Page 24 of Claimed By River

I need to find a way to keep her with me once the danger to her passes. Because the idea of watching her walk away twists something deep inside my chest.

Chapter Six

Nadia

It’s amazing how quickly an entirely different life can begin to feel like the only one you’ve ever known. I sit behind my desk in the reception area and let myself run back through the weeks I’ve spent with River.

Every morning starts with River grumbling that I’m making too much noise in the kitchen while I remind him that normal people don’t need three cups of coffee before speaking to another human being. Every evening ends with dinner together, and me spread across whatever surface he backs me into.

Somewhere in between, we spend our days at the tattoo shop stealing glances when we think the other isn’t looking and pretending that the wedding rings on our fingers are only part of an elaborate plan. I’m not pretending anymore. At least not to myself.

River has an uncanny way of anticipating what I need without making me feel weak for needing it. He’s become my shadow, and I don’t want to shake him off. If a client gets a little too familiar, River materializes beside me with a calm possessiveness that sends the message without him raising his voice.

That possessiveness does something to me. Some days, I don’t make it home before he has me pinned somewhere in the back of the shop with his hand over my mouth. I’m needy every time he’s around me, and sometimes the intensity of it scares me.

That’s the part that terrifies me almost as much as it comforts me: how fast I’ve needed him. I glance down at the plain gold wedding band circling my finger before forcing myself to look away. River never treats our marriage like a burden, but he's never suggested it should become anything more than what we agreed upon.

He’s naturally protective. Naturally attentive. Maybe this is simply who he is with everyone he loves. Maybe I’ve mistaken kindness for something deeper because I’ve never experienced kindness from a man before. It’s safer not to wonder or hope. Hope has a way of making the fall much harder.

Royal posted our wedding photos everywhere the day after the ceremony, which was the entire point. I know my father has seen them. He knows exactly where I am and who I belong to on paper. Yes, he hasn’t called, hasn’t written, hasn’t sent anyone.

That’s what the guys believe anyway.

There have been four calls to my cell from an unknown number. Always with the same long breath before the line goes dead. I know it’s him.

But I haven’t said a word about it because I know exactly what happens the second I do. Four men who have already rearranged their entire lives around would go to war with a bratva boss, and if any of them don’t come back, it would be because of me. I have spent my entire life deciding what information is safe to let out of my mouth. It turns out I’m still doing it. I’ve just changed who I’m protecting.

⁎⁎⁎

Business is slower than usual this afternoon, leaving River and me alone in his tattoo room while he sketches a custom sleeve design across a digital tablet. I’m curled into the chair beside his desk pretending to organize appointment confirmations. However, I keep finding myself watching the small crease that forms between his eyebrows whenever he’s concentrating.

Without looking up, he smiles. “If you keep staring holes through me, I’m going to start charging.”

“I wasn’t staring.”

“You were.” He doesn’t stop drawing. “You’ve been not-staring for twenty minutes.”

“I was observing.” I turn a confirmation slip over and pretend to read the back.

His grin widens. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“I’m learning from the best.” I nudge his boot with my foot under the desk.

“You’ve got a long way to go.”

“I disagree.”

“You usually do.” He sets the stylus down at last and leans back, chair creaking, arms folded across that broad chest in a way that makes it very difficult to keep observing anything productively. “It keeps my blood pressure interesting.”

“You love it.”

“I tolerate it.”

I laugh, and something in his face changes when I do—goes soft at the edges in a way I don’t think he knows about. He opens his mouth.

Someone knocks lightly against the open door. Royal strolls inside carrying his laptop beneath one arm and wearing the unmistakable expression of someone trying very hard not to smile too broadly.

“I’ve got good news.”