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“I’m sorry, lisichka. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” I repeat it over and over, trying to make it penetrate whatever is screaming in her head. At the rage radiating.

My arms and body ache with the strain of holding her, absorbing the punches and elbows from her efforts. Finally, she stills, her breathing labored, and her body trembling from the exertion as I go quiet.

I say nothing else, just keep my grip tight and press my lips to her hair.

My heart pounds, and my throat feels tight. I don’t know what to do. Or say. Or think. I’ve fucked up. I’ve majorly fucked up, and how the fuck do I make it better? Fix it? Make her realize I’m a safe space for her.

Or is it even possible?

Have I stepped into something I will never be able to cut through?

She shudders one more time, and her head falls forward, bracing against the side of my bicep, and all those thoughts fall away.

“I’m sorry, lisichka,” I murmur. “I shouldn’t have pushed you.” Guilt eats at me.

She’s silent for another long, tense moment before she finally rasps, “You asked me if I knew what I wanted everything to look like. I never actually really thought of it. I only saw that I wanted you, and I selfishly couldn’t allow myself to give that up. I just hoped that you would accept me as I am, let me stay me, and we would continue on the way we were. But that’s not how it works. It can’t work.”

“We can make anything we want work, Lane. Anything. As long as we’re ready to put in the work. Maybe we fuck it up⁠—”

“Out of the two of us, there’s a much higher chance that I’ll be the one to do that.” She sighs heavily. “All you wanted was a bath, and I lost my shit.”

“What about the bath upset you? We can avoid that in the future.”

“It’s not the bath itself,” she admits. “It’s everything that goes with it. Naked, vulnerable, intimate. Putting myself in a position that I’ve been trained to never allow myself in. Get in, do the job, and get out. There are no pretty words, casual moments, or thinking of the future.” Slowly, she looks over her shoulder at me. “No wanting something for myself.”

“And you want me?”

“The sex wasn’t enough of a clue?” The slight snark in her tone makes me smile.

“Mmm, I thought it was you trying to burn me in bed, but the sex is a close second, yes.” She rolls her eyes, and I take that as a win. Taking a risk, I lean forward and press a kiss to the tip of her nose. She freezes, eyes widening. “We don’t need to go from zero to a hundred, Lane. We make our own rules. We figure out what you need to feel safe here, and I try to understand when you disappear for however the fuck long you’re gone. I hope that you won’t take a job for a while and allow yourself to just be here with me. Give us time to figure things out. But I also know I can’t ask you to stop being who and what you are.”

“You’re going to resent that eventually.”

She sounds so confident in that. “And why do you think that?”

A rueful smile pulls at her lips. “Being an assassin isn’t exactly a grand job. It’s unpredictable, long hours, weeks, even months at a time. Including no contact. You will never know where I am, who I’m with, or what I’m doing. You will always have to be blind to it all. And you’re going to hate me for that. Maybe not right away, but in time.”

I absorb that. My knee-jerk reaction is to tell her no, that will never happen, but she’s not wrong. Unable to figure out where she was for the past few years has consumed me. Stopping that will be tough.

“Then we figure it out. I don’t know what my future feelings will be, Lane. I can’t. Neither can you. You may grow to resent me as well. While you’re off doing your work, I’ll be here, running the empire my father built and Zakhar and I expanded. That includes all the regular things: going to events and being around other women you aren’t going to approve of. Will you trust me wholly not to want them? Will you resent that I’m living my life without you, even if I’m waiting?”

I can see the wheels turning behind her eyes. Finally, she whispers, “I don’t know if we’re going to make this work, Ilya. But I’m too fucking selfish to walk away from it. We’re probably going to crash and burn.”

“Then we’ll have at least known we tried. But no matter what you think, I will vow this. I will never betray you. Even if we’re apart, I owe you that much for what you’ve done for Mila. For me. Or we make a rule that we never discuss your work so that I have the deniability.”

She gives me a yeah-right look. “Says the control freak.”

I smirk. “Like knows like. All we can do is try, Lane. Just try. Can you do that? Can we do that?”

“I can’t promise anything, Ilya. I won’t lie to you. I’ve done enough of that.”

It’s going to have to be enough. Disappointment is sharp, but I force it down. Time. That’s all we need, and I need to give it to her.

I nod. “No more lying. We’re honest, even if it’s to tell each other we can’t talk about something.” I press a gentle kiss to her lips. She doesn’t pull away, but the wariness is back.

It’s going to be a rough road to get her to trust me, but we’ll get there.

Somehow, I’m going to find the patience I don’t fucking have, but, for her, I’ll try.