business the second you climbed into my bed."
The bluntness of his statement makes me flinch. "Is that what you think this is? Some kind of transaction?"
"Isn't it?" He stands abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. "You kept coming back because you wanted something from me. You lied to me about who you are, Zoya."
"I never lied about who I was," I snap back, my voice gaining strength. "And yes, I wanted my brother safe, but..."
"Everything else was part of the game." His jaw is tight, the muscle jumping beneath his skin. "You played your part perfectly. The quiet woman who needed protection, who melted under my touch. Was any of it real?"
The accusation cuts deep because there's truth in it. I did approach him under false pretenses. I did let him believe I was someone else. But the way he's looking at me now, as if I'm a stranger, as if the nights we spent together meant nothing—it makes rage bloom hot in my chest.
"You want to talk about games?" I swing my legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the way the room tilts slightly. "You were assigned to me, weren't you? Getting close to me was your job."
He doesn't deny it, which is answer enough.
"So don't act like I'm the only one who was playing a part," I continue, my voice rising. "You were using me to get to Damir from the beginning. Every conversation, every touch, every time you made me feel safe—it was all part of your mission."
"You're right." His admission is quiet, deadly. "It was. Until it wasn't."
"When?" The question tears out of me before I can stop it. "When did it change for you? When did I stop being a mark?"
He's quiet for a long moment, his hands clenched at his sides, but he doesn't answer me. He deflects. "And you?" he asks. "When did I stop being a means to an end?"
I think about the moment I realized I was falling for him, the slow recognition that what started as necessity had become need. But admitting it now feels like handing him a weapon.
"I don't know," I lie.
His expression hardens. "You don't know, or you don't want to tell me?"
"Does it matter?" I'm standing now, though my legs feel unsteady. "You just told me I was a mark. A job. So what difference does it make what I felt?"
"You were a mark," he says, stepping closer. "But you were also the woman who made me feel something other than rage. The one who was just challenging enough to piss me off and soft enough to let me see her. Who looked at me like I was more than a weapon."
His words are raw, unguarded in a way that makes my chest tight. But I can't let myself soften, not now.
"And you were the man who made me feel safe," I say, my voice shaking. "Who held me when I had nightmares. Who made me believe that maybe, for once, someone wanted me for more than what I could do for them."
"I did want you for more than that."
"Did you?" I move closer, close enough to see how narrow his pupils are getting. "Or did you just want me compliant? Easier to control?"
"You were never easy to control." There's something almost like admiration in his voice.
"But you tried anyway. The marriage, the constant watching, the way you made decisions about my life without asking me?—"
"I was trying to protect you."
"From what? From making my own choices?"
"From getting killed." His voice rises, the first crack in his composure. "From ending up like your brother's other loose ends."
The mention of Damir brings fresh pain, but I push through it. "And now? Now that you know about the baby, what am I? Still a mark? Still a job?"
He doesn't answer immediately, and in that hesitation, I see everything I need to know. The baby changes the equation for him. It makes me more valuable, more necessary to protect. But it doesn't make me more wanted.
