Page 87 of Dirty Game

"What am I?"

He pulls back to look at me, and his eyes are fierce with something that might be love. "You're the woman who found ten million dollars in my books and saved my empire from bleeding out. Who stands up to men twice her size without flinching. Who gave me her virginity like it was a gift instead of a transaction. Who stands on ledges in red dresses and makes me want to jump just to follow her down. Who makes me feel things I thought Sienna had killed in me."

"That's insane."

"So is love." The word hangs between us, heavy and real. "I love you, Rosalynn. Not because your uncle sold you to me. Not because you're mine by contract. Because you choose to be mine every day. Because you see my darkness and don't run. Because you make me want to be better than the monster I am."

"I love you too," I whisper, the words escaping before I can stop them. "Even with complicated ex-girlfriends and surprise children and a world that wants to destroy us."

He kisses me again, softer now, and helps me fix my appearance as best we can.

My hair is beyond saving, wild around my face. My lips are swollen, my neck marked with his teeth.

Anyone who sees us will know exactly what we've been doing, but it doesn’t matter.

The only thing that matters is the fact that we’re together.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Varrick

The lobby is quiet as we make our way back downstairs.

I walk point, Rosalynn walking half a pace behind me, arms folded in and eyes flicking to every movement.

She’s nervous, but she’s here, and a strange pride fills me knowing she’s combating her fear for me.

Before we get to the front, I move Rosalynn slightly to my right, a half step in front of me. An equal.

Myequal.

Mikhail is waiting, hands in his pockets, a sick sneer spread over his face.

Sienna’s at his elbow, looking every bit the cunt she always was, her lips drawn into a secret smile.

The boy stands between them, a living ransom note, with dark hair, loose at the crown, and the same eyes as the man he’s never met.

For a long second, nobody speaks.

Mikhail’s gaze slides over Rosalynn and lands on me. “You keep her in front, King. Smart. Most men put their queens behind. Easier to take out when there’s no eyes on them.”

I don’t blink. “I’m not most men. And I’m not playing chess.”

His mouth quirks, like he wants to laugh but doesn’t know how. Sienna cuts in before he can retort: “You remember our son, Varrick?”

The words hit with a fist, but I barely move.

The boy looks up at me… calculating, not scared.

Not quite. He’s weary.

What the fuck did she tell him about me?

Sienna’s hand drops to his shoulder in a gesture meant to comfort, but really, it’s a warning.

Don’t run. Don’t speak. Don’t trust.

Rosalynn sees the resemblance first.