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“It was my fault,” she countered.
“It was the fucking senator’s fault,” I concluded.
“That’s true,” she agreed. “And I still haven’t gotten the recording to anyone,” she said. “At this rate, I won’t live long enough to get it done.”
“Nothing like this is going to happen again,” I told her.
“Cinna said it’s more complicated than that. Because the Bratva got so big so fast. And they’re notoriously ruthless.”
“She’s not wrong. But I mean that you are going to be safe. No more just having one guard around. From now on, there will be two guys outside of the apartment, another two in the hallway, and either Cinna or Saff in the apartment with you and Islah.”
“For what?” Elizabeth asked. “Ever?
“If that’s what needs to happen, yeah. But I’m hopeful that once it’s clear you’re no longer working for the senator, and when the senator himself starts to fall from grace, they’re going to just let you be.”
“You really think that’s going to happen?”
Not necessarily.
“Knowing that you’re not under our protection, but that you belong to me, might help,” I told her.
“I belong to you?” she asked, angling her head up to look at me.
“That’s how I’m feeling about things,” I said, nodding. “But it’s obviously up to you.”
“I think I’ve wanted that for a while, but I’ve been worried I’m going to need to leave.”
“You’re not going anywhere. Unless you decide you want to. I’m going to find a way to keep you safe right here for as long as you want to be here.”
“But—“
“I think you have been worrying enough about everything lately,” I cut her off. “How about we think about other things for a while?”
“Like the fact that I’m starving?” she asked, shooting me a guilty look. “I feel like I shouldn’t be hungry after everything that happened today, but…”
“But you’re a human being who hasn’t had anything to eat since breakfast,” I filled in for her. “Besides, I’m sure Serano, Rico, Saff, and Islah are hungry too. Sure I got enough to still make that bolognese, if you want a little distraction.”
“God, yes,” she said, starting to roll away.
Reaching out, I grabbed her, pulling her back onto her back, so I could lean over her, sealing my lips to hers.
It wasn’t a kiss with expectation for more.
Just long, deep, lingering.
Until we both, in unison, broke apart, knowing we needed to put an end to it unless we wanted an audience.
“Islah,” Elizabeth said, rushing toward my sister who was cuddled up on the couch, still awake, but eyes still small with pain. “How are you?” she asked, squatting down in front of the couch, reaching out to put her hand on top of my sister’s.
“I’m okay,” Islah said, weakly. “My head hurts,” she admitted.
“Well, I have a whole arsenal for that,” Elizabeth said, forcing some pep into her words as she rushed back into the guest room, finding one of her bags, and bringing it out with her. “How about we try a cooling sheet?” she asked, pulling out a box, and removing something that was packaged a bit like a bandaid, then flattening it across Islah’s forehead. “These sometimes help my migraines,” she told her.
“That feels good,” Islah said, nodding.
“And I have these nifty green sunglasses that help with light sensitivity,” Elizabeth went on, placing them on the end table since the coffee table was missing. “Earplugs. Don’t underestimate these. They can be a lifesaver,” she said, letting them join the sunglasses.
“Also, ginger and peppermints, for nausea,” she went on. “Scalp massager… probably isn’t a good idea,” she decided, sticking that back in the bag. “But, oh, this,” she said, producing something that was shaped like a sleep mask, but was big and plastic. “This is pure luxe. It massages your forehead and eyes. Just hit this button to turn off the music because that makes it worse.”