I need you to learn how to be soft with me.
It was a huge ask, a massive vulnerability, and he had met it. He had dropped the shield. But I know this is only the beginning. The monster never truly sleeps; it is only quieted by acceptance and understanding. Whatever happens from here on out between us, it will not be easy.
I think about telling him about the pregnancy, but tonight isn’t the right time. He’s trying to be better for me, but this is only one night. I need Dmitri to do as he says for the long term. I promise myself I’ll tell him soon.
Dmitri is gone from the doorway when I step out of the shower, wrapped in a thick, dark robe that smells like him. I find him sitting on the edge of the large bed, a glass of bourbon in his hand. His hair is damp from his own shower, and he’s wearing nothing but a pair of dark lounge pants, his torso a roadmap of muscle, tattoos, and old scars.
He raises his head, his eyes taking in all of me.
“Come here.” Dmitri holds out a hand.
I walk over to the bed and stop in front of him. He puts the glass down on the nightstand.
“I asked you to stay. You said you would. I need to hear you repeat it. Everything else—the case, the mole, the police—it can wait until the sun rises. But I need you to commit this night to me. I need you to tell me that after everything, you still want to be here.”
He is asking for confirmation of my unconditional trust—the trust I had just fought to earn.
I meet his gaze. “I want to be here, Dmitri. I will stay.”
For the first time in a long time, I feel wanted and needed. And even though I know the road ahead will be rocky, I’m starting to fall hard for this dangerous, broken man.
23
DMITRI
The morning sun filters through the blinds, the weak winter light casting a pale gold across the bed.
I watch her sleep.
This is only the second time I’ve remained in bed with a woman since I lost Lauren. The others I tossed aside, leaving as soon as we were finished, sweat still damp on my skin, breath still uneven. It was never about caring or emotion, but about the pleasure, the release, the pure physicality of my need, and absolutely nothing more. Certainly not time to realize the woman in bed with me was not Lauren.
Until now. Until Clara.
I prop myself on my elbow, my gaze fixed on the slow, steady rise and fall of her chest. I am compelled to watch her, desperate to witness that next rise, hear the next soft breath, terrified it won’t arrive. Terrified history will repeat itself, where I’m caught in some nightmare too late to save Clara.
Just like Lauren.
Clara is oblivious to all of this, submerged in the safety of sleep here in my bed, the moment sacred and stolen, where no one can touch her but me.
My brilliant young lawyer is a symphony of contradictions. Her long, thick hair pools across the pillows, a paradox to her light skin. The blunt-cut bangs frame her heart-shaped face, soft in the peace of sleep.
I trace her features with my eyes, afraid any touch will wake her. I follow the curve of her cheeks and the scattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, trying to memorize every inch. I long to wake her up, to see those eyes hidden beneath the dark sweep of her long lashes. To see how the warm hazel catches the light, how they flicker with intelligence and humor, fire, and passion.
Last night, they flared with pure terror, and the memory stabs at my gut, like a dagger of ice. I know if I hadn’t reacted fast enough, if one of the bullets had found Clara, I would have lost myself entirely. And this time, I don’t know if I would have come back.
I’m in love.
The realization doesn’t arrive as a gentle whisper or even as a bright ray of light. It is a violent, undeniable crush, a devastating certainty that the icy fortress I built out of control and steel, the one meant to guard the remnants of my life after I lost Lauren and the baby, has entirely broken open again.
Lauren.
I pull away from Clara with a jerk that I’m afraid might wake her. But she simply makes a soft sound and turns the other way, her breath calm and steady.
Unlike mine, which is coming in quick gasps now. Fearing my proximity might burn Clara, or that my touch might make her disappear, I back away until I can slip from under the quilt.
The danger Clara is in is entirely my doing. No one knew anything about her until she was seen with me, until she became not just an asset to my business, but someone I truly care for. Despite what Dean said, those bullets last night were meant for her, a warning that my shield is weakening.
It’s just like what happened with Lauren all over again.
