Page 112 of Imperfect Desires

Lev steps in close, and his grin fades into something more dangerous. More intoxicating. His fingers trail lightly down my arm.

“Alina,” he murmurs, “there are millions sitting quietly in offshore accounts with my name on them. Vaults of cash in cities you’ve never even seen. I own properties under shell names in places you wouldn’t think to look.”

I stare at him, speechless.

His voice is low, nearly a growl. “I’ve made more money in the Bratva than some nations have in their entire GDP. I don’t flash it. I don’t need to. But trust me—this?” He gestures toward theluxurious cabin, the private dock, the glittering lake. “This is nothing.”

I swallow hard, heat flooding my chest.

“I didn’t build wealth to flaunt it,” he says, stepping closer and brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “I built it for protection. Now, I'm glad I have someone to spend it on.”

His hand slides to rest over my belly.

“You’re mine now. Both of you. And I will guard you with everything I have. Money included.”

A breath catches in my throat. At this moment, I believe him- not just about the money, but about everything. His voice holds no arrogance—only quiet certainty. This isn’t about impressing me; it’s about claiming me, securing a future that no enemy, man, or force in this world could tear apart.

I lean into his chest, overwhelmed in the best way.

“I love you,” I whisper.

He presses a kiss to the top of my head. “And I love you,moya lyubov.”

We stand there for a long moment in the golden afternoon, the lake shimmering behind us, the trees swaying above, the cabin glowing like something conjured from a dream.

And deep down… I know I’ll remember this moment for the rest of my life.

The cabin feels like something out of a dream. The kind you don’t want to wake up from.

Lev gives me the tour slowly, letting me soak in every detail. The glass walls catch the soft afternoon light like crystal. The furniture is minimal but luxurious—rich leather, raw wood, thick-knit blankets. It smells like cedar and clean linen and safety.

The kind of safety that only exists in Lev’s presence.

We pass a stone fireplace and a dining table already set with wine glasses, even though it’s only mid-afternoon. In the kitchen, there’s a platter of cheeses, berries, and dark chocolate—my favorite kind.

I glance at him. “You stocked the place?”

He shrugs, lips twitching. “I don’t like surprises. Unless I’m giving them.” He winks. “And oh, don’t worry. The wine is non-alcoholic and safe for you to drink.”

God, the things he says. I wonder if he even knows the effect he has when he gets like this—loving, thoughtful, watchful, and just a little smug.

We spend the afternoon lazily. He cooks lunch—barefoot and shirtless, the scar on his shoulder stark against his skin like a badge of who he’s had to become. The tattoos on his skin ripple as he works. I sit at the kitchen island, watching him flip a pan of vegetables like he’s done it a thousand times, like he's not one of the most dangerous men alive.

“You’re full of surprises, Ivanov,” I say, popping a strawberry into my mouth.

“You’ve seen nothing yet,” he replies without looking up.

His tone is casual, but there’s steel under it. Always. Even in moments like this.

Later, we dine outside on the deck overlooking the lake. I curl up on the cushioned bench beside him, and for a while, we don’t talk. We simply exist. I hear the wind rustling through the trees and the gentle slap of water against the dock. I realize this is the first time in months I’ve truly allowed myself to relax.

After lunch, we nap in the oversized hammock under the trees. I rest against his chest, lulled by the steady sound of his heartbeat, and drift somewhere between sleep and peace.

When I wake, the sun is beginning to slip down the sky.

We’re back on the deck now, wrapped in one of the heavy blankets he pulled from a linen closet. I sit between his legs, leaning into him, his arms banded around me like armor.

The lake shimmers in gold, and the sky blushes with violet. It’s a beauty that feels almost fragile.

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