Page 44

CHAPTER 44

DINARA

I let out a groan, stretching across the soft bed. The remnants of the nightmare are now gone, leaving me with a sense of relief and ease. It’s like the grip it had on me loosened as soon as he held me. Like in his arms, I was safe.

When I open my eyes, the spot beside me is empty, and a pang of longing tugs at my chest.

Did he have to work this morning? Does he even have a set routine?

I realize I have no idea what his days look like. He’s still a mystery in so many ways.

I decide a shower is the best way to start the day, but as I step through the adjoining door to my room and pull open a drawer, I freeze. My clothes are gone.

“What the hell?” Frantically, I go through every drawer, then rushing to the closet. But nothing. None of my clothes are here.

Confusion stirs in my head. I quickly make my way back to his bedroom, wondering if he decided to move me into his room permanently. Knowing my husband, I wouldn’t be all that surprised.

When I open the walk-in closet door, a scoff escapes me. Of course he did. My things are here, filling an entire half of the closet. Neatly hung, organized, everything in its place.

When did he even have time to do this? It’s so early.

I move toward his dresser, finding the right side completely filled with my clothes, carefully folded.

He really did this. Presumptuous as ever.

Grabbing a pair of leggings and a tank top, I head to the bathroom. When I turn on the shower, steam quickly fills the space. Stripping down, I step inside, letting the warm water run over me.

A minute later, the bathroom door creaks open, and through the misted glass, I see him. He strides toward me, and before I can react, he effortlessly slides the shower door open, his gaze dragging down my body with a heady grin.

“What are you doing?” I gasp, trying to shield myself. But it’s no use.

“Conserving water.” He smirks, casually slipping off his sweats and throwing his shirt over his head as I look away.

My face flushes as he pushes me aside playfully, letting the water pour down his glorious, tanned back. It’s impossible to ignore the taut lines of his body, the muscles shifting as he reaches up, letting the spray hit his face.

“Don’t worry,” he says from over his shoulder with a twinge of amusement. “I’m not even looking at you.”

But I’m definitely looking at you .

Heat rushes to my face as I quickly look away.

But when he turns toward me, that’s when I see it…

My pulse stutters, and this time, I can’t look away.

A tattoo stretches across his chest, bold and intricate, the black and red weaving together in a striking design. And it isn’t just the artwork that sends my head spinning. It’s what’s written there.

My name. Wrapped in the coiled body of a snake, entangled with red roses, etched over his heart. The sight nearly knocks the air from my lungs.

My gaze snaps to his. “What’s that?”

His lips twitch. “A tattoo.”

A sudden lump forms in my throat, making it hard to speak. “When did you…why?”

He exhales slowly, his amusement fading into something deeper. Cupping my cheek, he tilts my face up, forcing me to see the sincerity burning in his eyes.

“After you left.” His voice is low, reverent. “I needed you, and this was the only way I could have you. The only way I could carry you with me wherever I went.”

A shuddering breath escapes me, tears burning behind my eyes. I reach for it, tracing the ink, feeling the steady drum of his heartbeat beneath my touch.

“I can’t believe you did this.” My gut tightens.

And then it dawns on me: I hadn’t seen him shirtless since I came back. Not once.

He studies me, waiting, but I can’t seem to find the right words.

Instead, he grabs the shampoo and squeezes some into his palm. “Turn around.”

That commanding edge in his tone sends a jolt through my limbs, pulling me right back to the first time we met. I move before I even realize it.

The moment his fingers slide into my hair, massaging my scalp, my eyes flutter shut, a sigh slipping past my lips. His hands are slow, deliberate, working the lather into me. When he rinses me off, his touch lingers, gliding down my body, brushing over my breasts.

My breath catches.

This feels too good to stop. His hands are electric, fingertips skimming down my stomach before barely grazing my core. A sharp throb of heat jolts through me, leaving me breathless, frantic for more.

The ache turns unrelenting, so needy I crave him like my life depends on it.

“I thought you weren’t looking at me,” I whisper as his fingertips glide over my skin in a slow, tantalizing rhythm, like a dance of pure seduction.

“Never said anything about touching.” His gravelly baritone sends a rush of heat through my body, igniting a chaotic mix of lust and temptation.

He picks up my sponge, lathering it up before dragging it over my skin with deliberate care. His pace is unhurried, almost reverent, as he washes me, then gently turns me to face him. Lifting one of my legs, he rests it on the edge of the shower, his darkened gaze locked on mine as the sponge slithers up my inner thigh, teasing, torturing, until it reaches the place I ache for him most. A breathless moan escapes me, my control slipping beneath his expert hands.

He takes his time, his expression hooded, drinking in every reaction as waves of sensation ripple through me, leaving me trembling.

“I think you’re clean now.” A mischievous smirk tugs at his lips, while my body screams for more—more of what I won’t let him give me.

Not yet.

Placing the sponge aside, he pulls me under the cascading water, washing my hair clean, his hard chest pressing flush against my back. His strong hands roam my skin, igniting something deeper. Something dangerous. Something I may not be able to resist much longer.

