I was just thinking...you can't live without my book, I can't live without writing so why I need to stop this? Exactly. (Yeah, your Jannel changed her mind again.)

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Melissa "Turning points."

I was lying in a deep claw-footed bathtub, warm water enveloping my legs each time my toes opened and closed the tap. I quietly sighed, watching the steam rise and swirl toward the ceiling. The soft light in the bathroom cast shadows on the tiles, reminding me of evenings spent alone, where the only company was my thoughts. The sound of the water gently echoed around, washing over the blood-stained bath from earlier.

I extended my leg and pressed the cold brass faucet again. With a light push, the water gushed out, splashing and rippling around my body. It was a simple movement, but it reminded me of a scene from *The Notebook*, a movie I had watched years ago with Natasha, where a woman tried to escape her feelings but always came back to them. It made me wonder if that was my story too—always caught in a whirl of emotions.

Except, I wasn't in a wedding dress, nor was I heartbroken over seeing a picture of my first love who had built the house of our dreams. I was in the shirt of my almost ex-husband, the man I was still in love with... and who had slept with me last night. Then, I had simply killed poor Kate, who had been after him, and now, with her body wrapped in sheets and Roman and Lyn gone to deal with the problem, I was trying to understand why I had trusted him so easily.

That night, six years ago, when he proposed to me for the second time, I believed it. That someone like Roman could love, but it turned out it was all just my fantasy or part of another one of his plans.

He said nothing. He just distanced himself. We stopped going on dates, stopped having dinner together, and had sex so rarely that it felt like I was forcing him into it. At first, I thought he was really busy at work. But when he started coming home late every night, smelling more strongly of alcohol, like any woman, I thought of a mistress. But no.

And so it continued for another four years. Like *Groundhog Day*. I woke up alone, went to training, killed traitors, tortured the necessary people, and became the best of the best. The queen of snakes. But returning to the empty bedroom, I became the forgotten wife, held only by a drunk husband near dawn. But there are things you're not ready to forgive, and you decide to run away from it all, knowing that you might be killed for betrayal.

The water kept flowing, and I repeated the foot movement over and over—up and down—as I sank deeper into the cold bath but still felt the warmth of the water below. The room seemed to embrace me, muffling the outside world. Until I heard a voice.

"Enjoying yourself in there?"

My eyes snapped open. Dean. His voice was unmistakable, warm, with a teasing note. I hadn't even heard him open the door. I turned my head and saw him standing casually in the doorway, leaning against the frame, arms crossed, with a slight smile on his lips. His presence was unexpected yet familiar, like the support I needed but hadn't realized.

"Dean." I said, startled, pulling the shirt tighter and stopping the movement of my foot, although the setting had more than ensured my modesty.

He raised an eyebrow. "Relax, Mel. You're covered enough, and I don't think you're the modest type."

I rolled my eyes, a faint smile forming on my lips. "Do you always intrude on other people's personal moments?"

"I knocked." Dean responded nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders. "But you didn't answer, so I figured you were either asleep or drowning."

"Well, as you can see, neither." I shifted slightly in the tub, sitting on the edge. "What's going on?"

Dean's smile softened. "Just came to check on you before Roman and Lyn return. You've been in here a while. Is everything okay?"

I hesitated. Something always gnawed at me inside, emotions I couldn't express. But Dean, despite us knowing each other only recently, had an uncanny ability to see right through me. It was both unsettling and comforting.

"Yeah." I answered, though the word felt hollow. "Just needed to think."

He nodded, taking a step into the room but maintaining a respectful distance. "Do you want to talk about it?"

I looked at him, considering the offer but unsure where to start. "It's nothing. Really."

Dean didn't push. He never did. Instead, he moved to the bathroom window and cracked it open slightly, letting in fresh air. The cool breeze mixed with the warmth of the bath, and I closed my eyes again, allowing myself to relax for a moment.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked softly, his voice no longer teasing but sincere, as if he understood I was battling something inside.

I sighed, leaning my head back against the wall. "Just... life. The usual."

Dean chuckled. "Since when did you become so vague? Or did this all start after Roman slept with you?"

I smirked, though the smile didn't reach my eyes. "Shut up." I opened one eye and saw him watching me closely. "Maybe it's just that everything feels too complicated lately. Including what happened last night."

