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There were bruises on his knuckles. Fresh injuries that were a nasty deep purple and red and swollen at the edges. I stepped forward and took his hand. “You’ve been fighting again.”
He twined his fingers through mine and gave me a dangerous smile. “You should see the other guys.”
“Who were they?”
He hesitated for a moment, and I expected him to tell me something vague, but then he squeezed my fingers and said, “Take a seat, dandelion. I’ll tell you all about it.”
And he did. He placed a latte with half a sugar in front of me and sat down opposite with his double macchiato and related all the details about why he and Mikhail had gone after three brothers on Dad’s orders. How they prepared. What weapons they took. How they got rid of the bodies. He talked to me like I was intelligent enough and strong enough to cope with the realities of Belyaev family life.
Like I was his equal.
It was just a few weeks after the home invasion, and I would be lying if I said that night hadn’t had any bad effects on me. I saw how Chessa was still suffering mentally and physically. I was awoken almost every night by one of my brothers or sisters having a nightmare. My attacker had been drinking, and if I smelled alcohol on someone’s breath, my heart started to race. But not from fear.
Fromanger.
I burned for a way to feel safe in my home again, but safety came from power, and I had none. I was a fourteen-year-old girl. A baby in Dad’s eyes who needed to be protected and sheltered even more aggressively than before.
But Uncle Kristian understood. This one conversation was enough to make me feel more in control of what happened to me on that terrible night. Yes, people did terrible things to the Belyaevs, but we retaliated, ten times harder.
As I gazed at my uncle, handsome, brutal, and bruised, I’d never seen a more beautiful and awe-inspiring sight.
Looking at him now with the memories of last night’s lovemaking clinging to my body, I feel the same as I did when I was fourteen. That he’s the most wonderful person I’ve ever known and ever will.
Kristian notices movement in his peripheral vision and glances over at me. There’s so much warmth that fills his pale blue eyes as he gazes at me, and I’m soaked in happiness.
The corners of his mouth turn up and he says softly, “There’s that smile I’ve been hoping for.”
I blink and remember what he said to me the morning after he found me in the warehouse.
Tomorrow, I want to open that front door and see you smile that big, beautiful smile that means you’re happy to see me. I want that more than anything in the world, dandelion.
I drink him in with my eyes. From his bed-rumpled hair to all his warm, muscular flesh, the ink on his chest, and the gray sweats slung low and tight around his hips.
I’m so happy to see him that my heart is singing.
He moves toward me as if compelled to do so by an unseen force, gathers me into his arms, and kisses me. His mouth is plush and urgent against mine, parting my lips so he can caress me with his tongue, thoroughly tasting me.
“I want to tell everyone about us,” he murmurs between kisses. “I’ve been keeping you secret in my heart for so long, and I want the whole city to know you’re my woman.”
I don’t know how to answer. I’m only just getting used to the idea of the two of us being closer than uncle and niece.
“Kristian, I—”
His eyes widen. “That’s the first time you’ve called me just Kristian.”
So it is. It just slipped out, but it feels natural. “I think I prefer it. Calling you uncle is getting weird, considering everything we’ve been doing.”
He takes my face in his hands and kisses me. “I prefer it, too.” Kristian gazes at me for a moment. “I’m going to say something, and please don’t think it’s because I’m callous. I’m only saying it because I’ve always believed you’re strong, and I don’t need to sugarcoat things for you. I want to be honest with you, princess. You don’t need the fairy tales we tell your brothers and sisters.”
I stroke his face. “It’s all right. You can say what’s on your mind.”
“Troian…” he says, and hesitates, and I can see his reluctance to cause me any pain even if he does think that I’m strong enough for it. “There are two ways we could do this. If you want to wait until your father is gone before we can openly be together, I understand. I’ll wait forever if I have to, as long as I can have you like this when we’re alone. In the meantime, I’ll be by your side always. Your protector and secretly your lover.”
I marvel that my proud uncle would consent to be what amounts to a bodyguard and a dirty little secret when he was once heir to the Belyaev fortune. “You would do that for me?”
His eyes are unclouded and sincere. “I’ll do it if it’s what you want. If it’s what makes you happy.”
I gently scratch my pointed nails across the muscles of his shoulders, thinking. “What’s the other way?”
