Someone again texted me with words "Need another one, what if I die." Well 8 hours later and I saved your life. Don't wanna lose you.

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Melissa "I... am in love with my husband."

6 years ago... I never expected to feel anything like this. Love was strange to me, a paradox that defied logic. Because my mother loved my father so much that it seems she became completely blind and did not see how my father was ruining our lives.

It was strange how something so abstract could turn my world upside down. Because I'd grown up thinking that love was a distraction, even a weakness, but now it was a force that controlled my every move. Loving Roman, with all his dangerous charm, was like dancing on the edge of a knife.

I found myself wondering if this was true love or some kind of twisted addiction. Given how I married him or how strange things had been for us for the last three months. But maybe that's what love was like - messy, unpredictable, and all-consuming.

It blurred the lines of right and wrong, sense and madness. I loved Roman fiercely, not in spite of the danger, but because of myself. But that wasn't the strangest thing. What puzzled me most was how much I craved his respect, how desperately I wanted to be seen not as a woman in his shadow, but as an equal. Was this love, I wondered?

A strange, bitter love that was more like ambition than affection. But maybe a person like me loves like that? And yet I didn't even know what my husband felt at the same time, if Roman allows me all this, it means I am his everything. But...

Life in the mafia world had nothing to do with the exciting stories that I thought there were in such a world. But for me it was boring. There was no excitement unless you were directly involved in the shadows, the deals, the betrayals, the violence.

Instead, I floated on the fringes, existing only as Roman's wife, keeping away from the real action. Everyone looked at me with wary respect, but no one involved me in anything meaningful. Boredom gnawed at me.

All the secrecy, the intrigue behind closed doors, the whispered conversations that died down when I walked into a room, it all made me feel invisible. I knew the mafia world was dangerous, full of life and death, but I wanted to experience that adrenaline myself, to be part of something real.

There was a void in being an outsider in a world so deeply rooted in danger. Glamorous dinners, late-night parties, expensive gifts-they were all distractions. Without the darkness, without the real pulse of the life I knew Roman lived, it all seemed like a dull game of make-believe. I wanted to be free of the routine, to be someone with power, not just the wife of someone dangerous.

Of course, if I said a word to these men who think they are the most dangerous, they would scatter in my face and ask me to wipe their shoes. But I am not the one who is afraid of being laughed at, because the best laugh is the one that will sound because of me when I win this battle.

It wasn't enough for me to be Roman's wife. I wanted more. It wasn't that I didn't love him enough, it was that my lust for power matched his. I resented the fact that my position of influence depended solely on her marriage, as if I was nothing without it. But I wasn't blind to the truth. She knew that people didn't take me seriously because I didn't hold the reins of power.

It infuriated me. I had ambition, cunning, ruthlessness, all of it there. Yet I had to rely on Roman to pave the way for me, to give me the position I craved.

I wanted to be feared, to be respected in my own right. Not just as the wife of a dangerous man, but as a queen in my own right, ruling beside him, even over him. I knew the world could chew me up and spit me out, but I didn't care. I wanted to be the one giving the orders.

I wanted power. I wanted my own influence, to rule, not because of my husband, but because I could. That thought had been consuming me lately. I often found myself in the shadows of men, listening to their plans, watching them make decisions that I knew I could handle better.

But they rejected me - because I was a woman, because they thought I belonged to Roman and that was enough. It infuriated me. I had long deserved my own throne, my own empire. I didn't want to be just a queen by marriage - I wanted to rule the chessboard. Sometimes I wondered if Roman understood how much I wanted this. And judging by my monologue about what I wanted, it should be so obvious.

As I walked through the vast room, my heels echoing off the marble floor, I glanced down at my black trousers and white jacket. There was something poetic about the contrast of colours - black and white. It was not just about fashion, but about the balance of power, light and dark, good and evil. I often wondered if I was drawn to the dark side of life because it gave me a sense of control, whereas white symbolised the parts of myself I had to hold back, the vulnerability I could never allow myself to show.

Life, after all, was a balance between these forces, and I was constantly balancing on this fine line. Only sooner or later my clothes would turn black, because just a little bit more and my foot would step on the black side.

My steps stopped when I spotted Leah. The girl stood there frozen in fear, her eyes wide as if she had been caught doing something wrong. As soon as Leah spotted me, she tried to run, her steps fast and frantic. But my voice, sharp and commanding, stopped her.

"Wait." I walked up to her quickly and poured over her, folding my arms across my chest. "Where are you rushing to, darling?" "I..." Her eyes looked somewhere to the side. "I just need to go." "Where is he?" My tone left no room for excuses. Leia swallowed nervously, looking as if she would rather be anywhere else.

Leia's hands shook as she clasped them together. "He's in the hall." She said, her voice barely above a whisper. "What exactly is he doing there?" I narrowed my eyes. "Miss Kirillova, I can't say..." "Speak." I interrupted her. "They... they're having a meeting. The others are there too." My eyes widened for a second, but I quickly pulled myself together. A meeting? Without my knowledge? No one even said anything, even though I already said I wanted to participate? Rage flared in my chest. How dare Roman hide this from me?

