Nothing Burns Like You | 18+ Mafia Romance

17 A Strong Woman

CLARA ROSSI

It had been a week since Volkov lost.

Ever since that day in the safe house, he'd been avoiding interactions, drowning himself in work. The townhouse had never been so quiet.

At first, I wanted to respect his privacy, his need for space. But he'd given me a fawn when I couldn't leave my room in Mexico. So...

On Sunday evening, I knocked on his office door.

"What?" He snapped behind it.

I took that as 'welcome, please come in' and cracked it open.

He was sitting in a black leather chair behind a messy desk, one hand buried in his hair, writing in a notebook.

The bronze lamp in the corner provided barely enough light to reveal the exhaustion under his eyes and the tension in his shoulders.

"Dear diary, if I keep hiding in my office, maybe Clara might get curious if I'm still alive," I said, sauntering closer.

"Not in the mood."

"No way? Could've fooled me."

He glared under his lashes. "What is it, Clara?"

"I have a surprise for you." I moved around his desk and leaned against it, in front of him.

Confusion furrowed his brows. "What?"

I let my hand wander over my hip, brushing the silky material of my champagne skirt. The movement drew his gaze down there.

"I finally bought crotchless panties."

He deadpanned. "Hilarious."

"Who said it's a joke?"

"Fine." He raised a mocking brow, the rest of his features hard and unyielding. "Lift up your skirt."

My heart beat quickened. "You don't think I would?"

"I know you wouldn't." He sighed.

"Your loss."

"Sorry, but if this is your way of cheering me up, it's terrible."

"Aw. Well, I'm sure Niko would be interested."

His expression hardened further, and I realized how much I fucking hated this.

I missed him. I missed that fire in him. The one that burned and overpowered everything else around me. When life felt out of control. When my own thoughts made it hard to breathe. Somehow, he had become a source of comfort, something I could lean on. In his presence, I felt less scared of the world, of the future. But now, he looked like someone else and I hated it.

That desperation bled into my voice, into my expression. "Okay, what can I do? How can I help?"

"There's nothing you can do."

"Just tell me, Daniel."

He froze in his spot.

"What?" I asked. "I know that you've thought about it. Haven't you? Just say it."

He continued to gawk at me, with a mixture of astonishment and disbelief.

"What?" I snapped. "What is it?"

"You've never called me Daniel before." His voice came out breathless.

Huh? Oh. Shit, he was right.

"Yeah, I have," I said defensively.