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Stepping forward, I pull him in for a fierce hug. “Thank you, Dad.”
“You’re an adult now, Willow, which means you’re old enough to make your own decisions. All I ask is you be responsible when it comes to sex, okay? Be safe.”
I drop my arms and stand back, putting a little distance between us. “Let’s not do the birds and the bees talk. It’s fucking embarrassing.”
A look of relief crosses his face. “Alright. Text Ivan tomorrow when you’re ready to be picked up. I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
With a wave, Dad turns around and disappears down the bustling, crowded corridor.
It’s close to sunrise by the time we arrive at the President’s Estate. We stayed at the hospital all night while they treated Alek, but since he is who he is, he was a top priority patient. If he was anyone else, we’d probably be there much longer.
Rather than taking the staircase, Alek leads me to a staff elevator. His bedroom is on the second floor, and when we step inside, I realize this is my first time in this space.
It’s more like a personal apartment with an office, bathroom, and bedroom jutting off from a massive living room. The décor is masculine, yet timeless, with dark leather and wood furnishings. The ceilings are high, so it isn’t stuffy or cramped, and the spacious French windows offer a view of the grounds and the vast sky moments before dawn.
And his delicious scent lingers everywhere, enveloping me in his smoky, sinful essence.
He shows me the way to his bedroom, which is a large four-poster bed. I rush over to fluff his pillows so he can lie down.
“Do not fuss over me.”
I pull out a bottle of antibiotics from my getaway bag, along with an envelope, and set it on the nightstand. “Well, you can’t fluff your pillows yourself, and you need to keep your arm elevated over your legs when you sleep.”
Turning to face him, I gasp to find Alek standing inches away from me, his sandy hair mussed and hanging over his forehead. He wraps his one good arm around my waist.
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not,” I say in a wobbly voice. “You have an infection and nerve damage. So let me take care of you.”
He hugs me tighter into his uninjured side. “Would a birthday present make you feel better?”
I roll my eyes. “It won’t change the fact you’re hurt.”
With a dashing grin, he grabs my hand and leads me toward the bed. When I sit, he scoops up my legs with one arm and puts them on the mattress, forcing me to lie back against the pillows. One by one, he pulls off my sneakers and tosses them to the floor.
He opens the drawer to his nightstand and takes out a small gift. Climbing into bed, he hands me the box and swings his arm over my shoulder.
I inspect the precise black wrapping paper with gold ribbon.
“Open it,” he says.
“It’s too pretty to open.”
He shakes his head. “Not as pretty as what’s inside.”
Sliding my finger beneath the seam of the paper, I slowly tear it off to reveal a long, velvet jewelry box.
When I lift the lid, I gasp.
“Alek,” I whisper. “It’s beautiful.”
At the end of a long, silver chain sits a heart-shaped pendant made of black diamonds. A red garnet is set in the center, and stemming from the bottom of the heart is a silver dagger charm.
It’s gothic and perfect and fits Alek’s personality to a T. A beautiful representation of our love story.
“Put it on.” He sweeps the hair off my neck, allowing me to reach up and clasp the necklace. The pendant rests between my breasts, and I run my fingers along the precious stones.
