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CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO ETHAN'S POV Rose is fast asleep, her lips parted slightly, and her golden locks splayed all over the pillow. I've spent the last hour watching her; the slight flutter of her thick lashes, the steady rise and fall of her chest under the blanket, and how peaceful she looks—safe almost. Her fair complexion appears bluish in the darkness, ethereal, and so fvcking appetizing I want to take her all over again. But at the same time, I love how she clings to me even in her sleep, wrapping her hand around my torso and intertwining her legs with mine. She's so beautiful; it's maddening. My obsession with this woman runs deeper and darker than I initially calculated. Putting distance between us felt like ripping my heart from between my ribs. It started when I first met her. When Elliot introduced her to me with a gleam in his usually cold eyes, I wondered what could have made the merciless leader of the New York is so proud. At the time, I thought she looked normal, like all American-born Russians, with her head held high and her eyes sparkling like she wanted to discover the world and its galaxies in one lifetime. The only difference was that Rose didn't seem like she only wanted to discover the world. Even at that age, she was set on conquering. The part that stayed with me beside her expressive eyes was her smile. Unlike other spoiled mafia princesses, Rose was too mature for her age. Elliot might have spoiled her, but she always knew her place and strived to be more for the society. Back then, I didn't realize I was obsessed. After I left Godfather and the others back in London, I aimed to stay by Elliot's side. Not having a place to belong to ate away my soul, but I couldn't wait just anywhere; I had to be where I could somehow plot my revenge. So, I figured he would keep me around if he trusted me enough to protect his granddaughter. My plan worked, but I didn't count on this woman getting under my skin. The first time I noticed how much of an effect she had on me was after I left. That morning I woke up and didn't have someone knocking on my door demanding that I teach them how to shoot or accompany them on a walk. I went into withdrawal with its buried screams, burning memories, and silent breakdown. And I remained in that fvcking withdrawal for seven years. But it's not withdrawal if it lasted that long; it's an obsession. As soon as I returned, that obsession grabbed me by the throat like nothing ever had. It's different from the obsession pulsing under my skin, demanding I avenge my parents' death. One is bloodlust with the need to hurt. The other is still some sort of lust, but it's like a never-ending ache, the type that carved its place into the very marrow of my bones. Stroking her hair behind her ear, I brush my lips to her forehead, lingering for a second too long so I can inhale her. Then I carefully untangle her from around me and stand up. I slide my boxer briefs on and head to the bathroom. I hit the light switch and stand in front of the mirror. My hands grip the marble counter as I stare at the galaxy of colors. Scarlet red, violet, bluish. That fvcker Hades made a painting out of my face—a chaotic one. My eyes are swollen, and the cut on my lip has dried blood all over it. I should have handled it more before I got here. Peter had a fright when he saw me. The kid shouldn't have joined the Bratva at all. Instead of thinking of mundane things like cleaning my face, the only thought in my mind was that I needed to see her before she completely erased me. I have no doubt she would live a perfect everyday life without me. I'm the one who kept having withdrawals for seven fvcking years. Reaching the cabinet, I retrieve the first aid kit to clean the wounds. Hades, the fvcker, should start picking his funeral song because he'll pay. Not only for hitting me but for taking my wife away from me. The condescending piece of shit always made it clear that I shouldn't be with her. She's a mafia princess, and I'm a nobody, a killer who should remain in the shadows and only come out when he's needed to take care of extracurricular activities. He's not wrong, but fvck him and everyone who thinks of me as a bloody shadow. The padding of feet comes from behind me. I don't turn around, not wanting her to know I feel her, even when she's far away. She already thinks I'm abnormal, and I cemented that fact by telling her about my bloody past. I never divulged those memories to anyone except for Godfather. With her, the words tumbled out of my mouth so quickly, as if I was always meant to tell her about it. Rose stops behind me and tilts to the side to peek at me through the mirror. Her brows furrow when she makes out the cotton filled with alcohol in my hand. 'Does it hurt?" 'It looks worse than it is." She slips under my arm to stand between me and the counter. The only thing that covers her is a flimsy white gown that teases at her rosy areolas and hardened nipples. Fvck me. She always looks like a sin waiting to happen. 'You don't have to be modest about it. I know Hades's punches hurt like hell." "My punch hurts worse." My tone is flat. I'm being petty, but I don't like that she thinks any other man is more potent than me. "I'm sure it does." She takes the cotton from my fingers and dabs it with yellow liquid instead of alcohol. Feeling the need to further prove myself, I say, 'I was the best sniper in my group." 'Your group?" she asks without taking her attention from the cotton. "At The Underground, we were divided into groups of approximately ten. We trained together and lived in the same space." 'Did you go on missions together?" 'No. We went in pairs of two. We usually had a permanent partner." 'Did you?" 'Not really, but I guess I spent a long time with Serene." Her movements pause, and she stares up at me. "Serene? That sounds like a girl's name." I hide my internal smirk. 'It is. She's crazy but fun to have around." 'Then why aren't you with her?" 'Because I'm with you, Princess." I try to kiss her, but she places a hand on my chest. 'You're hurt. Stop it." 'It'll hurt less if I kiss you." "No," she scolds, returning to dabbing the cotton, not meeting my gaze. "Was she a sniper, too? Celeste." I feign nonchalance. 'She can be, but she's not at my level. We had better chemistry on groundwork." She presses the cotton to my lip, and I groan, but her expression remains neutral. "Glad you had chemistry." 'Are you jealous?" 'I'm not." 'But you're jealous." 'Why would I be? Because of the chemistry?" 'Don't worry. You and I have better chemistry." 'Screw you." "Finish cleaning me up, and I'd happily oblige." 'Why don't you hit up Serene for that?" "And have you jealous?" I attempt to pinch her cheek, and she swats my hand away. I chuckle, and it ends with a grunt when my cuts sting. "Stay still." Rose rises on her tiptoes so she can reach up. I grab her by the hips, lifting her, and she squeals as I plant her on the marble counter. I open her legs and settle between them so she's at eye level. She looks so soft right now, tempting, edible, and everything. Cleaning my wounds becomes the worst idea when all I want to do is lay her down and pound into her until she screams. Then I would bite that pink nipple through the transparent cloth and suck on it until she's writhing in pleasure. But for now, I settle for touching her cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin under my fingers. 'I love you, Rose." Her eyes soften, and she places her hand over mine. 'I love you too, Ethan." For a moment, the pain fades away, replaced by the warmth of her love and the promise of our future together.