Page 17

YULIAN

When I open my eyes, she’s there.

The woman I chose. The woman who’s carrying my child.

The woman I almost lost.

You haven’t gotten her back yet, a dark, sneering voice reminds me. Somehow, it sounds like Desya’s. You lied to her, remember? Didn’t even apologize.

No. But she’s here in my arms now, and that’s what counts.

I let my fingers travel over her smooth skin. Count her freckles, one by one, to pass the time while she’s asleep. It’s barely dawn, but I know I won’t be able to doze off again. Too many thoughts, too much chaos inside my head.

But that doesn’t mean she can’t rest.

She needs it. I can see it in the bags under her eyes, the tired pull of muscles on her face. Taut, even in slumber, like she’s constantly fighting off nightmares. Like she hasn’t had a decent night’s sleep in months.

Knowing Brad’s temper, that’s probably accurate.

Brad. The fucking mudak. If I’d had my way, he’d be food for worms right now.

With all of yesterday’s mayhem, I haven’t had time to check my email, either. Haven’t had the time to even sit down at the office. Mia’s materials should already be there by now. If there’s anything in there that can put Bradley Baldwin at least metaphorically in the ground…

It’ll be my fucking pleasure to grab the shovel.

My fingers stroke Mia’s hair, her cheek. Eventually, they brush against her lips, red and kiss-bruised.

I let my thoughts wander to last night. What we did felt incredible. Most of all, it felt right.

Mia belongs to me. She belongs at my side, pregnant with my child, fucked and full of me. She’s staying—that’s final. I’ll protect her from Brad, from Desya, from the whole goddamn world.

But what if you’re the one she needs to be protected from?

Guilt twists at my insides. But the possessive spark Mia lit up in me smothers every other thought.

She’s mine.

And I’ll be damned if I let anyone hurt her ever again.

I don’t realize she’s stirring until her blue eyes blink open. “Good morning,” she yawns.

“Morning.”

“Do I have something on my face?” Her lips quirk mischievously. “You keep staring at me.”

“You don’t.” I roll us over so I’m on top of her. “But that can be arranged.”

Her eyes go dark. She’s fucking delicious—all of her is. “Is that so?”

I’m hard as a rock. After a full night of sex, I still want more of her. No woman has ever made me feel like this. Like I could spend forever buried between her thighs.

But before I can make good on my promise, a voice rings out from the kitchen. “Mommy! Are you in the bathroom?”

Mia turns to stone. “Shit.” Then she takes in her naked state. “Shit!”

“Take my gym clothes,” I say, rolling off her. “Second-bottom drawer.”

She bolts from the bed like lightning.

“Mommyyy?”

“Coming, sweetie!”

I make myself decent, too.

Mia slips into my ensuite and comes out the guest door. She’s wearing a black pair of rolled-up shorts and a white t-shirt, tied off at the waist. Somehow, she’s even managed to make her walk of shame look stylish.

“Morning,” she calls out, all motherly. “You’re up early.”

“Where were you?” Eli pouts. “I went to your room, and you weren’t there.”

“I, uhh?—”

“Shower’s broken,” I cut in. “Your mom was asking if she could borrow mine.”

“Oh,” Eli says. “Okay, then. Since you’re awake, can you make pancakes?”

Laughter bubbles up to Mia’s lips. “Of course.”

She grabs a bowl and starts cracking eggs like it’s nobody’s business. I watch her hips sway as she works, a happy tune flowing from her lips.

Happy. That’s how it’s supposed to be. Mia and her children, here in my home, happy and safe.

No one is going to ruin that. No ghost from my past or hers.

Eli trots back to his bedroom to get dressed. I walk up to Mia to put an arm around her waist?—

“You sure as hell don’t get to demand my forgiveness. Not when you haven’t even apologized.”

—and I stop.

What’s wrong? that cruel, sneering voice inside of me teases. Go to her. Wrap her around your finger again. It’ll be so easy now.

She’s fallen for Brad’s lies. She’s fallen for yours once already. Why not make that twice?

Why not make her yours?

“Yulian?”

I snap back to reality. “What’s that?”

“I asked if you wanted some.”

