Page 199 of Sexting His Assistant

I always imagined love would arrive in a dramatic way, not sneak into my heart like this.

I look down because I don’t know what my face is doing.

Luka says, “What?”

“Nothing,” I say.

Luka says, “That answer is yours now?”

“It always was,” I say.

He lowers his head slightly. “Nina.”

I close my eyes for half a second.

When I open them, he is still watching me.

I could tell him. Not everything. Not Roman’s card, not the warning, not the terrible tangle of questions I’m not ready to explain. I could tell him this one thing. That when he asked for this dance, something in me changed its shape.

But love is a dangerous word.

Especially with him. Especially now.

So, I say the safer thing.

“I used to imagine this,” I say.

His hand stills at my waist. “What?”

“Being with you somewhere like this,” I say. “At the gala, I mean. Not the park. I’ve never had a fantasy about being kidnapped from your security detail and taken to a park.”

Luka says, “You have a very limited imagination.”

I huff out a laugh. “Apparently.”

“I made a mistake today,” he says. “I should’ve introduced you differently.”

My heart stumbles. I keep my voice steady. “How?”

Luka is quiet for a moment. Then he says, “As mine.”

I should object.

I should remind him that I’m not a possession, that we had this conversation, that I made rules, that I have a career and a brother and a life I’m trying not to hand over to him piece by piece.

But his voice isn’t possessive in the way I expect.

It’s rough. Almost restrained.

As if he knows the word is dangerous and still cannot find one closer to the truth.

I lift my head. “You can’t say things like that.”

Luka says, “I know.”

“Then don’t,” I say.

Luka says, “I’m trying.”