His hands settle on my shoulders, warm and steady. "My people want what I want: someone real. Someone who brings light into dark places." He presses a kiss to my neck. "Someone who tamed the beast."
I lean back against his chest, letting his strength shore up my wobbling confidence. Tonight, dozens of powerful men and women will pledge their loyalty to Samuil Litvinov, the new king of Chicago's underworld. And I'll stand beside him, their unlikely queen, carrying his heir.
He kisses me on the temple once more, then starts to leave. "I'll meet you downstairs. Five minutes," he warns, "or else I'm coming back to fetch you---and if that happens, we might never make it out of this bedroom."
I laugh and pinch his ass as he saunters out of the room.
But when he's gone, the nerves creep back