I blink and realize she’s holding a tower of pancakes now. Round, golden, perfect.

“No.” I shake my head. “Just coffee.”

“Thought so.” Mia gives a knowing grin. “You’re the black coffee and bacon strips type of guy, minus the bacon.”

“Bacon is bad for your heart.”

“All the best things are bad for your heart.” She bites into a pancake, held between two dainty fingers. “Doesn’t mean they’re not worth it.”

Her words stick into me long after we’ve sat down to eat.

I’m not the type to hesitate. Never been. In my line of work, hesitation gets you killed or worse.

But right now, I’m hesitating. I can feel my old programming pushing me to claim Mia in every way that matters. To disregard her wishes for space and break through her flimsy walls.

But for some reason, part of me doesn’t want to do that. It’s resisting—refusing.

It’s the first time that’s happened to me.

“—lian?”

“What?”

“Are you sure you’re awake?” It’s Eli’s voice, scolding me. “You’re spacing out like craaazy. Do you want some of my meds?”

“Eli, what did we say?” Mia cuts in with her Mom Tone.

Her son pouts. “Ritalin isn’t candy,” he mumbles.

“Good boy. Now, go brush your teeth. We’re leaving in ten.”

Eli jumps down from his stool. Once he’s out of sight, Mia reaches for his plate. For a split second, her hand brushes mine.

She blushes, but quickly ducks away to hide it. “He’s not wrong,” she mumbles from the sink. “You are acting weird.”

“I’m fine.”

“I know you’ve got a lot on your mind. I just wanted to make sure this wasn’t… you know…” her cheeks color harder. “About last night. I know I said I needed space, and I still do, but I don’t want you to think that?—”

“Your email.”

She blinks. “What?”

“I was thinking I haven’t read your email yet. The one with your findings on Brad. I’ll do it today at the office.”

“Oh!” Her pupils do something weird then: they shrink. “Th-that’s alright. I didn’t actually send it. Sorry, I should’ve told you.”

I frown. “I thought you wanted to find blackmail as soon as possible.”

“I do!” Her voice pitches higher. “But the files in the flash drive, they were… they were corrupted. All of them. So I just threw it away.”

“You threw it away ?”

“I know, I know, you’re not supposed to toss electronics in the regular trash, but?—”

“That’s not it.” I rise, eyes narrowed. “You should have talked to me. Tikhon could have still recovered something.”

“I’m sorry. I had no idea.” She hangs her head at my harsh tone. “I just—I guess I wanted to be done with it. All of it.”

Right. I let the tension out of my face, muscles relaxing once more. Mia’s been through enough of Brad’s craziness. It’s no wonder she wants it to be over.

I put my hand on her shoulder. She doesn’t flinch, exactly, but her eyes dart worriedly over to my hand, as if expecting it’ll turn into a slap.

It makes rage boil inside me—how badly Brad damaged her.

Just three months, and her old programming is back with a vengeance, making her afraid of her own shadow.

Or mine.

“Next time, talk to me.” I smooth the edges of my tone, try to sound encouraging instead of reproachful. It doesn’t come naturally to me, but Mia has a knack for making me do things I’d never have dreamed of before. Things like comforting. “We’ll find a solution together.”

“Okay,” she whispers. “Thank you. Really. For everything.”

“That’s better.”

“What?”

“You were saying sorry again. Now, you’re saying thank you.” My palm finds her heated cheek. “It suits you better.”

She swallows, hard. I can see her throat bob with the motion. “That’s not what you said before.”

“What did I say before?”

“That gratitude looks dangerous on me.”

Her pupils are blown again, black with desire. I can feel my own body stirring, reacting to her words of seduction like a plucked string.

I lean in, lips brushing hers?—

DING-DONG!

—and the doorbell rings.

“I’ll get that,” she says, her breath mingling with mine.

It takes all of my willpower to let her go. But Eli’s going to come back anytime, and there’s no telling when Nikita will wake up, either. Whatever our bodies are telling us to do, it’ll have to wait until later.

Later. I’ve never hated a word more.

“Yes?” Mia says, swinging open the door?—

“Good morning, Ms. Winters.”

—and then her face goes white.

Because, standing on the other side, is Howard fucking Lee.