Page 135 of Crimson Flames

“What are you staring at, my little fox?”

A soft smile stretches over her lips as she looks back at me. She is wearing a pair of my boxers and an oversized hoodie. I do not know when it happened, but my clothes now seem to be what she prefers to wear to bed.

“Do you ever look out across the skyline and imagine how many people there are? How they all have their own lives, their own worries, fears, dreams, and wishes?”

I try to keep the shock out of my expression, because no, I do not think about that. It is already enough to have my own thoughts, but picturing someone else’s, not to mention a few thousand someone else’s, seems vastly overwhelming.

Apparently, I fail at hiding my thoughts because she laughs when she glances back at me.

“Try not to look like I just said the most insane thing you’ve ever heard,” she taunts.

Grinning, I stand and walk over to her. “That is just a lot to think about, that is all.”

She nods her head, scanning the building next to us.

“It is, but if I can let myself get lost in the problems and aspirations of others, I don’t feel as trapped in my own life.”

“Do you feel trapped here?”

“Sometimes.”

I feel as if I were just hit by a truck. I have done everything in my power to give her everything she could need here. Why would she feel trapped?

A sigh leaves her lips before she sets her cup of tea down on the table beside her. My hand rests on her shoulder, hers coming up to squeeze my fingers.

“Not in the way you’re thinking though. I feel trapped in my mind. No matter where I am. Memories of my past haunt me day after day, and fear for the future has me on edge often. Staring out here, seeing all of the lives that continue to go on despite all of the shite taking place around them, helps me feel less trapped.”

I squeeze her shoulder as her head falls to my torso. We have grown close over the past few weeks, and I care for her greatly, but when I try to move forward with her, the sight of her bleeding in my arms assaults me.

It makes me feel like I could never truly keep her safe.

Then, I look down at her body, how relaxed she is in my presence and the peace I bring to her. With things beginning to change around us, maybe I need to change too.

“Build a home with me?” The question shocks even me as the words slip past my lips, but I do not take them back. When Nessa looks into my eyes, I can see her yearning for a home, for stability, for a family.

“The estate is too large, and I want a place that feels like a home. Build it with me.”

She laughs while shaking her head. “Boris, that is a big step. With everything going on, I’m not sure we are ready for that. What if you change your mind next week and want me out of your way?”

I glance back at my office, the twin desk sitting next to mine with sticky notes all over it. She has taken over my life in more ways than she knows. This is the next logical step.

“You have never been in my way,Lisichka. You have always been by my side.” I kneel next to her, taking one of her hands in mine. “Build a home with me, a life just for the two of us. Together.”

She stares at me for a minute before her eyes dart around the room in contemplation. When they land on me again, her lips lift. “I get to pick the paint colors.”

Leaning in, I steal a kiss from her to seal the deal. Nessa has been my light in the dark for a while now, and I want to be the same to her.

I will help her build the house she has always dreamed of, and we will fill it with love. It will be ours and only ours. Our lips part, and foreheads press against each other.

“Together,” I say, threading my fingers with hers as I pull her close.

“Together,” she whispers against my lips.

“Come with me,” I say, taking her hand and leading her through the door to the apartment connected to the office. It was the first place we shared together. We sat at the kitchen table for our first meal under one roof where I tried to trick her into thinking I knew how to make gourmet Russian dishes.

She called me out right away, and we laughed when she found the boxes of the precooked meal in the trash.

It was the same place we drafted our house plans, building each room to our liking while learning and understanding each other’s styles. There were many disagreements, but with the right moves, we always seemed to find a compromise.

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