Dean moved closer, slowly, as if afraid of scaring away my openness, and sat on the edge of the tub next to me. His eyes met mine when I opened the other eye. "You don't have to figure it all out right now, you know. It's okay to let things be a mess for a while."

For the first time, I felt gratitude toward someone. "You make it sound so easy."

"It's not easy," Dean said, his gaze serious. "But you don't have to go through it alone."

"You're right. But people like me don't know what it means to have friends."

"My God!" He theatrically clutched at his chest. "You consider me a friend? I'm going to cry right now."

"And I'm going to hit you right now." I shoved his shoulder. "But you're right. Want to be my first friend?"

He immediately stopped fooling around and, with all seriousness, stood up—though he wasn't Dean without adding a bow. "It would be an honor, Your Majesty."

I laughed genuinely and climbed out of the bath to curtsy. "And I would be happy to be your friend, my lord."

I froze when he hugged me, unsure of what to do.

"Why didn't you have friends?" he asked when my body finally relaxed, and my arms wrapped around his broad back.

"Isn't it obvious? Every guy or girl wanted to be with me, or every girl wanted me."

"Sounds like a perfect reason for breakfast." He hugged me tighter.

"Enough of this already." I pushed him away. "But nothing will save me better than pancakes with chocolate."

Our eyes met for a moment, and I felt something shift inside me, something I wasn't ready to face yet. But I already had. I turned away, avoiding his gaze.

"And thank you, Dean." I said quietly.

Dean stepped back as well, sensing I needed space. "It seems you've really decided to kill me with words now that you've apologized." Dean walked past me toward the door. "Finish up and come down for breakfast when you're ready. Grab one of Lyn's dresses to change into."

I nodded, watching him leave and carefully close the door behind him. And I grinned devilishly at the closed door. Yes, there were girls who didn't want their boyfriends to be mine. Yes, there were those who wanted to be with me. But there was Leah, whom I figured out during my nightly thoughts. But I knew two things for sure: she wasn't working alone, and she was indeed a fool because it didn't take me long to open my eyes after my encounter with Roman, who wouldn't find out for quite some time what I already knew.

***

Later, at breakfast downstairs in the hotel, Dean and I sat at a small table by the window. Sunlight flooded the room, casting a golden glow on the pristine white tablecloth. The sound of cutlery and the quiet hum of voices filled the air, contrasting with the storm of thoughts in my head. What? Being smart is hard. No thoughts, no results.

"So." Dean began, taking a sip of coffee. "You still haven't told me what's bothering you."

I fidgeted with the corner of the napkin, my gaze fixed on the view outside the window. "I already regret making you my friend." I snorted. "It's just... I don't know how to explain it. Sometimes it feels like I'm stuck between two lives, and I can't fully commit to either one of them. Before I ran away, there was life before Roman and after. And now, before I hated him and after."

"No one can help you with Roman until you tell the reason you ran away and talk to him." Dean placed his cup back on the table, slightly leaning toward me. "But two lives?"

I slowly nodded. "One part of me wants stability, to settle down, have a normal life. That's what I felt when I ran away. But the other part craves something else, something more. Something bad. It's what fuels my passion and the essence of my life. It's like a drug to me."

Dean's eyes softened as if he understood. "You know, you don't have to choose between them. You can have both."

I looked at him doubtfully. "Really? Because it doesn't seem that way to me."

Dean took my hand, gently squeezing my fingers. "You can. It's all about balance. You just need to understand what it means for you."

I sighed, squeezed his hand for a moment, and then let go. "I wish it were that simple." After all, it also depends on the person or even the people around you.

"It's not simple," my new friend agreed. "But that doesn't mean it's impossible."

We continued breakfast in relative silence, the unspoken tension between us still hanging in the air but not suffocating. Dean didn't pressure me, and I appreciated that about him. He gave me space, even when it was obvious that I needed someone to pull me out of the deep waters I had drowned myself in.

As we were almost finished, I suddenly remembered something. My purse. I had a small bag for my phone and documents. "Dean? Did I give you my purse yesterday?" My voice sounded strange. Nervous. "No, you had it with you." I closed my eyes, cursing everyone.

Because that meant I left it in Roman's room last night. I was so lost in my thoughts that it completely slipped my mind. I mean the purse, not Roman. And I hope they haven't returned yet.

