Page 76 of Inked Adonis

Maybe because in the weeks I’ve known him, Samuil Litvinov has never lied to me. He’s hidden things, yes. Kept secrets that could fill Lake Michigan. But he’s never made promises he couldn’t keep.

It’s more than I can say for the laws my father swore to uphold, or the justice system that was supposed to protect people like me.

“Be careful,” I whisper.

Sam’s lips twist. “Always am, little fighter.” He brushes a kiss across my forehead that feels like a brand. “Try not to stage any revolutions while I’m gone.”

Then he’s striding toward the door, already barking orders into his phone, leaving me with an anxious dog and the sinking feeling that I’m falling for exactly the kind of man I should be running from.

But maybe that’s the thing about falling: by the time you realize it’s happening, it’s already too late to stop.

26

SAMUIL

Victory tastes like blood and smells like bullshit.

I lean against my office window, watching the Chicago skyline blur into twilight while I replay every detail of yesterday’s shelter visit in my head.

Each moment had been orchestrated, every reaction cataloged and analyzed. The way Nova’s shoulders tensed when she spotted Martinez outside. The way her breath hitched, her pupils dilated with pure, unfiltered terror at the sight of her father’s old drinking buddy.

You can’t fake that kind of visceral fear response. I’ve seen enough people try.

But it was Nova’s interaction with Susan, the shelter director, that sealed it. The genuine respect in Susan’s eyes when she greeted Nova. The easy familiarity as Nova walked around, rattling off the names and histories of every damaged creature in the place. The way her entire being lit up when she talked about rehabilitation success stories.

You can’t fake that kind of authenticity, either. Not even Katerina, master manipulator that she is, could pull off that level of genuine connection.

My fingers trace the cold glass, remembering the warmth of Nova’s small hand in mine as we toured the facility. She’d been so focused on the animals that she hadn’t noticed the calculated nature of our visit. Hadn’t realized that every moment was a test she was passing with flying colors.

She aced it.

My test is yet to come.

Because now that I know Nova isn’t playing me, I have to decide what the fuck to do with her. And the possessive hunger clawing at my insides suggests I’m already in deeper than I should be.

It’s not as if I don’t have plenty else that demands my attention. I should be handling the Andropov shitstorm right now. Three of my best men are down, their bodies cooling in Moscow morgues while Ilya slithers through Chicago’s underbelly like the snake he is.

Instead, I’m standing in my bedroom doorway like a lovesick teenager, watching Nova sleep.

She’s curled around my pillow, her dark hair spilling across the white cotton like spilled ink. Finally peaceful after hours of nervous pacing. It took hours, but eventually, once the vet left after bringing her to the penthouse, Ruby settled in at Nova’s feet. Not quite touching—not quite ready for that—but closer and calmer than either of them truly have a right to be.

Rufus lies between them. Protecting one, the other, or both—it’s impossible to tell for sure.

The sight does something to my chest that I refuse to examine too closely. Something that makes me want to crawl in beside her, wrap myself around her small frame, and tell the rest of the world to go fuck itself.

Dangerous thoughts for a man in my position.

My phone vibrates again. I don’t have to check to know what it says. Another body found. Another message that needs immediate attention. Another reminder that I don’t get to have normal things like watching a beautiful woman sleep in my bed.

Not so long as my fucking brother still draws breath.

But I can’t make myself move. Can’t tear my eyes away from the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the slight part of her lips, the way her fingers clutch my pillow like it’s an anchor in a storm.

Christ. I’m so utterly, completely fucked.

A soft sound escapes her throat and her eyelashes flutter. I brace myself for what comes next, knowing the peace of this moment is about to shatter like everything else in my life.

Those golden-brown eyes find me in the darkness, and the softness in them turns to iron.

---