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“Well—”
“For breakfast. Tomorrow. Before school.”
Okay. I might be laughing just a bit. I know Demyen hears my hiccupped laugh because he very quickly side-eyes me before facing down his little negotiator.
“One scoop,” he concedes.
Willow narrows her eyes. “With sprinkles.”
He makes it seem like a tough bargain. “Fine. You win. Now, go find Gloria, you little juicer.”
I take my time sliding out of the Firebird. Demyen helps Willow out of her booster and shoos her to the main house with a pat on the head. The sight should make me happy, but it only twists the knife in my anxiety.
She deserves so much better than I’ve been able to give her.
She deserves to have the life Demyen’s building for her.
And I know Martin won’t let her have it. Not without a fight—and he fights dirty.
My thoughts are interrupted by hands suddenly spinning me around and pressing me against the car. Demyen’s mouth devours mine before I can blink. I moan—I can’t help myself. He tastes like coffee and confidence, two things I really need right now. His hands thread through my hair and his tongue sweeps over mine, coaxing and comforting all at once.
When he finally pulls away, it’s only enough for us to catch our breaths. I feel a little thrill travel through my veins at seeing the way he’s just as breathless as I am.
Ido that tohim?
“Clara.” Demyen rumbles my name. I love the way it tastes on his lips. “Clara, look at me.”
I do. It’s hard to look him in the eyes when he’s all fire and fury mixed with lust and desire, but I manage to meet his gaze without flinching. On the outside.
“I’m not going to let anything happen to Willow. Or you.” His nose touches mine for the briefest of moments.Is he…nuzzlingme?“Understood?”
“Dem…” I know he means well, but this is no small arms deal. This is an AMBER Alert, a manhunt for me and my child. Sanctioned by the police, led by my ex and supported by my father.
We don’t stand a chance.
“No matter what happens. You, me, whatever this is… No matter what happens, Martin will never get his hands on Willow. You have my word.”
Demyen is practically swearing a blood oath to me. I know he means every bit of it. So I muster a small smile and reach for him. “Thank you.”
I just wish I could believe him.
63
CLARA
Demyen leads me into his office and quickly shuts the door behind us. He rummages through his desk drawers and then, suddenly, I’m holding my cell phone.
“If we can get his confession recorded—” Demyen starts, but I cut him off with an eager head nod. I know exactly what he’s going for and it’s a brilliant idea: work Martin into a careless rage so he’ll admit this is all a bunch of lies he made up just to spite me.
And we’ll record every word.
Even my father won’t be able to deny that.
I’ve got several missed calls from Martin. No surprise there. I also have a bunch of texts from him that I don’t recognize but are marked as Read—I quickly glance up at Demyen, then back down at my phone. I’m not going to get upset and surprisingly, I’m really not.
Dad tried calling. That’s… odd. We’re not exactly what anyone could call “close.” He doesn’t call me other than to remind meabout his birthday dinner or to reinforce his stance with Martin after I’ve done something to warrant complaints.
He sure as shit never calls me just to see how I’m doing.