"I'll be right back," I said abruptly, standing up from the table. Dean looked at me with concern. "Where are you going?" "I just... I forgot my purse upstairs. I'll be quick." "Don't rush. You might accidentally sleep with your husband again." "Fuck you." I turned and gave him the middle finger. "You don't rush either, or the love of your life might come down for breakfast." I smirked as I heard him to say: "I'm already enjoying our friendship." And there's one thing I can admit today—I am too.

***

I didn't hesitate as I confidently made my way to his room. It seemed that despite the memories of the past clouding my mind, I had stopped being so nervous. Maybe. It's just a purse. But still, after last night, I felt out of place, and meeting Roman was the last thing I wanted.

Taking a deep breath, I knocked softly. The door opened almost immediately, and Roman stood before me with an impassive expression.

"Let me guess..." He bit his lip, looking at my appearance, clearly displeased that I was no longer wearing his shirt. "Either you came to kill me with that same shard..." My gaze immediately noticed the shard gleaming too brightly in his hand. "Or you forgot something when there was nothing because you don't remember?"

"Yes." I tried to maintain a casual tone, hiding my anger. "My purse. I must have dropped it by accident."

"By accident?" Roman stepped aside mischievously, letting me in. The room was exactly as I had left it, but now it felt colder. I quickly found my purse on the chair and grabbed it, eager to leave as soon as possible.

"Roman." I began, turning toward him. "About last night..." I immediately regretted opening my mouth because as soon as I got too close to him, while he was still standing by the door, Roman grabbed my throat with his free hand, tightly squeezing it.

"By accident? No, krasavica. When I pressed you against the door like this, that's when you dropped your purse." "And what now?" I tried to gasp for air. "Go on." I hissed. "Slit my throat. Let me bleed out in this alleyway. Let my blood splatter on your shoes." His grip loosened a little. "Do you give up so easily?" He grinned. "No, but you know if I'm gone, no one will ever be next to you." "You are against me," He corrected. "But I'm the reason your life isn't so boring." "Not so boring? You drive me fucking crazy."

"That's exactly why you shouldn't threaten me when I have this kind of power over you, Roma." With one swift motion, I threw the shard between us and grabbed his hand, which was still on my throat, with my other hand.

"And you think I don't have power over you?" His whisper became dangerously seductive, making my pulse race, and I breathed even heavier. "Yes." I surprised myself with my words. "You're right. And do you know why you have power over me, Roman Kirillov? Because as long as I hate you, I'm always drawn to you just to crush you like dirt under my new heels." I started to gasp for air again. "That's exactly why last night meant nothing."

He shook his head, allowing me to experience a strange mix of lightness from his feelings. But when he let me go and even stepped back, taking a step away, I was overwhelmed with confusion. "Oh, so now you're the one giving up?"

Roman's gaze darkened, and he took another step back, raising his hands in the air. "Oh no, I'm just giving you what you wanted. A choice." He smirked. Crooked. Dirty and sinful. "But when your pretty little legs bring you back to me, when you crave me, know the door is always open. I'll be waiting because I know you'll come..." Roman leaned forward, his breath warm on my skin, even from a small distance. "Krasavica."

Before I could respond, as if I hadn't just become aroused, my phone rang in my purse, interrupting the tension. I fumbled to pull it out, glancing at the screen. It was the kindergarten. The triplets. What the hell?

"Hello?" "Hello, this is the teacher from the daycare. You see, the triplets Josie, Jane, and Gianna said to call their aunt. And really, this concerns you more than their parents." "M-me? M-Me?" "Yes. As I said, we usually call the parents when something happens, but they said you're the closest to them, so we need you to come for a conversation with me this evening." What? Apparently, my nieces had clearly done something because if my brother or his wife found out, it would be bad. "Okay." I hung up and turned to Roman. "We need to go to the kindergarten together. We urgently need to return to New York." "We?" "As long as they're also your nieces while you're my husband, I'm not surviving this weird place alone. And I don't care that you've never seen them." "Why the hell do you even need to go there?" "Because... my nieces are very smart. As their aunt, of course." "In my experience, their future husbands will be in big big trouble." And from my experience, two killers, strange psychopaths from the mafia in kindergarten is not the best thing that can happen in a child's life. But it'll be fun. Or not. Or it will be a complete disaster.