The door clicked shut behind her, and for the first time in what felt like hours, Anton allowed himself to exhale. But it wasn't relief. Not by any stretch. It was the kind of exhale you take when you're standing on the edge, watching the ground slip away beneath you, but you're too far gone to go back.
He stood by the window, the snow still falling softly outside, and the city sprawling beneath him, distant and indifferent. The cold air from the room wrapped itself around him as he stared out into the dark, every passing second stretching longer than the last.
She's not just anyone, he thought. She didn't flinch when I looked her in the eye. That's rare.
He hadn't expected it to be easy. This wasn't the kind of proposition that most people would just agree to. Marriage. A contract. A bargain. It was all so… clinical. But it was the only solution to a problem he didn't know how to fix. He needed her. He needed her to agree.
But as he watched the streetlights blink beneath the falling snow, he couldn't help but feel like a part of him wanted her to say no.
I need her to say yes. But why the hell does this feel like I'm the one in a cage?
He pushed himself away from the window, his movements deliberate. Anton wasn't used to second-guessing himself. He didn't have time for it, not in the world he lived in. He had learned a long time ago that making decisions was about control, about knowing exactly what you wanted and taking it. He didn't look back.
But with her, it was different.
There was something about her that pulled at him. She wasn't like the others—she didn't smile and bow her head, waiting for a command. She stood her ground, even when she had nothing to stand on.
Damn it, Anton. Don't think about her like this. She's just a pawn. A piece in the game.
But the more he told himself that, the more it felt hollow. Because when he had offered her the deal, when he had seen her standing there, not flinching under the weight of the power he wielded, something had shifted. It wasn't just the need to have control over the situation anymore.
No, now there was something else. Something he didn't understand.
I don't do feelings. I don't let anyone get close. Why am I letting her—
He stopped himself.
He didn't have time for questions.
The clock ticked on. But as the minutes bled into hours, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had made a mistake—letting her leave like that, giving her time to think, when every part of him wanted to keep her right there.
He glanced down at the desk, where a series of documents lay—numbers, figures, plans for the coming week. His business. His empire. The one thing he could count on.
But that… didn't matter in this moment.
He poured himself another drink, his hand steady as he watched the amber liquid swirl in the glass. The warmth hit his throat, but it did nothing to settle the unease gnawing at him.
I've handled worse. I've done worse. So why does this feel different?
And then, as if to prove something to himself, Anton picked up his phone and sent a simple text.
"Let me know when she makes her decision."
It wasn't a question. It wasn't a plea. It was a statement of fact.
But as he set the phone down, the silence around him deepened.
He didn't expect an answer right away. He didn't need one. But his mind kept coming back to her—the only person in this whole mess who hadn't bowed, who hadn't shown fear.
And somewhere in the back of his mind, that unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
The seconds stretched long after his text had been sent. The stillness of the room seemed to press down on him, the air heavy, thick with the tension he couldn't escape. The hum of the city outside barely reached him, muted behind the thick glass of his office. It felt as if the world were holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.
Anton reached for his drink again, staring at the glass, but his mind wasn't on the amber liquid anymore. His thoughts had shifted, slipping away from business and strategy into the realm of something far less predictable—something he wasn't accustomed to.
What if she doesn't come back? What if she says no?
The thought was almost unbearable, though he wouldn't have admitted it to anyone. Certainly not to his father, who expected nothing less than unflinching success.
She's not like the others, he repeated to himself. She's not a pawn. She's different.
That was the problem, wasn't it? He had been calculating, strategic, giving her just enough space, just enough time to make a decision, but now he was faced with the uncertainty of it all. If she said no… would that be the end of it? Or would he find himself in a different kind of struggle? One he couldn't control?
Anton set his glass down, the empty echo of it tapping against the wood resounding louder than it should have. He hadn't intended for things to go this way. He hadn't expected her to stand her ground so firmly, to meet him with such resolve.
She's stronger than I thought.
The realization had come to him quickly, but it wasn't comforting. It felt like a shift, a crack in the foundation of the world he had so carefully built. Everything he had built—his reputation, his power, his empire—had been about control. About never letting anyone in. Never showing weakness.
What if she's the one person who might change that?
The idea unsettled him more than anything else.
Anton wasn't used to doubt. He was used to acting. To making decisions and moving forward, never second-guessing himself. The thought of letting someone else have even a tiny piece of his mind, of letting them in to see the cracks he kept hidden, felt like a betrayal of everything he had worked for.
I can't let her break me.
But the more he thought about it, the harder it became to push her out of his mind. Nastya wasn't just another person in his world. She wasn't another fleeting distraction or someone who would fall in line.
No, she was a force in her own right. She stood on her own.
And that made her dangerous.
Anton stood up, pacing across the room. The dim light from the city below spilled across the floor, painting his movements with long shadows. He moved like a predator, his steps silent and calculated, but there was no confidence in the rhythm of his stride. Just a raw energy—a tension he couldn't shake.
He needed answers. He needed to know what she would do next.
The words he had spoken to her echoed in his mind:
"You'll be safe with me. You'll have what you need."
They had been truthful words, but there was a part of him that had meant them in more ways than one. He hadn't intended to become attached. He hadn't planned on any of this.
So why does this feel like I've already lost?
His phone buzzed, pulling him from his thoughts.
A single message, from his right-hand man. His face darkened as he read it:
"She's on her way home. She's not speaking to anyone about it. Yet."
Anton's gaze lingered on the screen. Not yet. He let out a slow breath, watching the flickering light of his phone screen.
She's still thinking.
That was the only good news. He had time.
He put the phone down and turned back to the window. The city spread out below him, cold and indifferent. But in his chest, something wasn't indifferent. Something was alive. The same feeling he had when he stood face to face with danger, ready to strike.
Only this time, the danger was him.
I can't afford to fail at this.
His resolve hardened. He had a decision to make—and if she chose to say no, he would have to live with it. But the weight of not knowing, the uncertainty, felt like a battle he wasn't ready to lose.