Page 25 of Unrequited (Bratva Kings #6)

Then she looks away. “Until you,” she adds softly. “You’re the first person I’ve ever lied over.”

I tilt her chin up with my finger and make her meet my eyes.

“Why’d you do it, love?” I ask softly.

“I felt… trapped sometimes,” she says. “At least, I thought I did. Like a caged bird. I just wanted to breathe outside the family, just for a moment.”

She pauses. “I saw my brothers getting married, traveling, living. And I imagined myself always stuck there, little Zoya in the kitchen, with only a few friends, not much beyond my family.”

She blinks rapidly, tears slipping down her cheeks. “But I do love them, Seamus.”

“I know,” I say, pulling her in. I kiss her forehead, then her damp lashes, tasting her tears.

“I know you’re honest. And I know sometimes pressure makes people do desperate things. Things they’re not proud of. But that doesn’t define you.”

Maybe I’m saying it for both of us.

“Will you give me that promise, love? Please?”

She nods. “And I promise too. You ask, I’ll answer. Truth for truth.”

I nod.

“So let me ask you something, then.” I lower my voice. “What are you afraid of?”

“You,” she whispers.

And I know, in that moment, she’s telling the truth.

“When I was with you… before I knew who you really were… I thought you worked for The Undertaker, and that was bad enough. God, I was such an idiot.”

I growl low and shake my head. “Ah-ah. You don’t say a word against yerself like that again, hear?”

Swallowing hard, she nods and continues. “I never imagined… not in a million years… that you were the man. The one everyone fears.”

Now the tears fall freely. Her voice breaks as she says it, raw and real.

“And I thought I loved you,” she says. “But I don’t know how I could love someone who’s done those terrible things.”

It’s the truth. And it cuts deeper than I care to admit. But we’ve only just begun, haven’t we? There’s still time. I’ll show her, no, I’ll prove it. Right then and there, I make her a promise .

“I’ll make a vow to you, lass. I will earn your love for me,” I tell her.

“What we had back in Russia, that wasn’t the full story. That was heat, tension, chemistry, but it was filtered. We weren’t truly ourselves, were we? Everything I knew about you was through one lens,” I say. “And everything you learned about me… well, it came from another.”

“Yes,” she whispers, barely audible.

“Then give me a chance,” I say again. “Let me show you how deep my love for you goes. If I wanted to marry just any old woman, I would’ve. Could’ve, easily.”

I don’t need to tell her I could’ve had any woman I wanted. Wealth and power make for easy hunting. But that was never the point.

“I wanted you,” I say simply. “But you didn’t give me the whole truth just now, did you? You’re afraid. Afraid of me, of what I’ve done. But, lass, you were raised around some of the most dangerous Russians alive.”

And I know she knows how to love even the darkest of men.

“I never thought about my brothers as wicked,” she says softly.

Maybe one day she won’t think of me that way either.

“There are men,” I continue, “who chase power for the sake of breaking others. They want money, status, worship. That’s not what this is. Everything I’ve done, every bloody thing, was for the same reason your brothers did what they’ve done. Loyalty. Protection. Family. ”

She goes quiet for a moment, then says it, so gently, like she’s afraid even her own voice will shatter something fragile between us.

“That’s the other reason I’m afraid, Seamus.”

“Yes?”

“I’m afraid you’ll make me choose. Between you and them.”

She draws in a breath, lets it out in a whisper.

“Please don’t make me do that. I took my vows to you, but I meant every word. I don’t go back on what I say.”

I cup her face, my heart tight.

“My fierce little lass,” I whisper. “I know.”

And I won’t lie to her.

“I can’t promise that choice will never come. I won’t do that to you. But I swear to you, I’ll do everything in my power to make sure it never comes from me.”

She looks up at me.

“How much power do you have?”

“That,” I say with a small smile, “remains to be seen.”

“Yes,” she says again, barely audible.

“Is that all, Zoya? Is that all you’re afraid of?”

Her gaze flickers back to the bedroom. Her cheeks flush a deep, burning red.

“You know…” she whispers. “I’m a virgin. That one time with you… well, it was the only time. ”

She pauses. Swallows. Then does the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen, buries her face against my chest like she can’t stand to look me in the eye.

I wrap my arms around her gently. I don’t force her to meet my gaze.

“And you’re afraid,” I say softly, “of what happens between a husband and wife?”

I run a hand down her small, fragile, perfect little back. She’s so damn tiny, it undoes me.

“Yes,” she whispers. “I don’t know how to do anything. What if I disappoint you? What if I… What if it hurts?”

My chest swells at her honesty. Christ, I’ve never wanted to protect someone so fiercely.

“Those are all fair fears, love,” I tell her. “But I’ll teach you. I will. One step at a time. There’s no rush.”

I shake my head and sigh, but inside, I feel a rare, quiet peace.