Page 2 of Under His Protection

I walk inside, my gaze lingering on the Renaissance piece above the fireplace. The painting chills me, reminding me of my mother. Her canvases were a world of escape, a refuge from the pressures of everyday life. I wonder if this painting is real or another one of Alexander's acquisitions. To him, it's probably just another piece of art, another commodity. To me, it evokes a different kind of memory, a bittersweet reminder of my family.

I put on some Beethoven, the grand chords filling the room. I get lost in the music, letting it wash over me, and stare at Alexander. I could get lost in the intensity of his gaze for hours.

The last sip of champagne fizzles on my tongue, leaving a bittersweet aftertaste. I sink into the velvet sofa, its plush cushions swallowing me whole. My mind writhes and twists, its thoughts a tangled web.

A year has passed since the Veles Network fell, and our lives are still scarred by the chaos—

I sigh, a wave of exhaustion washing over me as Alexander settles beside me on the couch. His dark hair, tousled as if by a phantom wind, falls forward, framing his face. His eyes hold mine with an intensity that makes my pulse quicken.

His fingers trace the curve of my jaw, and a warmth spreads through me, but it's a warmth that shivers with an undercurrent of something colder, something prickly. His touch feels hesitant, almost tentative as if he is studying a map he doesn't fully understand. The scent of his cologne, normally a blend of cedarwood and leather, suddenly seemed sharp and metallic, like the smell of rain mixed with blood.

His lips brush against mine in a tender kiss. The electric jolt that courses through my body when his fingers trace the curve of my collarbone sets me ablaze. I crave him with a raw, primal hunger. He's intoxicating.

I try to relax into his touch, but my body feels stiff and unyielding. My fingers clench into fists, and I grab the fabric of the couch. He must sense my tension because his touch lightens. Then, a shadow crosses his face, a flicker of something—

"Ava," he says and cups my face. "There's something I need you to understand. "I've done things— things I can't take back—"

His voice, a sudden, sharp gust of wind that whips through the quiet, leaves me breathless and yearning for more. I trace the intricate pattern of the Persian rug beneath my feet, the plush pile soft against my bare toes.

"What are you talking about?" I ask. "The Raven? I'm not scared, Alexander."

"Maybe you should be scared." He sighs, "scared of me—scared of the Raven. Ava, I'm a curse you can't escape."

"Alexander? Tell me, what's wrong?"

Why is he talking like this? I shiver and study his worn features.

"It's about my family — we – I haven't told you everything."

His words are like smoke, swirling in my mind, leaving a haze of confusion behind.

The sudden, sharp ring of a phone cuts through the quiet air, jolting me from our moment. Alexander stifles a sigh, his expression hardening as he reaches for his pocket and gets up. He answers, his voice low, barely a murmur.

I listen from a distance, the low hum of his voice blending with the classical music playing in the background. It's a conversation I can't make out, but the tension in his shoulders and the way his jaw clenches as he speaks tells me it's not pleasant. His face pales slightly with a chilling intensity.

"Yes, I'm aware of the delay. The shipment needs to be secured. I need to know they're in place. The artifacts on that cargo ship are coming in today. Make sure everything's ready. Don't fail me this time."

He hangs up, his hand clenching into a fist before he drops it onto the table. He turns to me, his expression softening like the melting of a glacier. But his eyes, those dark pools of ice, hold a flicker of something else— a fleeting shadow that retreats just as quickly as it appeared.

"I'm sorry," he says, his voice softer now, but the tension in his shoulders remains. "That was business. I'm still trying to tie up some loose ends."

My jaw tenses and my nails dig into my palms. I imagine a ship gliding through the expanse of the Atlantic, its containers filled with stolen art. The EverBlue logo, the symbol I designed, now feels like a curse.

Let it go, Ava. You choose this life with him. With the man you love.

I reach out, taking his hand in mine. His skin is warm beneath my touch, and his muscles tense. "I'm here," I whisper, pulling him closer. "You don't have to do this alone."

I sniff his neck, inhaling his scent.

"But I do," he says, his voice low. "No one can harm you, Ava. Not again."

The clock on the mantelpiece seemed frozen in time, a reminder of how much I don't know.

"No one will harm me, Alexander."

His lips press down on mine, hard and demanding. His touch sends jolts to the apex between my legs, making me shiver with delight. His right-hand pushes up my back to meet him as he hovers over me, pressing me down.

For now, there's only the promise of this moment, and I want this man.

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