Page 66 of His Hold

“Speaking of which,” he says, voice dropping. “Your sister—” Pain flashes across his face. “Katya...”

My stomach drops. “No. Don’t you dare.”

“I tried everything.” His voice rasps. “But she...”

The door bursts open. And there she is.

“Surprise!” Irina grins, eyes sparkling with mischief.

I freeze, staring at my sister’s face. She looks exactly the same yet completely different – harder edges, sharper smile.

“Irina?” My voice cracks, my body moving before my brain can catch up. I throw myself at her, my arms wrapping around her shoulders. She clings to me just as tightly, her familiar perfume enveloping me as we cling to each other. But alive. Beautifully, impossibly alive.

“You absolute bastard,” I breathe, whirling on Nikolai. His smirk tells me he planned this all along.

“I missed you so much, little sister.”

“I thought—” My words break. “I thought you were dead.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll explain everything.”

“They told me you were gone, too,” she sobs. “I couldn’t find you. I tried, but—”

“You’re here now. You’re here.”

Nikolai rises silently, heading for the door. I catch his arm, careful to avoid the cut. “I’ll give you two a minute.”

I turn to him, still holding Irina. “Wait.”

He arches a brow. “What?”

“Thank you,” I say, the words awkward and stilted. “For…for finding her. For bringing her here.”

“Don’t get all sentimental on me. You’ll ruin my reputation.”

I can’t help but laugh, the sound tangled with tears. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re annoying,” he says. But there’s a softness to his voice, something almost affectionate. “I’ve got to go into the office, but I’ll be back later.”

He cups my face, kissing me with an intensity that steals my breath. “Make it up to me later. I have meetings, but I will be home tonight.”

Another searing kiss and he’s gone, leaving me torn between running after him and staying with my sister. Irina’s knowing smile decides for me.

“So.” She perches on the bed. “Tell me everything about you and the scary Russian.”

“He’s impossible,” I mutter, shaking my head as Irina and I settle onto the couch. “Half the time I don’t even know what he’s thinking.”

“Yeah, you don’t need to. The way he looks at you is enough to tell you how crazy he is about you. I’m glad you found that, Katya.”

Irina and I spend hours talking, laughing, and crying. Everything’s a blur, like we’re trying to shove years of separation into one night. She tells me about the jobs, the debts, the people she had to cross just to stay alive. Her eyes dart around the room like she expects someone to burst in and rip her away from me again.

The weight I’ve carried since she disappeared finally lifts. But my thoughts keep drifting to Nikolai – his hidden gentleness, the way he gave me back my sister, how completely he’s worked his way under my skin.

Nikolai never said anything about how he did it. Just showed up like it was nothing, blood-slicked and exhausted.

The rest of the week, when I’m not with Irina, I’m watching Nikolai. Making sure his wounds aren’t festering. Cleaning the cuts he’s too stubborn to bother with himself. He grumbles about it, but never pulls away. Sometimes I catch him looking at me like he’s trying to figure me out.

Days pass, blurring together. I spend most of my time with Irina, trying to make up for lost years. But my mind keeps drifting to him.

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