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“I have some emails that need my attention.”
“Mama. I will be a minute.”
Shpresa frowns, then holds up her forefinger. “A minute. That’s it.”
She turns and leaves Alessia and Maxim, both still trying to find their equilibrium.
* * *
I watch her mother leave, grateful we were still clothed when she interrupted us. I kiss the top of Alessia’s head again. “Baby, I will always want you. But let’s wait until we’re out of here.”
“But that is days away!”
Alessia’s protests widen my smile.
“And I don’t have any condoms,” I mutter into her hair.
“You should buy some.”
“I should. But don’t you think it will be odd if people think you’re pregnant and I’m buying condoms?”
“Oh.”
“I’ll ask Tom to get me some.”
Alessia gasps, flushes beet red, and buries her face in my Aran sweater.
I grin and tighten my hold on her. “I told him you’re not pregnant.”
“I… I…um…could go to the clinic. And get the contraceptive pill,” she says, the sound muffled by my knitwear.
“That’s a brilliant idea.”
She chances a cautious look at me, and I smile.
Sex without condoms will be a first!
“Okay. I will do that. I should tell my parents that I am not pregnant.”
“Yes. We should.”
“I have a plan.” Hesitantly, she looks up at me.
“You do?”
“Tomorrow.” She buries her head in my sweater once more. “Is the date. I bleed.”
Ah.
“Okay. So you’ll tell your mother you’re not pregnant?”
“Yes. I will find a time to tell her.” She can’t look at me, and I think it’s because she’s embarrassed. Taking her head in my hands again, I stare into her beautiful dark eyes.
“We should be able to talk about this—you and your body. It’s okay. I think it’s a good plan.” I kiss her forehead. “Maybe tell her Saturday.”
Reassured, I think, she nods. “I’d better go.”
Reluctantly, I release her, and with a lingering, thirsty look at me, she exits the bedroom, leaving me with a hard-on and a severe case of blue balls.
Like I had when I first made her acquaintance.
I smirk at the memory and take a deep, cleansing breath. As predicted, her mother made an untimely appearance. And it’s a fucking problem. The proximity and the constant monitoring from her parentals is driving me crazy. Being here has given me a valuable insight into Alessia’s upbringing and makes me admire her all the more for escaping to London. She’s grown up and lived in this stifling atmosphere, controlled by her mother and father her whole life. I’ve been here two nights, and I’m missing my freedom. I feel like a teenager back in school.
I’m a grown man, for fuck’s sake.
Well, most of the time.
But I’m not leaving here, especially if that arsehole thinks he can turn up and have another chance with her.
I snort at the irony. Man, you’re keeping an eye on her.
I rub the last of my hangover away from my temples and make a mental note of where her father keeps his shotgun… just in case Anatoli the Arsehole makes another unwelcome appearance. I’d be more than happy to put a bullet through him.
Hell.
The sooner we’re out of here, the better; I’m contemplating murder.
Chapter Four
Under the glow of the little dragon nightlight, Alessia lies in bed staring at the ceiling while her fingers worry the gold cross at her neck. She’s exhausted, but her mind refuses to settle as it churns through the day’s events and her to-do list.
This morning, Tom had driven Alessia and her mother to Prizren in Kosovo to buy a wedding dress. Her mother wouldn’t let her fiancé take them because it was “bad luck” and would “spoil the surprise,” so Maxim had insisted Tom drive. Her father had shrugged. “Like I said, you’re his problem now. If that’s what Maxim wants, then so be it. Besides, he and I have work to do here.”
Alessia scowls in the dark and turns on her side toward the nightlight.
She is not a problem!
She directs her thoughts back to their trip. It had been a success. They’d been lucky to find a beautiful dress, and she’d discovered a softer side to Maxim’s gruff friend. He’d been courteous, kind, and vigilant while with them. He’d also given his begrudging approval of her dress as he’d sat quietly and discreetly near the door of the bridal store.
“Yes. Yes. That’s the one. Jolly nice. You look… um… lovely,” he’d blustered and flushed the same color as his hair; then, to hide his embarrassment he’d turned to scan the passersby through the shop window. Alessia had suspected he was looking for Anatoli.
On the drive to Kosovo, Tom had told her about the security company he owned where he could put the skills he’d learned in the British army to good use. He’d been delighted to have a captive and attentive audience. Alessia had been fascinated, asking questions about his work, and grateful that he was with them, as Maxim had been hypervigilant since Anatoli’s untimely reappearance.