Rage coursed through my veins as I spun on my heels and raced down the hallway, my heels clicking in a dangerous rhythm. Too dangerous and too fast. Roman hadn't told me about this encounter, and that betrayal had hurt. Okay, maybe I was exaggerating, but the bastard had said he'd think about my request.

Once again, I stood aside, as if I was just a trophy wife with no real place in their world. With every step, my anger grew until I reached the heavy doors of the hallway. Without hesitation, I pushed them open and stormed inside.

The room fell silent. The men at the long table looked up, their faces a mixture of surprise and hostility. These were dangerous men, murderers, but I did not flinch. My eyes found Roman at the head of the table, sitting like a king, calm and collected. But the admiration in his gaze did not soften my fury. He had no right to keep me in the dark.

Roman's gaze had locked onto me the moment I entered the room and had never let go, his eyes shining with admiration despite the chaos my entrance had caused. He had always loved my fire, the way I commanded attention when I walked into a room.

Even now, with his men watching, I was fearless. Roman leaned back in his chair, a mocking smile on his lips as I stood before him, every inch of me demanding to be taken seriously. In a world ruled by men like him, I was a force of nature, and he loved me for it.

"With all my respect, Miss Kirillova but..." "When you say respect and you don't actually have it..." I rolled my eyes. "Shut a fuck up."

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of every gaze on me. I had to make them understand. "I would say that I'm sorry that I interrupted your meeting but I'm not so I'll just say what I was going to say." I smiled. "I'm not just Roman's wife." I began, my voice even though my heart was pounding.

"I know this world. I've seen it, lived in it, and I can handle it as well as any of you. Just because I'm a woman doesn't mean I can't be a partner in this. A real partner." My eyes scanned the room, challenging anyone to argue with me. "You think I don't understand the risks? I do. But I'm not some fragile thing that needs to be protected. I can fight. I can negotiate. I can rule." The silence in the room was deafening, but I held myself tall. I wasn't asking for permission-I was demanding a seat at the table.

The men exchanged glances, some with skepticism, others with thinly veiled contempt. One finally spoke, his voice dripping with condescension. "Without preparation, you'll kill yourself. This isn't a game. You think you can just walk in here and-"

The silence lasted for what felt like an eternity before Roman finally stood, his chair scraping the marble floor, interrupting the man's words. He walked around the table, his eyes never leaving mine. The other men fell silent, their eyes darting between us. Roman stopped in front of me, his expression unreadable, and for a moment I thought he might reject me outright.

"Do you think you're ready for this world?" he asked, his voice quiet but filled with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine. "Do you have any idea what it takes to survive here? It's not just about ruthlessness, Melissa. It's about endurance, intelligence, knowing when to strike and when to back off. You can't just want power. You have to be willing to face the consequences of having it."

I straightened my back, not flinching, meeting his gaze. "I'm not afraid, Roman. I've been by your side these months. I've seen what this life is like. I'm not some delicate flower that needs to be protected. I'm ready to take control, to be a part of it." Roman chuckled softly, shaking his head slightly. "You think you've seen it all, but you haven't. Not even close. But..." He trailed off, his hand reaching out to gently cup my chin, "I believe you can learn. You have the fire for it. The question is, can you handle the discipline, the responsibility, the constant danger that comes with being in charge?"

"I can handle this. I want to handle this." He studied me for a moment before turning to face the room. "You all heard my wife." Roman addressed the others. "My wife wants to learn. She wants to be a part of this world, not just as my partner, but as an active player. And she will." A murmur of surprise swept through the room, but no one dared question him. Roman's authority was absolute. "But." He continued, turning back to me. "You need training. You need to understand what you're asking for. This isn't just about sitting in meetings. This is about survival, strategy, and power."

My heart sank, but I nodded, determination burning in my chest. "I'll teach you." Roman said, his voice quiet but firm. "But it won't be easy. You'll start in the gym. Self-defense. Physical training. You need to be prepared for anything, and that starts with knowing how to protect yourself." "Mr. Kirillov, but..." He looked at the men at the table.

Roman's sharp voice interrupted him. "That's enough." The room fell silent again. Roman's gaze softened as he settled on me again, looking me straight in the eyes. "I'll teach her everything. Myself." His words were final, an order no one dared to question.

"The meeting will end early. Melissa, go to the gym room. I'll meet you there when I'm done." I felt the weight of the moment settle on my shoulders. This was it. The beginning of something new, something dangerous. But this was exactly what I wanted. I nodded and walked out the door but I heard his voice from the room. "Just try to touch her and you're dead. All of you. Don't even talk about my woman like that. She's mine, understand?" Yes, this is definitely the beginning of what I wanted. Something new.

***

I arrived at the gym, a large room that the mafia often used for combat training and endurance training. The air was thick with the smell of sweat and rubber, and the sound of fists hitting heavy bags echoed off the walls. I quickly changed into my workout clothes, stretching nervously as I waited for Roman.

