Page 13 of Imperfect Desires

5

Alina

One Year Later

It’s been a year since I last saw Viktor and Lev, too.

A year of torturous nights, of lying awake in bed thinking about him. A year of remembering the sound of his laugh, the way his green eyes sharpen when he’s focused, the roughness of his hand when he steadied me from falling.

I thought time would dull the ache. I thought distance would help me forget, but it hasn’t.

If anything, the ache has only sharpened to an almost physical pain, and it is a wonder I haven’t lost my virginity from slipping my fingers into my pussy while imagining it is Lev.

Now I’m back in New York, and it feels like fate is pressing down on me. Like I’m standing at the edge of a precipice. In a few days, I’ll be leaving for London, and if I don’t take my chance—if I don’t seize the opportunity—I know I’ll regret it.

I have to make him see me.

Not as Viktor’s sister. Not as a child. But as a woman.

I’m curled up in one of the oversized leather chairs in the house library, my legs tucked beneath me, an old book on ancient civilizations balanced in my lap. The room is dimly lit, the flicker of soft golden light casting shadows along the dark wood paneling.

I’m trying to read, but I’m not absorbing a single word. My mind is too restless. My heart is pounding too hard beneath my skin as I think how best to approach Lev.

And then the door creaks open. I glance up—and my breath catches in a painful, silent gasp.

It’s Lev, standing in the doorway. He’s wearing a fitted dark shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The first two buttons are undone, giving me a delicious peek at his chest. His hair is slightly rumpled, like he’s been running his hand through it.He looks effortlessly lethal, his green eyes cutting toward me beneath the low light.

“I didn’t realize anyone was in here,” he says. His voice is low and rough around the edges.

My pulse jumps. “It’s fine.”

Lev’s gaze slides over the room, assessing. Calculating. His eyes linger on the shelves before drifting back toward me.

“I was looking for the private study,” he says. His mouth tilts faintly at the corner. “Guess I took a wrong turn.”

My heart is racing. I should let him leave—I know I should—but I may not have another opportunity to be alone with him again.

Seize this opportunity, Alina.

“The hall is two doors down,” I say instead.

Lev’s mouth curves faintly as he steps farther into the room. My heart slams painfully beneath my chest as he crosses toward me.

“What are you reading?” he asks.

I glance down at the book in my lap. “Ancient civilizations.”

Lev raises an eyebrow. He steps closer. His gaze drops toward the open page. “Mesopotamia?”

I nod. “It’s fascinating.

“Mesopotamia,” he says, his voice thoughtful.

I lift my chin slightly. “You know about it?”

“A little.” His mouth tilts. “Oldest known civilization. Invented writing, right?”

I raise my brow. “I’m impressed. Mafia men are generally not bookworms.”

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