Page 39 of Hostage of the Russian
That earned him a small laugh, the first genuine laugh he’d heard from her, and the sound went straight to his chest like a physical warmth.
“There’s this little Italian place near campus,” she said. “Nothing fancy, but they have the best tiramisu I’ve ever tasted. I used to go there when I was studying for finals, back when I thought... when I thought my biggest worry was passing organic chemistry.”
The wistfulness in her voice made something clench in his stomach. Before he crashed into her life, her biggest concerns had been grades, graduation, and building a future. Now she was married to a Russian crime boss and constantly looking over her shoulder for enemies she’d never asked for.
“Then that’s where we’ll go,” he said. “Lead the way, Mrs. Nikolai.”
Something flickered across her face when he used his surname, their surname, but she didn’t correct him. Instead,she linked her arm through his, the simple gesture sending electricity up his entire side.
“Just promise me something,” she said as they began walking toward the campus exit.
“Name it.”
“No guns in the restaurant. I just want to eat tiramisu and pretend we’re normal people for an hour.”
Kostya thought about the Glock tucked against his ribs, about Dmitri and Pavel trailing them at a discreet distance, about the very real possibility that someone might try to put a bullet in him before they made it to dessert. Then he looked down at Azriel’s upturned face, at the hope and vulnerability written there, and knew he’d promise her anything.
“No guns,” he agreed. “Just tiramisu and normal conversation.”
“Good.” She squeezed his arm, and for the first time since that night at the party, Kostya felt like maybe, just maybe, they might find their way back to each other.
As they walked across campus together, Kostya couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a turning point. Not just for them, but for something bigger. The information Adrian had uncovered, along with Danny’s sudden disappearance and the increased activity from rival groups, all pointed to changes coming, challenges that would test everything he’d built.
But looking at Azriel, seeing her smile as she talked about her favorite professors and the research project she’d completed on criminal rehabilitation, Kostya realized that whatever came next, he wanted her by his side. Not as payment for her father’s debts, not as a trophy or a means to an end, but as his partner. His equal.
The question was whether she’d ever be able to see him as anything more than the man who’d stolen her life. Today felt like a start, but Kostya knew better than anyone that starts were fragile things, easily broken by the wrong word or the wrong move.
He’d have to be careful. Patient. Everything he’d never been good at being.
But for Azriel, for the woman walking beside him with flowers in her arms and hope in her eyes, he’d learn.
Chapter 14 - Azriel
Azriel had planned to keep her walls firmly in place. The flowers were beautiful, yes, and his presence at her graduation had caught her completely off guard in ways that made her chest tight, but that didn’t change what he was. What he’d done to her. What he represented.
Yet as they sat across from each other in the dimly lit Italian restaurant he’d chosen, she found those carefully constructed barriers beginning to crack.
“You didn’t have to do this,” she said, gesturing to the intimate corner table, the flickering candles, the bottle of wine he’d ordered but barely touched. “The graduation thing was enough.”
Kostya leaned back in his chair, and something in his posture had shifted since they’d left campus. Gone was the carefully controlled predator she’d grown accustomed to. In his place sat a man who looked almost... relaxed. “It wasn’t enough,” he said simply. “You earned this day, Azriel. All of it.”
The way he said her name, like he was tasting something sweet, made heat pool low in her stomach. She pushed the feeling away and focused on cutting her pasta into precise pieces.
“Summa cum laude,” he continued, and there was genuine pride in his voice that made her look up despite herself. “Psychology, criminal justice, business administration. Tell me, were you planning to become a profiler? Hunt down men like me?”
There was no mockery in the question, just curiosity, and Azriel found herself answering honestly. “I wanted tounderstand why people hurt others. Why they choose violence when there are other options.”
“And what conclusion did you reach?”
She studied his face, looking for the trap in the question. But his dark eyes were genuinely interested, and when they caught the candlelight just right, they seemed to lighten to an almost golden brown. “That it’s usually about control. Or fear. Sometimes both.”
“Astute.” He took a sip of wine, never taking his gaze off her. “And which am I? Controlling or afraid?”
“Both,” she said without hesitation, then immediately regretted her honesty when his eyebrows rose in surprise.
But instead of the cold fury she expected, Kostya threw back his head and laughed. The sound was rich and genuine, transforming his entire face, and Azriel felt something dangerous flutter in her chest.
“You don’t pull your punches, do you, wife?”
