Page 71 of Sin Wager
"What do you think is going on?" His voice carries a warning edge, but I push forward anyway.
"I think you care about me. Not just as a vessel for your child, but as a person. As a woman. And that terrifies you because caring makes you vulnerable."
His hands clench into fists at his sides. "Vulnerability gets you killed in my world."
"Maybe. Or maybe it makes you stronger because you have something worth fighting for." I reach up and cup his face, feeling the rough stubble beneath my palms. "Do you care about me, Misha? Not the pregnancy, not the political implications. Me."
He stares at me for a long moment, and I can see the war being fought behind his eyes. The part of him that wants to retreat into cold calculation battles against something deeper and more human.
"Don't" he warns, but I'm not backing down on this. I need to hear it. It's something I refuse to live without.
"Then I'm leaving. And you can see me in a courtroom if you'd like to get to know your child." I don't even know what I'm doing. It's a threat I can never enforce. He has more money, more power. He could kill me the instant this baby is born, and what would I do then? But my feet stomp toward the door as if I'm ready to make good on my threat, while I'm still frigid and on the verge of hypothermia.
"Yes," he says finally, the word barely above a whisper. "I care." I turn and face him, letting the tension out of my shoulders.
My heart leaps, but I don't let him off that easily. "That's not enough." My arms return to crossing over my chest.
"What do you want from me?" His voice rises, frustration bleeding through his controlled façade. His hands curl into fistsand his face screws up into a dark scowl. "You want me to spill my guts? Confess my feelings like some lovesick boy?"
"I want you to be honest. With me and with yourself." I don't back down despite the fury building in his expression. "You said I belong to you now. What does that mean?"
"It means—" He stops himself, jaw working as he struggles with words that clearly don't come easily.
"It means what, Misha?"
"It means you're mine." The words come out rough and possessive. "It means the thought of losing you makes me want to burn down half of Moscow. It means I've spent weeks trying to figure out how to keep you safe while still being the man my family needs me to be."
Warmth spreads through my chest, but I press for more. "And?"
"And what?" But he knows what I'm asking for. I can see it in the way his eyes search my face. I step closer, enough so that I can reach him. My fingers slide over his wet shirt and feel his heart hammering against my fingertips.
"Say it." My voice goes soft, coaxing rather than demanding. "Say what we both know is true."
His hands come up to cover mine where they rest against his chest. "You're going to push until I say it, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"Even though it changes nothing about your staying here while I handle Sonya?"
"That's negotiable once you're honest with me."
Misha closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, I see surrender there. "I love you," he says, the words seeming to tear themselves from his throat. "I love you, and it's the most dangerous thing I've ever admitted to anyone."
Joy explodes through me. Tears well up faster than I can blink them back. I launch myself into his arms, not caring thatwe're both still damp and cold. He catches me easily, his arms wrapping around my waist as I press my face into the curve of his neck.
"I love you too," I whisper against his skin. "I've loved you for weeks, even when I thought you were playing me, even when Batya told me to be afraid of you."
His arms tighten around me, and I feel him exhale shakily. "This complicates everything."
"No, it simplifies everything." I pull back to look at him. "Now we both have everything to lose, which means we're going to win."
"Vera—"
The office door slams open, making us both jump apart like startled teenagers. His hand is on his gun as I turn to see the cause of the chaos. Rolan stands in the doorway, his face grim and urgent. Behind him, I can see two of Misha's men keeping watch in the hallway.
"Sorry to interrupt," Rolan says, though his tone suggests he's not particularly sorry. "But Sonya just showed up. She's making her rounds to place bets before the races start."
Misha's entire demeanor shifts, the vulnerable man who just confessed his love transforming back into the dangerous strategist. "Where?"
