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“You had no choice,” I murmur. “I would have dragged you back, kicking and screaming. Or just thrown you over my shoulder and carried you the whole way.”
She almost smiles. But instead, she drops her hands and steps out of my arms. “This won’t happen again.”
“What won’t?”
“This,” she says, gesturing between us. “Me, coming to you for comfort. You, feeling like you need to play the hero and actually give it.”
I snort. “I think we both know I’m no hero.”
“Isn’t that the truth.” She smiles sadly. “Goodnight, Ilarion.”
“Goodnight,tigrionok. Sweet dreams.”
22
ILARION
In the den, Dima has worn a deep furrow into the rug with his pacing. He’d rip through it straight to the concrete below if I’d spent any longer upstairs with Taylor.
“Took you long enough. What happened?”
I pause in the doorway and frown. “I don’t think you want to ask me that question,sobrat.”
And I don’t think I want to answer it.
Dima takes a deep breath. “Are you sure you’ve thought this through? I mean, bringing Taylor back, it’s a ticking time bomb waiting to go off. And when it does, it’ll blow up your entire life.”
I look him in the eye. “Do you promise?”
I turn to the window, picturing myself back in the cabin—just Taylor and me. I’d never had a happy place before that trip. I go back there often. But only in my head.
“What about Celine?”
“I’ll tell her tomorrow.”
“What, precisely, will you tell her tomorrow?”
I continue to stare out my window. I had damn near every blade of grass ripped out and replanted after the Bellasio attack. But in the end, it’s still the same garden, still overgrown with the same stubborn memories.
“That I’ve found her sister and father. Convinced them to come back,” I say, turning towards Dima. “I agreed not to tell Celine about Adam’s true parentage.”
Dima raises his eyebrows. “Fuck. She got to you. Never thought I’d see the day.”
I don’t like the way he says it. Like it was inevitable. “She didn’t convince me of anything. The truth will come out sooner or later. I don’t see the harm in giving her a temporary victory now.”
To be honest, that quiet drive gave me plenty of time to see the harm in throwing that information in Adam’s face while he’s still adjusting to his new home. His new life.
His new world in the Bratva.
Dima strokes his beard. “The boy looks exactly like you, you know.”
I can’t help but be proud of that. It’s a stupid thing to be proud of. It’s genetics, for fuck’s sake, but still—something primal in me growls appreciatively.
“Hm. Hadn’t noticed.”
Dima snorts in disbelief, but he doesn’t press the issue. Instead, he strolls over and slaps me on the back. “Well, congratulations, man! You’re a father.”
“Shit,” I breathe.
