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“Kyro…what’s wrong? What happened?” I push slightly.
His arms wrap around me tightly as his head rests at the top of my head. “I went to see Ivan today, and I thought if I went, I would feel less guilty, but I don’t. I blame myself for his death. The man that gave me the life I have now. I would have probably been dead to him and yet I sent him marching into his death because I was a stubborn bastard.”
“Oh…Kyro. You have to let that go. It’s not your fault he’s dead. It’s the Irish who put a hit on him. You couldn’t have prevented that order.” I speak softly, hoping my words will bring some peace.
I can feel something wet drip onto my head. “I just want to hear his voice; I want to fight with him one more time.”
“I do too.” I try not to cry myself.
“Fuck, I cannot believe myself right now.” He squeezes me even tighter.
The emotional vulnerability he displays in my eyes only. We truly are husband and wife. Words we don’t tell anyone else, looks we capture each other in, and warm touches we save for each other.
“I’m sorry, you should get ready for your night out.” He takes a step back, putting some distance between us.
I snatch his tie and pull him closer to me. “Don’t pull away from me.” I plead.
Kyro groans, and it awakens the monster I know lies beneath the guilt. His hand grabs a fistful of my hair and kisses me. The kiss is full of passion, lust, and, more importantly pain. The pain of a broken man. “I’ll be busy in the home office, but I’ll keep my phone close. Call me if there are any problems.” He calms.
I simply nod at my husband’s words.
Kyro leaves me alone, standing naked in the bathroom. I walk to my closet and look for something to wear.
Later that night, Izzy and I met up at a new art gallery that opened up a few months ago. The artist’s name is Ru Wén. His artistic skills are truly remarkable, creating art pieces that are both beautiful and captivating to look at.
“Reyna, look at this one!” Izzy gleams.
I ran over and looked at the painting. This painting is a painting of a woman looking at this very painting.
“It’s calledTaurus. What does this say to you?” Izzy asked, pinching her fingers together and shaking them dramatically.
“Not sure, don’t know much about art. Maybe it’s a wish? Since the woman is looking at the painting, she’s in. Looking into the future.” I suggest, as I yawn slightly.
“I think it’s about love. They say this is the wife of the painter,” Izzy adds.
My heart sinks a bit. Kyro is in pain at this moment. Why am I out right now? Sometimes Kyro is so strong that I forget he needs me, but maybe he needs time. He doesn’t want to cry all the time, it’s not how he is, but he cried in front of me today and I…just left.
“I need you to help me with something.” I nudge.
We prowl around the bar, looking for the evil assholes. It doesn’t take long to see a guy roofing a girl’s drink. I look over at the men Kyro sent to take care of me while I’m out. I point to the fucker. “That one, take him to the warehouse,” I order.
“Da.” They all answer.
“What are you going to do to him?” Izzy asks, seemly not that weirded out by this. I know she knows about the secret, but she’s way too relaxed about it.
“It’s a present for my husband.” I smile.
After Izzy and I say our goodbyes, I make it home, and Prince is asleep. I walked into Kyro’s office, but he was not there. I walk upstairs into our room, but he’s not there either.
I gave up and called him. He answers immediately, “Where are you?”
“Alek Tavish isn’t what I thought. He retaliated and killed ten of my men. I thought he wouldn’t care about his brother, but I was wrong. I’m dealing with the aftermath. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”
Fuck, the Irish are starting a war.
Chapter 29
Kyro