“Why did you move my things?” I finally remember to ask as he shuts off the water and grabs a towel to dry me.

“You think I’d let you go back to sleeping alone after that nightmare?” His voice is low as he dries me slowly, his jaw tightening when his gaze flickers to my chest.

His words send a warmth spreading through me. He cared. He was worried about me. That’s what this is.

A small smile trembles on my lips. “Thank you.”

“Don’t ever thank me for taking care of you. I enjoy it…” He grabs my jaw, his thumb brushing over my mouth. “Very much.”

As his hand drifts downward, I find it hard to catch my breath, my gut coiling tighter with every passing second.

He finishes drying me off like he didn’t just unravel me. I step out of the shower first, him close behind me. While I dry my hair, he’s wrapping a towel around his hips.

“We should make this a thing,” he says.

“Make what a thing?” I peer up at him as I slip into my clothes.

“Showering together.”

I laugh, brushing right past him, while he follows me into our bedroom.

Our bedroom…

I hadn’t realized how easily I thought of it as ours.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Can you blame a man for trying?” His palms settle on my shoulders from behind, his mouth pressing against my neck, kissing me softly.

The longer he holds me, the harder it becomes to fight him. And I don’t even know if I want to.

“By the way…” he says, his mouth dancing across my skin. “Fia called. She said we’re having that tea party with her tomorrow at Fionn’s.”

A laugh escapes me, the heat of his body making it harder to speak. “So you have a four-year-old telling you what to do now?”

“What can I say?” He wraps an arm around my midsection, pulling me tightly against him. “The women in my life have me by the balls.”

I peer over at him, cracking a smile. “Do you have to work today?”

“Just for a little bit. But Tynan did say Amara and Elara wanted to come by later if you’re up for it.”

“Sure. That sounds nice.”

I didn’t get much of a chance to talk to them at dinner, so maybe spending more time with his family will help me feel more like I belong.

* * *

A few hours later, the girls arrive, bringing food and drinks with them. The warm scent of fresh bread and savory dishes fills the air as Elara grins.

“We’re so happy to be here,” she says, dropping the bags on the kitchen counter.

Mary takes charge, gathering everything and heading outside to set up for us. We follow her, finding a table nestled beneath the shade of a tree. As we settle, Mary pours each of us a glass of wine before heading back inside.

A few bodyguards are stationed nearby, standing watch with quiet precision, but my attention is drawn to one in particular. He’s been watching me for the past few days, his gaze too intense. At first, I brushed it off as my imagination, but now I can’t ignore it. His eyes linger on me with a discomfort that I can't shake.

I force myself to push the unease down, trying to focus on the conversation as the women continue chatting. Their presence is warm, welcoming, and I quickly feel at ease in their company, like I’ve known them for much longer than just a few hours.

“So, how’s married life going?” Amara asks, tossing her black hair over her shoulder, her hazel eyes sparkling. “I remember the slap at your brother’s birthday,” she adds with a soft laugh. “Have things improved since then?”

I take a long sip of my wine, trying to steady myself. “Well…” I trail off, my fingers tightening around the glass. “Maybe a little. But I’ll be honest, it’s hard for me to trust that he won’t walk away from me again.”

Elara nods in understanding. “Yeah, Tynan told me about what happened and that you left.”

My throat tightens. “It was just too hard for me to stay after how much he hurt me.”

“Trust can be a tricky thing,” Elara continues. “Once it’s broken, it takes time to rebuild it. But I’m sure you two can.” She reaches over, her hand comforting as she gives mine a reassuring squeeze. “If you want to, that is.”

I want to. God, I want to. But fear holds me back.

“I just don’t want to get hurt again.”

Sympathetic eyes greet me.

“I vote you make him suffer a little more,” Amara says, a playful glint in her gaze. “Wouldn’t want to make it too easy on him.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “My cousin Natalia would agree with you. It’s exactly what she told me to do.”

We all chuckle, and for a moment, I forget about the fear and the past. It’s easy to laugh, to feel like we’re all best friends already. The warmth of their presence washes over me, making me feel lighter than I’ve felt in a long time.

“Um…” Elara leans in, glancing briefly toward the bodyguards and then back at me. “Is that guy checking you out?”

I follow her line of attention, and my stomach drops. The same bodyguard from earlier. His dark eyes are fixed on me, and when I meet his gaze, his mouth curves into a small, unsettling smile.

“I think so.” My throat goes dry.

Elara's eyes narrow, and she fixes him with a pointed stare. He quickly shifts his focus elsewhere, but the discomfort in my chest lingers.

Why is he looking at me like that? Doesn’t he realize that this kind of attention could get him killed?

At least it would if he worked for Konstantin. He’d never let something like this slide. But Cillian…maybe he doesn’t handle things the same way.

I hesitate, unsure whether to bring it up to him. The last thing I want is to stir up trouble.

My gaze flicks back to the bodyguard, my thoughts spinning. It’s possible I’m overreacting, but the unease refuses to fade.