Too hard to admit

(Lukyan's POV)

Lukyan watched her walk away.

Every step she took, every inch of distance she put between them, he felt it.

He had never let himself feel before.

Not when he first laid out the contract. Not during those three nights when she had been beneath him, giving him the children he needed. Not during the years that followed, when they lived in polite, detached silence.

But now? Now, she was all he could feel.

And he hated it

Because Larissa was not an easy woman to break.

And neither was he.

He exhaled slowly, running a hand over his face before getting out of the car. This wasn't over.

Not even close.

---

Larissa tried to pretend nothing had changed.

She went about her routine. Woke up early, dressed for work, had breakfast with the children.

Lukyan was there—of course he was—but she didn't look at him. Didn't acknowledge him.

If he was frustrated, he didn't show it.

Good. Let him suffer.

But two could play this game.

And so, she fought back.

That weekend, she accepted another invitation from Dmitri—this time, a work gala.

She picked a dress carefully. Not inappropriate, but still… dangerous.

A deep navy gown, fitted at the waist, with a slit that rode just high enough to make an impression.

If Lukyan wanted to act like this was nothing, then fine.

She would make him watch her be nothing to someone else.

But the second she walked downstairs, she knew she had pushed too far.

Lukyan was already waiting.

And the look in his eyes? Lethal.

---

Lukyan had been patient.

He had given Larissa space. Had let her keep playing this game, pretending she didn't want him.

But when she walked down those stairs—**dressed like that, looking like that—**he felt something inside him snap.

Dmitri was waiting by the door. That bastard.

Lukyan barely glanced at him.

His focus was on her.

Larissa's chin lifted. Challenging him.

But Lukyan wasn't in the mood for games.

So he stepped forward, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her into him.

A soft gasp left her lips as she collided against his chest.

Lukyan leaned down, voice dark and controlled.

"Go upstairs and change."

Larissa's eyes flashed. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." His fingers curled around her wrist, not letting go.

Dmitri shifted awkwardly behind them. "Uh, Larissa—"

Lukyan cut him a look so sharp the man went silent.

Then, he turned back to his wife.

Because she was his.

And tonight? He was done pretending.

---

(Larissa's POV)

Larissa should fight.

She should tell him he had no right. That he couldn't act like he owned her now, not after all these years of keeping her at a distance.

But the way he was looking at her—dangerous, possessive, hungry—made her weak.

"Let me go, Lukyan."

His grip tightened. "No."

She sucked in a sharp breath.

Dmitri cleared his throat behind them. "Maybe I should—"

Lukyan didn't even look at him when he said, "You should leave."

Larissa wanted to argue.

But she didn't.

Because deep down, she already knew the truth.

She would have walked out that door tonight just to spite him.

Not because she wanted to.

And Lukyan? Lukyan had called her bluff.

So she exhaled slowly, tilting her chin up. "Fine."

Then, without another word, she turned and walked back up the stairs.

And for the first time in eight years, she wasn't sure if she was running away—

Or finally running toward him.

---