Page 59 of Claimed By the Boss

“That was incredible,” she whispers.

“That was just the start,” I promise.

19

LYRA

The days slip past slow and unhurried. I’ve stopped checking the time altogether. I haven’t touched my phone in days, and I haven’t missed it at all. Out here, there’s no schedule, no deadlines, no stress whatsoever. Apart from checking in with Becca via email to tell her I’m safe and I’ll be home soon, I haven’t had any contact with the outside world. And it’s been surprisingly wonderful.

Damien and I sleep in late, and when we wake, it’s to the sound of the ocean or the rustle of palm leaves brushing the windows. Some mornings, he pulls me into him before I can even speak, kissing my shoulder or my throat, as if he can’t wake up until he’s tasted my skin. Other mornings, we just lie there tangled in the sheets, holding each other. He makes me feel safe and seen, which makes the secret I’m holding feel even heavier.

I still haven’t said anything about the baby. Every time I try, the words catch in my throat. I tell myself it’s not the right moment, that I’ll do it later. Later never comes.

Truthfully, I’m afraid. If I tell him, he’ll probably shut down. He’ll pull away with that cool, unreadable expression he wearswhen something displeases him. He’ll look at me and see only a problem that needs to be solved.

With his money, it would be easy for him to write me off for good. He could buy me a house somewhere far away and tell me never to contact him again. He could give me a golden parachute and disappear from my life as if he never existed. Hell, he could leave me alone on this island in a stunning villa with a staff at my beck and call.

But I’d lose him.

So I keep my mouth shut.

Instead, I let myself fall into the fantasy.

I swim in the sea while he watches from the shore, arms folded, mouth curved in that rare smile that makes my heart clench. We eat fruit so fresh it tastes unreal, drink lemonade by the pool, and fall asleep to the sound of the ocean through open windows. He touches me constantly, his hand always finding mine, or his fingers running absentmindedly down my back or along my arms.

I want to be his escape, not his burden.

And that’s what this place is for us. An escape.

Here, there’s no such thing as the Bratva. In fact, we’re so removed from reality, I start to wonder if any of that is even true. I’ve never seen him do anything illegal, not directly. He’s gentle with me, and so kind. Other than that first day at the office, with the men with guns, and the brutal way he handled Rick, I haven’t actually seen anything that proves what Becca told me.

Besides, Rick deserved it.

When I’m in Damien’s arms, the world narrows to just the two of us, to his breath on my neck, his hand sliding along my hip, the steady thud of his heart beneath my cheek. It’s easy to pretend there’s no danger here. And if there’s no danger here, maybe none exists at all.

Tonight, we walk the beach after dinner, our fingers laced together, toes sinking into the cool sand. The sky is lavender and navy, the last hints of sunset painting the horizon. He’s been quiet, but it’s been a comfortable silence. We don’t need constant chatter to feel close to one another.

“I’ve only been here once,” he says, his voice low.

I glance at him, finding that hard to believe. “Really?”

He nods, eyes on the sea. “I bought this place to disappear. No calls. No meetings. No bullshit. Just the ocean and the silence. But before I met you, I could never really force myself to leave the world behind even for a few days.”

I squeeze his hand and sigh happily. “I wish we could leave the world behind forever.”

He looks down at me, and his mouth tilts into a small smile. “Me too.”

We keep walking. At one point, I let go of his hand and wade into the shallows, water lapping at my calves. He watches from the edge of the surf. When I come back in, he kisses my forehead and pulls me close, and we stand there like that for a long time. Finally, we let go, and he leads me to a hidden part of the beach.

The sky becomes velvet. The stars pop out and twinkle like they’re putting on a show. Moonlight spills across the sand,painting the beach in silver and shadows. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.

Damien lays out a blanket and starts unpacking the bag he brought with him. First, he pulls out a bottle of wine and two glasses. Then he takes out an assortment of fresh fruit, cheeses, and a divine-looking chocolate dessert.

He sits on the blanket and reaches a hand out to invite me to join him, his eyes half-lidded as he watches me approach. His expression is so soft and unguarded. Gone is the man who commands rooms. He’s been replaced by someone silent and contemplative, who buries his bare toes in the sand like he’s part of the landscape.

We haven’t talked about tomorrow. This week has been such a magical getaway, but that’s no guarantee of what our lives will be like when we get back home.

I don’t want to ruin the quiet. So I walk over to him barefoot, wearing nothing but a thin white dress that sticks to my skin in the humid air. The hem flutters against my thighs as I step onto the blanket, and his gaze lifts to meet mine. He doesn’t speak. He just reaches for my hand and pulls me gently down to him. I settle between his legs, my back to his chest, and he wraps his arms around me protectively.