Page 9 of Between Power and Passion

Throwing caution to the wind, I close the distance between us in two long strides. Before she can react, I scoop her up bridal style. She lets out a yelp of surprise, but she doesn't fight. I carry Valentina down the stairs. When I reach the basement, I stride over to the bed and unceremoniously dump her onto it. She lands with a huff. I loom over her, fists clenched at my sides as I struggle to rein in my temper.

"What the hell did you think you were doing?" I roar, inches from her face. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?"

She meets my heated glare with fiery defiance blazing in those emerald depths. She straightens her spine and lifts her chin in a display of sheer stubbornness.

"My men are under strict orders," I growl through gritted teeth. "They'll shoot you or anything they can't recognize on sight."

Her eyes blaze with fury. She knows I'm serious and that my threat is real, but her pride won't let her back down.

I let out a frustrated growl, rake my hands through my hair, and turn away from her. I pace the length of the small room.

When I face her again, some of the fire has left my eyes, replaced by a simmering intensity. "Were you hurt? Did one of my men do this to you?" I ask, nodding toward the gash on her arm.

She hesitates, assessing me carefully before giving a small shake of her head.

My gaze drifts back to the bloody gash marring her otherwise flawless skin. "I'll have one of the guards bring the first aid kit to treat that wound," I say in a tone gentler than before.

Her eyes narrow slightly at my offer. "Why can't you do it yourself?"

I blink, caught off guard by her question. A derisive scoff escapes my lips before I can stop it. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm not playing nursemaid."

The words come out harsher than I intended, but a part of me relishes the sting they bring to her eyes. I turn on my heel and stride from the room, my heart thundering in my chest.

As soon as I'm out of her sight, I lean back against the wall, squeezing my eyes shut.

Fuck! Fuck!! Fuck!!! It's been ten hellish years, Dmitri, and you can't get a fucking grip?

I can't afford any more slip-ups like this. But even as the thought forms, an image of her expression flashes behind my lids.

I push off from the wall and make my way toward the supply closet at the end of the hall. The first aid kit is tucked away on the top shelf, gathering dust from disuse. I grab it and head back.

When I re-enter the basement room, Valentina's gaze instantly snaps to me. Her eyes widen almost imperceptibly at the sight of the med kit in my hands.

I approach slowly, as one would a wounded animal, and kneel before her without a word. Carefully, I pry the kit open and begin removing the supplies I'll need: antiseptic wipes, gauze, medical tape.

Valentina watches my movements in tense silence. I can practically feel the weight of her eyes boring into me. Gently, I take her arm and dab at the gash with an antiseptic wipe. She sucks in a sharp breath through her nose but doesn't flinch away.

"This might sting," I murmur, more to myself than her.

I flinch as Valentina's other hand unexpectedly touches my face, her fingers tracing the lines of my cheek with a featherlight caress. My heart stutters at the tender gesture, a stark contrast to the callous treatment I've shown her thus far.

Confusion clouds her emerald eyes as they search my face, glistening with unshed tears. "I... I thought you were dead," she whispers, her voice thick with emotion.

The rawness in her tone sends a pang straight through my chest. I open my mouth, but no words come out. What can I possibly say to her in this moment? How can I explain the hell I've endured, the lengths I've gone to for vengeance against her father?

Valentina seems to read the turmoil in my eyes. With a choked sob, she suddenly leans forward and wraps her arms around me, burying her face in the crook of my neck as she cries in earnest.

I freeze, my entire body going rigid at the unexpected embrace. Every instinct screams at me to pull away, to push her back and re-establish the distance between us. But I can't bring myself to do it. Instead, I remain utterly still, allowing her to cling to me as sobs wrack her slender frame. The scent of her hair, that same intoxicating blend of roses and vanilla from so long ago, overwhelms my senses.

Slowly, tentatively, I raise my hands to rest on her back. The simple act feels impossibly intimate after everything that's transpired between us. I can feel the warmth of her body seeping through the thin fabric of her shirt, the steady rise and fall of her breathing against me.

Valentina doesn't pull away, her tears soaking through the shoulder of my shirt as she clings to me with a desperation I've never witnessed from her before. I should push her back, remove myself from this compromising position before it goes too far.

But I can't, not when she's so vulnerable, so distraught, not when the feel of her in my arms is so achingly familiar, stirring up memories and emotions I thought I'd long buried.

Chapter 5 - Valentina

9 years ago

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