Page 39 of The Russian's Innocent Prey
A throat cleared behind us, shattering the moment. I’d completely forgotten we had an audience.
Lev exhaled slowly, his hand still wrapped around my waist as he turned us both to face the room. “Anya, this is my brother Trev and my mother Hannah.”
The woman sitting beside the hospital bed had Lev’s strong jawline and the kind of weathered beauty that spoke of years spent loving dangerous men. Her eyes were warm but assessing as she studied my face, probably trying to figure out what kind of woman could make her son look so unguarded.
Trev was unmistakably Lev’s twin, though his blue eyes held a different kind of intensity—less shadow, more steel. He was grinning despite the bandages wrapped around his shoulder.
“So you’re the one who’s got my brother walking into walls,” he said, and I felt heat flood my cheeks.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Sure you don’t.” His grin widened. “Nice blade work, by the way. Clean draw, good concealment.”
Before I could ask how he’d even seen me move, a doctor entered to check on Trev’s bandages. Lev’s hand tightened on my waist.
“We should go,” he said. “Let them work.”
I nodded, still feeling shaky from the adrenaline crash. We said our goodbyes, promising to visit tomorrow, and then we were walking through the sterile hospital corridors toward the parking garage.
The car ride back to the penthouse was suffocating. Heavy silence filled the space between us while Chicago’s lights blurred past the windows. I sat with my hands folded in my lap, stealing glances at Lev’s profile when I thought he wasn’t looking.
But he was always looking. Always watching. Always seeing too much.
My chest tightened with the growing realization that he knew. He’d felt it in that kiss, seen it in the way I’d thrown myself at him, heard it in the way I’d whispered his name like a prayer. There was no hiding anymore, no pretending this was just physical attraction or temporary convenience.
I loved him.
The thought should have terrified me. Should have sent me running back to my safe little world of fabric swatches and business meetings and predictable men who didn’t carry guns or kiss like they were claiming my soul.
Instead, it felt like coming home.
We walked into the penthouse in continued silence, and I tried to slip past him toward the bedroom, needing space to think, to breathe, to figure out how to rebuild my defenses now that they’d been so thoroughly demolished.
But Lev caught my wrist, pulling me back against his chest. His free hand cupped my jaw, tilting my face up to meet his gaze.
“Why?” His voice was low, dangerous. “Why did you put yourself in danger when you heard about the attack?”
I tried to look away, but his grip was gentle but implacable. “I told you. Eleanor said you were hurt. I needed to know—”
“Bullshit.” He stepped closer, crowding me against the wall. “Try again.”
My heart was hammering against my ribs. “I was worried. As your wife, I have certain…obligations—”
“Anya.” His thumb traced my lower lip, and I shivered. “Don’t lie. Not this time.”
The command in his voice, the way he said my name like he owned it, broke something inside me. All my careful excuses, all my rational explanations, crumbled under the weight of his stare.
“I couldn’t breathe,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “When Eleanor said you’d been attacked, I couldn’t breathe. My chest felt like it was caving in, and all I could think was that I might never see you again. Never fight with you or kiss you or watch you try to pretend you don’t feel anything when you look at me.”
His eyes darkened, but I wasn’t finished. The words were pouring out of me now like blood from a wound, messy and honest and impossible to stop.
“I know you think this is just some temporary arrangement. I know you think I’m this sheltered little princess who doesn’t understand your world. But you’re wrong.” Tears were sliding down my cheeks now, and I didn’t care. “I’ve been lying to myself for years, telling myself I hated everything about the Bratva, everything about men like you. But the truth is, I was terrified.”
“Terrified of what?”
“Of this.” I pressed my hand against his chest, feeling his heartbeat race beneath my palm. “Of wanting someone so muchit makes me stupid. Of falling for a man who could disappear tomorrow and take half my soul with him.”
Lev’s hand tightened on my face. “Anya—”
