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I thank the stars above for guiding us here.
34
DEMYEN
It’s almost two in the morning, and I can’t fucking sleep.
I thought running a lap on the elliptical would help. Nope. Maybe throwing some weights around until my body burns would do it. Negative.
Neither did taking the coldest shower possible and climbing into bed. That turned out to be a monumental mistake, because all I could think about was how Clara’s soft curves feel tucked next to me when she’s sleeping… how she tastes when I explore her body… how she sounds when she’s awake and losing herself to her passions while I’m impaling her on my?—
I drop the barbell onto the hooks above me and sit up. I can’t even fucking bench press without tenting my shorts.Fuck.
As much as I hate liars, I also hate being honest with myself. Because that requires admitting things, confessing things, and those things usually involve some part of me losing control over the situation.
Like Clara.
I’m supposed to hate her very existence. I’m supposed to have her locked up in some dirty dungeon cell, sobbing and pleading with me for mercy that I have zero plans on giving. I’m supposed to be exacting vengeance on her for what she did to Tolya. Her life for his life.
What am Inotsupposed to be doing?
Protecting her from abusive scumbags like Martin fucking Patterson. Nursing her back to health through a serious fever and possible infection. Showing her off like my prized possession. Growing attached to her offspring.
In other words… literally everything I’ve been doing.
I don’t understand it. She’s not the first damsel in distress I’ve ever come across. Bambi’s a testament to that—I stumbled upon her when she tried to shop for johns in my establishment and I nearly had her arrested. But she was so young and so terrified. I felt more compelled to help her than hurt her. I paid for her apartment, her education, supported her through her bar exam, and then hired her as my jack-of-all-trades.
But I never obsessed over her. Not that she isn’t a walking sculpture who could have any man or woman she chose—I just never felt the compulsion. I respected her too much. Still do.
So why the ever-livingfuckis Clara so deeply embedded under my skin?
My deep thoughts are interrupted by a water bottle flying at my head. I catch it and glare up at Pavel, who sports a sheepish grin.
“Sorry, dude. Thought you were paying attention.”
I should be, that’s for damn sure. But instead of admitting it, I just grunt. “Yeah, well.” I chug down the icy water and drop the bottle to the floor with a plasticcrunch.
Pavel sits down on a bench next to me and sighs. “Want the updates?”
“Shoot.”
“We located the guy from the bar. He has officially retracted his complaint filed against you with LVPD and admitted to his own crimes. They’re taking him in for arraignment once he’s discharged from the hospital.”
I smirk. “What happened to him?”
Pavel casually shrugs, but the mischievous smile tugs at his mouth. “He tripped and fell through a window.”
“How many times did he fall through that window?”
“Oh, there were a lot of windows. Terrible stroke of luck. Orstrokes,rather. But the police are betting each window has a name attached to one of his victims, if you know what I mean.”
I raise a brow. “Victims?”
Pavel nods. “Serial rapist. We only figured it out because he kept getting the names wrong when we questioned him. Seemed interesting, so I had one of our guys hack in and run those same names through the system. Rapes and assaults, all unsolved.”
“I hope you tied him up with a big red bow for LVPD.”
He snaps his fingers in exaggerated disappointment. “Dammit, I went with blue.”
