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I’ve been doing it more and more since that first night with Sophia. And after years of keeping myself on such a tight leash, it feels addictive.

Eventually, I slow, turning onto a private access road that leads to a secluded stretch of beach. It’s in the early hours of the morning now, after midnight, the night taking on that eerily quiet feeling that it gets at this time as I park the car on the sand.

I get out, walking around to open Sophia’s car door. “Come with me.” I take her hand. “Let’s go for a walk.”

I lead her down to where the waves lap gently at the shore, finding a spot where the sand is firm. We sit side by side, watching the water as it stretches out to touch the edge of the night sky.

“I love it out here,” Sophia murmurs quietly. “The beach is my favorite place to come and think.”

I glance at her, surprised. “Mine, too.” The admission comes as a surprise, as well—I don’t talk about myself to anyone. I hadn’t planned on opening up to her now—but if not now, when?Things have changed between us. And if this is going to be the kind of marriage that I hadn’t dared to hope for, then I need to see if it can stand on those legs, too. Not just on desire alone.

"I used to come here as a teenager," I tell her, my voice quiet against the backdrop of the surf. "When things at home became too much. When I needed space to think."

She turns to look at me, her expression soft in the dim moonlight. There’s something else in it, too—caution, I think? Hesitation? I can’t be sure. But her voice sounds sympathetic when she speaks, "From your father?"

I nod. "He's always been... exacting. Demanding. And as his only son, his heir, I bore the brunt of his expectations." I pick up a handful of sand, letting it sift through my fingers. "There were times I hated him for it."

"And now?"

“Now I just want to be different from him.” I blow out a sharp breath. “This life—our world, it doesn’t forgive weakness. It doesn’t allow it. And I have no desire to be weak. But I do want there to be less violence. Less… pain, caused by what we do. I think we can find a straighter path forward and still be what we are.”

“What do you mean by that?” she asks cautiously, and I turn to look at her fully.

“I want to legitimize some of our businesses. Clean up the Bratva. I want solutions that aren’t always bloody.”

Sophia makes a small, thoughtful noise in the back of her throat. “And what does your father think?”

I chuckle darkly. “He thinks that it’s weakness, of course. As turning my back on our heritage. But I see it as evolution. Adaptation." I pause, studying her reaction. "What do you think?"

She seems surprised by the question, as if she didn't expect me to value her opinion. "I think… change is inevitable. Fightingit is like trying to hold back the tide." She gestures toward the ocean. "If you’re caught in it, you can adapt, or you can drown. If you want to be the tide, then you need to be inexorable. Relentless. And others will come along with you, or drown in your wake."

“I’m not sure I want to drown anyone,” I say quietly. “I’ve had enough violence to fill a lifetime. But you’re right that change takes conviction. I’ll have to be firm in my decisions.”

She smiles, but there’s something hesitant in it, as if she’s deep in thought. I find myself wanting to reach into her mind, to know more about this woman who is like no one else I’ve ever encountered before. A woman who keeps surprising me, over and over again.

"Tell me something about you," I say softly. "Something real."

Her smile falters slightly. "Like what?"

"Anything. Something from before. Before us, before my father decided you should be my wife." I reach out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I want to know you, Sophia."

She's quiet for a long moment, her gaze turned toward the horizon. When she speaks, her voice is softer than usual, edged with something that might be sadness.

“You know everything about me,” she says quietly. “I went to college in Scotland, I traveled Europe after?—”

“No.” I interrupt her. “I meanyou. You’ve talked about your father taking you on jobs, about being trained to fight?—”

“I don’t want to talk about that.” Now she’s the one who cuts me off. “I just… this has been a good night, Konstantin. I don’t want to think about all of that. I’d rather just be who I am right now, in this moment. With you.”

She turns to face me again, pushing herself up as she leans toward me, and I can feel how drawn I am to her, like my body ismagnetized to hers. I want to push, to ask her to share more, but her lips find mine, and my desire surges back like the tide.

I slant my mouth over hers, and her hands slide up into my hair, her body rising up to press against mine. I slide my tongue into her mouth, warm and wet, and my cock throbs, aching to bury itself in a different wet heat.

The sky is beginning to lighten. We’ve stayed out all night, and my need has reached a breaking point. I feel my self-control fraying, the need to find release with my wife overtaking everything else, and I start to pull Sophia toward me, into my lap.

She breaks the kiss abruptly, shaking her head. I can still taste the salt air on my lips from hers.

“Not here,” she says with a shaky laugh. “Not in the sand.”