A few moments later, the door swung open and Roman walked in, his presence filling the room. He was dressed casually, but his posture exuded authority.

"Let's get started right away," he said, his voice holding both encouragement and challenge.

I nodded, trying to suppress the butterflies in my stomach from anticipation. Later in the gym, the air was thick with tension as I stood across from Roman. I was determined to prove myself, to show that I was more than capable of surviving in this cruel world.

We started with basic movement-blocking, dodging, striking. Roman's instruction was efficient and precise. He moved with a grace that made it all look easy, but his abrupt corrections reminded me how far I still had to go.

"Focus." He barked when I missed, quickly adjusting his posture.

The class continued, Roman pushing me harder with each passing minute. We moved from simple exercises to more complex sequences, sparring with intensity. I was exhausted, but determined to continue. I began to get used to it, feeling more in control of my movements, until...

Roman tossed me a knife, his eyes glittering with a mixture of challenge and affection. "Show me what you can do."

My fingers gripped the knife, my thoughts were confused but for some reason it seemed like I knew exactly how to control the knife. I knew this wasn't just training - this was a test.

Roman lunged at me, and I barely dodged him, the blade flashing between us. The fight was fast and intense, our bodies moving in sync, like a furious dance. But I was focused, determined to stand firm.

I blocked his attacks, my muscles burning with the effort. Just when I thought I had the upper hand, I slipped. The knife in my hand, meant for defense, suddenly found its way into Roman's side.

It happened in a split second.

Roman feinted, and I instinctively lunged forward. I hadn't forgotten which hand I had held the small training knife in, part of the drill they'd started earlier. In my mind, it was just muscle memory-block, strike, counter. But my aim was too perfect.

The sound of the blade cutting through flesh was barely audible over their heavy breathing, but to me it was deafening. I froze, my hand still clutching the hilt of the knife, and stared at Roman in horror.

He froze for a moment. His eyes, which had been sharp and focused a few moments ago, widened in surprise. My husband slowly looked down at the knife sticking out of his side, then back up at me.

Time seemed to stand still. Roman staggered back, clutching his wound with his hand, blood seeping through his fingers. My heart stopped as I rushed to him. "Roman... I didn't mean to..." I muttered, my voice barely audible.

Roman's face twisted in pain, but he smiled grimly. "Everything... is fine." He managed to say in a tense voice.

Panic washed over me. I had just stabbed him, stabbed him, and I wasn't even sure how bad the injury was. My training, what little I had, had never covered anything like this. What should I do? Pull the knife? Leave it?

Roman's knees buckled and he sank to the floor, clutching his side. Blood seeped through his fingers, staining his shirt a deep crimson. I fell to my knees next to him, my hands shaking.

"I'm so sorry," I repeated, my voice full of guilt and fear. "Krasavica." Roman said, his voice becoming a little more even. "Listen. You need to get the first aid kit... it's on the wall. Quickly."

I hesitated, still frozen in shock, but Roman's sharp tone snapped me out of it. I jumped to my feet and ran across the gym to grab the kit. When I returned, Roman was lying on his back, his breathing shallow but steady.

"Push." Roman ordered through clenched teeth. "Keep the knife in. If you pull it out, it will be worse."

I nodded, my hands still shaking as I pressed the gauze to the wound. Blood continued to leak out, but Roman's calm, authoritative voice kept me grounded. I did as I was told, working mechanically, trying to block out the fear that threatened to consume me entirely.

The minutes passed in a blur. Roman's breathing became ragged, and for the first time I noticed sweat trickling down his face. I cursed myself for my stupidity, for letting my adrenaline get the better of me.

But Roman was already laughing, his eyes shining with admiration. "You did well." He said, his voice tense but proud. "You did exactly what I taught you. Now you know what it's like to draw blood."

His hand touched my cheek, lightly smoothing it. "Sorry about this scar on your body." I whispered. "Don't even apologise." He laughed. "I'm impressed and just in heaven that someone like you is my wife."

"You are my beauty." He whispered and abruptly laid me down on his chest, pressing my head to him, so that I practically lay down too. "I will always be proud of you." "I have a secret." A tear rolled down my cheek but I began to calm down under his touch. "Which one?" He laid me completely under his side.

"This is the first time I've hurt someone and now I think I'm afraid of blood." "No. You're not afraid. Just remember that someone else's blood means nothing. You should only be afraid of your own blood and one day you might spill your blood for someone else." He kissed my forehead.

"Now you owe me a secret." "Oh, wanna know my secret?" I looked at him. "You're my sweetest poison." The words made me sit up. "Roman...what did you just say?" He sat down next to me, but a little slower. "Learn Russian and you'll find out, beauty." He brushed away a strand of my hair. "Asshole." I snorted. "We've been through this before." We were both drenched in sweat, our breathing heavy. Without saying a word, Roman hugged me tightly, sitting me on his lap, his heart pounding next to mine.

"You are dirty." His voice stopped me. "Take a shower." "If you think that it can help then you don't know that your wife is always dirty." "Show me everything what I can take, krasavica."

There was no need for words now, only a silent understanding that I had passed his test.