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Roman’s smug smile drops. A vein throbs in his temple. His breathing halts, color draining so fast, I’m afraid he’ll die right here, and we’ll be blamed for inciting a territory dispute.
Fear. Genuine fear. What could that mean?
“W-well.” He clears his throat, and the reaction is gone, like nothing happened at all. “A turn for a turn, then. I’ll take your honesty as a gift and be on my way.” He reaches for Lucy’s hand and mine darts out purely on reflex. I grab his wrist and squeeze.
“Do. Not. Touch her.”
That fucking smile hits his mouth again as he snatches his arm free and adjusts his sleeve. “Ah well. The last hand kiss will have to suffice then, angel.”
My vision goes red. Pulsing starbursts everywhere. If I had my gun, I’d blow his head clean off, right in front of her.
Lucy’s arm whips backward, fingers digging into my side.
“Until next time. Happy birthday.” Roman gives her a little head bow, and me, a knowing smirk, before turning on his heel. He strolls out, touching various decorations, taking his time.
He knows. Fuck. It isn’t just that I love her, it’s that loving her could bring this family to an end. I finally have a tangible weakness, something he’s been trying to find for years, and it was just handed to him on a blonde platter.
Lucy shifts again, and it isn’t until then I realize how viciously I’m holding her waist. I let go, and she breathes out in a rush.
“Jesus,” she pants, patting my side and turning to face me again.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, though it sounds more like a death rattle.
“It’s okay.” She smiles, resting her hand on my heart. “I think we should work on a safe word or something, though.”
I scowl. After a few seconds, her smile falls and she nods. “I know. But, thank you for telling him.”
Part of me wants to scold her for leaving out that he kissed her hand, or touched her at all, but that wouldn’t help anything now.
“You are never,” I growl, holding the back of her neck with both hands, “allowed to talk to that man again. Do I make myselfperfectlyclear?”
Her eyes turn to saucers, hands flying up to cover mine. “Yes Sir, I didn’t…”
“You know now.” I pull her closer, filling her vision, resting my forehead on hers. “Nothing can happen to you,” I grit out, hold tightening. “Do you understand? Nothing!” My voice breaks, and I squeeze my eyes shut.
“Hey, hey” she whispers, darting forward and wrapping her arms so tightly around me I can barely breathe. “It’s okay.”
It’s not tight enough, and it’s not okay.
“Nothing will happen. I’ll be careful, I’ll stay with you, I won’t talk to anybody you don’t say is safe, I’ll do everything right, just please don’t be sad.”
I wrap myself around her, too, soaking in her warmth. Even though the rage and fear are still simmering, it’sherwellbeing I need to focus on. Using her as a focal point—yet again—I bring myself back into line.
“I’m sorry your party was ruined.”
She lets out a little laugh and pushes back a bit, wiping her cheek. “Well, aside from the body part in a box,” she turns a shade of green for a second before normalizing, “it was the best party I’ve had in a long time.”
I quirk a brow at her. “I had other plans.”
“I dunno what they were but, we can still do them. Probably. Maybe?”
Calmer now, mostly because of her existence, I straighten my spine and glance toward the cake table. “There’s still my gift.”
“Your what?” Her face brightens and almost tugs a smile out of me. “But this was already so much.”
“Tut,” I bark, holding up my finger.
She almost rolls her eyes, but huffs instead. “Not as in I don’t deserve—just in quantity of—” She deflates a bit, grinning. “I can’t win that argument, can I?”
