Or, Sacha could fully commit to the life she’d chosen when she’d walked into Alekzander’s arms after he told her their organization was basically big business that had a darker side he would always do his best to keep her away from. She could fully commit to the path she’d chosen when she’d walked back into Alekzander’s arms after he told her of his reasons for breaking her heart sixteen months ago. And she could fully commit to the path she’d chosen when she’d given herself to Alekzander, body and soul, each time they’d made love since coming back together. In all those instances, she’d chosen him. She’d chosen to be with the man who’d touched her so deeply that he was now a part of her. Lekzi had known her father from day one because Sacha had never stopped sharing him with her. The stories had been shadowed with grief and anger, but she’d shared them nonetheless, and her love had poured out of her with every word she’d spoken to the child they’d created together. In the darkness, when they’d lain in bed in that small, lonely apartment, Sacha had told her baby of every date Alekzander had ever taken her on, of every small gift he’d ever given her, of every happy moment she’d shared with a man who’d stripped her of her life as surely as he’d stripped her of her title as his.
Something he’d done because his love for Sacha equaled what she felt for him.
How could she let Sergei, a sociopathic corpse, make all of that irrelevant by allowing his actions to tear apart the fragile family tapestry that was only now coming together?
The answer had been simple. She couldn’t.
Lucas opened the car door, and she rode up in the elevator, comfortably sandwiched between him and Grigori. As they walked down the quiet hallway, she smoothed her hair and blinked when Grigori handed her a key.
Grateful, she accepted it. “I had not thought of that,” she admitted with a sheepish smile.
“Anton gave it to me. But Alek would have answered if I did not have it.”
She nodded and used it, holding the door for them. They shook their heads.
“Excuse me.”
She jumped before moving aside so Anton could also go out into the corridor. Alekzander’s bodyguard took the handle, and with an amicable look, closed the door in her face. Lovely. Now they could stand out there with nothing to do but imagine her and Alekzander having sex. She shrugged.
Coming into the home they’d once shared wasn’t as harrowing as she’d thought it was going to be. She felt a twang of regret when she saw their initials in the middle of the floor, but was then filled with warmth when she tripped over a pair of Italian leather dress shoes.
She left her own on because she knew he liked having her in shoes. Would he want to have her? she wondered. For the last few days and nights, he’d touched her constantly, but they hadn’t had sex.
Crossing the foyer, she smoothed her dress over her hips, feeling that prickling in her fingers and the soles of her feet that she always felt just before seeing him. Her feelings for this man were overwhelming. They had been right from the start and had never settled into something she felt able to handle. Her knees were weak, she realized as she took a slow breath to steady herself.
The sound of her heels clicking signified her approach so he was turning from the window as she entered the main room. Now her chest felt heavy. She looked around as she crossed to him, noting the table in the dining room was set for dinner, but she didn’t linger on any one thing because she was too busy moving into Alekzander’s hard body. His dark suit and tie were immaculate, as always. But something was different.
She slipped her arms around his waist and kissed a bruise on the side of his clean-shaven jaw that he’d gotten from his fight with Sergei. He also had a black eye. “Hello, my sun,” she greeted in their own language.
His arms came around her, and her eyes slid closed because it just felt so right. She rested her head on his chest and was surprised at how quickly his heart was beating. But she didn’t mention it.
“I did not know you planned to have your hair cut.” She drew back and sifted her fingers through the shorter strands flirting higher up on his forehead than she’d gotten used to. Now he looked polished. “It is very sexy.” She went further into the thick mass and gently fisted a handful. “Yes,” she nodded, as though it had passed a test. “It is still long enough for when I need it.”
A slow smile lifted the corners of his mouth, and with a glowing flame burning in the backs of his icy eyes, he slid his fingers into her hair. He did as she’d done and closed his hands into fists. With the hold, he pulled her in and kissed her.