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Laya: They’re already in love with each other. I can’t thank you enough for setting this up.

Niko: I’m so happy to hear that and can’t wait to meet Leo!

I could picture him in his office, grinning from ear to ear. My handsome husband, who made all of this happen.

Laya: You’re the best, Niko. I love you.

My fingers hesitated for a brief second before sending the message, then I pressed “send.”

I slipped the phone back into my pocket as my heart pounded. I had never expressed those words to anyone before, but now they existed in text—an impulsive burst of honesty.

Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit.

I waited for a reply, but nothing came, and a lump settled in the pit of my stomach.

Dammit Laya, that was too soon.

As we headed home with Leo trotting happily between us, I couldn’t shake the feeling of standing on the edge of an emotional precipice, all because of the reckless need to share my emotions.

Fourteen

NIKOLAS

You’re the best, Niko. I love you.

Laya’s simple declaration echoed in my mind, repeating each syllable like a soothing melody.

I kept repeating them to myself:I love you.

Was it real? Had I misinterpreted her confession due to her habit of texting her sisters throughout the day, a potential impulsive mistake?

It seemed so simple, right?

Love was a dangerous, off-limits territory I had tried to avoid, yet her message awakened something that was an exhilarating mix of excitement and deep-seated terror within me.

Three little words, but they carried overwhelming power.

I found myself rereading her text over and over. Each glance at the glowing screen was a desperate attempt to convince myself that my heart wasn’t just deceiving me.

But it blared back like a bright neon sign every time, impossible to ignore.

Laya was an unstoppable force in bed, full of passion and wild energy. Yet, we had never allowed anything so emotional to slip into the air between us during our heated physical moments. I exhaled slowly and took a calming breath, attempting to navigate the whirlwind of emotions within me.

Some part of me wanted her to truly mean it.

I wanted her love.

What did that reveal about me?

Was I exposing a weakness—a need for love that undermined the tough persona I’d constructed?

The haunting memory of losing Mama and Cora surged forward, cruelly reminding me of the cost of love. Love meant loss, and the thought of losing Layana was an agony I wasn’t ready to face again.

How might my position in the world shift if I desired something more from her than mere physical satisfaction? And did I even love her in return? If I did, it might signal the beginning of my downfall.

Being in love left me exposed, especially around my enemies. Even my brothers might see it as a flaw. Love, with its inherent tenderness and fragility, made me vulnerable to losing something I cherished or having it used against me.

Previously, I’d thrived on the harsh freedom of having nothing precious to lose. That fierce independence was my greatest advantage, a barrier against adversaries who could never inflict as much pain as someone I loved deeply could. Now, that threat loomed over me like a shadow.