I leaned back in my chair, stretching my legs out as I tapped my fingers idly against the desk. The dim glow of the monitors bathed the room in a low, flickering light, casting shifting shadows across the walls.

There she was.

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Moving through the aisles of that dusty little bookstore. I exhaled slowly, reaching for my glass of vodka, taking a slow sip as I watched her.

This was supposed to be a quick check-in. A few minutes, maybe. Just long enough to make sure she was fine—untouched, unharmed, existing in her own little world where no one could reach her.

But then she tilted her head, pushing her sunglasses into her hair, and I was gone.

Fucking gone.

Her iced coffee was in one hand, the condensation dripping down her fingers, polish chipping at the edges. She took slow sips between flipping through the book in her other hand, her lips pursed in thought. She always did that when she was concentrating.

I should be in that meeting right now.

I should be listening to the men downstairs talk about numbers, shipments, money that needed to be laundered through a hundred different businesses.

Instead, I was here.

Watching her.

She wandered to the next aisle, running her fingers along the spines of the books, her nails clicking softly against the hardcovers. Then she stopped—eyes catching on something, lips parting slightly as she pulled a book free.

I adjusted the camera angle.

What book, Lisichka?

I wanted to know.

I wanted to be there, standing next to her, watching as she flipped to the first page, as her lips curled into a quiet smile at some turn of phrase she liked. I wanted to steal a sip of that iced coffee, just to see the way she’d roll her eyes and huff at me like I was impossible.

Instead, I was watching her from a fucking screen.

I ran my tongue over my teeth, jaw ticking.

I couldn’t follow her forever. Couldn’t have her under my thumb every second of the day, no matter how bad I fucking wanted to.

But this-this, I could do.

She was safe. She was breathing. She was mine.