Page 21 of Dark Prince

His directness doesn't surprise me. Grigori has always been able to read me like an open book, a skill that's both a blessing and a curse. I hesitate for a moment, contemplating how much I want to share.

Finally, I let out a slow breath. “It's nothing specific, just the usual challenges. Plus, there's Maura. She's adjusting, but I worry about the dangers. And then there's her stepmother, Sharon, lurking around with her own agenda.”

“Yeah, that one's a real pain. Do you want me to get rid of her for you?”

I chuckle, a deep, rumbling sound that fills the small space between us. “Grigori, as much as I appreciate your direct approach to problem-solving, let's hold off on any drastic measures against her for now.”

Grigori's smile doesn't waver; if anything, it grows wider. “Fair enough,” he concedes with a light shrug. His gaze sharpens as he leans back in his chair, observing me with an intensity that feels almost too insightful. “You seem pretty smitten with your new bride.”

I stiffen slightly at his observation, not out of displeasure but because it's a rare thing for me to discuss my feelings, even with someone as close to me as Grigori. I try to deflect, to keep the conversation from veering too far into personal territory. “Smitten? I’m not a lovestruck teenager.”

But he isn't so easily deterred. With a playful, prodding tone, he pushes a bit more. “Come on. It's me you're talking to. You can admit it.”

Caught in the gentle trap of his persistence, I relent, a small sigh escaping me. “All right, yes. I'm surprised myself, but I do like her, more than I thought possible,” I admit, the words feeling strange yet true as they leave my mouth.

Grigori nods, a look of satisfaction settling on his features. “Good to hear. Arranged marriages can be hell on earth. But from what I've seen, yours is shaping up nicely. It's not often something genuine comes out of these deals.”

My demeanor shifts, a shadow passing over my features as I contemplate his words. “There's something else,” I confess. “Maura’s guarded, especially when it comes to more intimate matters. I can't shake the feeling that she sees me as some sort of monster.”

The admission feels like a weight has lifted, yet it lays bare my deepest fears. “I worry that she might run the first chance she gets if I'm not careful.”

Grigori leans forward, his expression turning serious yet supportive. “You're being paranoid,” he counters, a note of certainty in his voice. “From what I've seen, Maura's adjusting and perhaps even starting to like her new life. Give it time.”

But my concerns run deeper, rooted in the darker aspects of my life and the person I've become. “That's just it, Grigori,” I say, my expression turning grim. “All of that is contingent on her not knowing too much, of her not finding out about the real me, the things I've done, the blood on my hands.”

The silence that follows is filled with the unspoken realities of our world, a world of violence and hard choices, a world that Maura—despite her strength and resilience—might never fully accept or understand.

Grigori studies me for a moment, his gaze thoughtful. “Don’t underestimate her. You might be surprised,” he finally says. “Maura's not like the others. She saw a glimpse of who you can become at the wedding when that asshole pointed a gun at her, yet she stuck around. Don't misjudge her—this could end up being everything you’ve ever wanted.”

I know that his words are meant to reassure me, to offer a glimmer of hope in the face of my doubts. Yet the fear remains, a constant companion reminding me that the divide between Lukyan Ivanov, the Bratva commander, and Luk, the man who wants nothing more than to protect and cherish his wife, might be too vast for her ever to truly cross.

Chapter 11

Maura

Wanting to take advantage of the beautiful spring day, I decide to take a walk through the neighborhood with my security detail trailing discreetly behind me. The sun is warm but not overbearing, a gentle breeze rustles through the budding trees, and the clear blue sky stretches endlessly above—it’s the kind of day that breathes life into the city after a long winter. I find myself soaking in every moment, pretending, if only for a while, that I'm just another free soul out enjoying the day.

As I walk, my thoughts inevitably drift to the time I’ve been married to Luk. It's been a whirlwind of social functions and gatherings, each one a stage for me to play the role of the charming wife. Initially, the idea of being thrust into such a role made me bristle—being paraded around as some trophy didn't sit well with me. Yet, as I reflect on those experiences, I'm surprised to find that I kind of liked them.

Navigating these social waters is an art, a subtle dance of words and smiles, and I've found myself enjoying the challenge. The recognition and respect—even if some of it is borrowed from Luk's stature—have their own allure.

It's a far cry from where I thought I'd find happiness, but as I continue my walk, surrounded by the beauty of spring and the quiet presence of my security, I can't help but wonder if maybe this life with Luk could become more than just a role to play. Maybe it’s a life I can learn to love, complexities and all.

My thoughts turn to a different set of memories, ones that cause my cheeks to color with warmth. The times Luk and I have shared in the privacy of our bedroom come to mind, each moment a vivid flash of intense passion, lust, and deep connection. There’s an ease to losing myself in him, a profound surrender that I’ve never experienced before.

My independence has always been a cornerstone of my identity, yet there's something undeniably freeing about letting go, being vulnerable, and trusting him completely in our most intimate moments.

I think about our encounters and the playful exploration of each other's desires, and a shiver runs down my spine. It's a side of me I hadn't fully acknowledged until Luk, a depth of feeling and a capacity for passion that he's skillfully and gently coaxed to the surface. The way he respects my boundaries while simultaneously pushing them has opened a world of sensation I hadn't known I was missing.

I find myself biting my lower lip, a subconscious reaction as I replay those moments in my mind. The streets around me fade into the background as the memory of our closeness engulfs me, the heat between us, and the undeniable bond that is forming with each whispered word and shared breath.

Feeling overwhelmed and needing an escape from the tempest inside, I spontaneously decide to duck into a nearby florist. The moment I step through the door, the sights and smells of the shop envelop me like a comforting embrace. The fragrance of fresh flowers, the vibrant colors of blossoms in every hue imaginable—they all work together to soothe my frazzled nerves.

As I wander through the aisles, admiring the arrangements and the simple beauty of nature captured within the shop, my thoughts drift to what Elena said about the garden. I recall our conversations, her passion for the flowers, and how she’s found peace and solace among nature. Surrounded by the floral scents and the quiet hum of the shop, I suddenly understand what she meant.

While enjoying my moment of tranquility, I am abruptly interrupted by a woman’s voice. “Excuse me,” she says. I look up, my eyes landing on a gorgeous, slender blonde with striking Slavic features. She is dressed in designer clothes from head to toe. There's an air of sophistication about her, yet something in her demeanor suggests a familiarity that's out of place in this setting. I inhale subtly and detect the faintest hint of champagne on her breath.

“Hi there. My name is Laurel,” she introduces herself, her voice smooth and confident.

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