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So why am I afraid of losing him?
Maybe it’s because I’ve never had it so good. I don’t know what it’s like to relax and just enjoy life, and I definitely don’t know how to trust that anything good will last.
Because it can’t. It never does and it never will.
And yet I find myself so foolishly, hopelesslyhopeful. Like there could be the possibility that Demyen might actually care for me,wantme, more than just as a means to an end or an extra housekeeper or a…ahem…bedwarmer. It’s just something in the way he looks at me lately, and the way he touches me. Whispers to me.
Kisses me.
Makes love to me.
I give myself a little shake.Nope, that’s not what happened last night. Last night was just, I don’t know, a… a reassurance. Yes. A reassurance that I’m here, he’s here, we’re all here and fine and everything is going to be okay. The fact that he was more tender and intimate than he’s ever been before was just part of the mood we were in.
The fact that he woke me up before dawn with his head between my legs was just a bonus.
A really, really nice bonus.
After several more minutes of Willow and Demyen figuring out the crossword puzzle, he makes a victory fist and high-fives her. “Boom! We did it.”
Willow wiggles out of her seat to bring me the activity book and show me their conquered puzzle. “Look, Mommy! Demmy helped me!”
My heart squeezes again. Sure enough, Dem’s neat handwriting is in several of the squares spelling out the answers to riddles. Willow’s much less legible attempts also fill the spaces, but what gets me choked up are the margins where he took the time to show her how to write different letters.
I try not to make my glance up at Demyen too obvious. He’s back in his laptop, and probably buried in work he needs to catch up on now. I don’t even know what kind of work a powerful crime lord-slash-legitimate casino owner does remotely, but I’m sure it’s hefty.
I just can’t equate the dangerous, badass mob boss with the guy who draws daisies and smiley faces in a coloring book.
“Can we watch a movie?” Willow’s sweet voice breaks me out of my thoughts, and it’s probably best that she does. Before he catches me staring.
“Sure! I think…?” I glance at him because I don’t know how that works up here.
“We have Netflix,” he responds without looking up from his computer screen. “And popcorn in the kitchen.”
Willow grins at me, and I stretch as I roll onto my feet. “Alright, popcorn and a movie it is.”
“Could you grab me a beer while you’re at it?”
I smirk at him. “Yes, sir. Is there anything else you would like, sir?” I ask in my sultriest flight attendant impression.
He pauses. I see his eyes widen a bit, and the corner of his mouth curves up. “Several things, but… I’ll have to take a raincheck.” He side-eyes Willow, and I blush.
“I’ll circle back later,” I tease.
I don’t remember drifting off, but apparently, I did. So did Willow, who is snuggled with me under the large throw blanket. The now-empty bowl of popcorn is on the coffee table.
Demyen comes over and very carefully lifts Willow into his arms. She fusses a little in her sleep, but he hushes her and rocks her in his arms until she nestles close and calms.
Fuck. The things he does to my heart and my ovaries.
He gestures with his head to the door that leads to the bedroom, and I take that as a cue to follow him.
Holy shit. It’s easy to forget we’re on a plane—this place is massive. The king-sized bed takes up most of the room, but there’s a closet like he said and plenty of space to relax at the vanity, if needed. The bed itself looks luxurious with silk sheets and a velvet duvet, and an optional fur blanket is folded at the end of the bed.
Demyen carefully lays Willow down on the bed. He tucks her under the velvet duvet and fluffs the pillow under her head. Then, after only a moment’s pause, he straightens and takes my hand to lead me back out of the room, closing the door behind us.
I want to thank him for everything. For being so wonderful to Willow. For taking us along on this incredible trip in this incredible private jet…
And yet I can’t find the words.
