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Dropping onto the sofa, I cross one ankle over the opposite knee and regard her carefully. “In order for me to keep you safe,” I begin, “I require a certain level of cooperation from you.”
She frowns, already on guard. “What is this about?”
“I expect you to tell me things. What I don’t want is to hear shit secondhand from Bee.”
“Bee told you about Vittorio.”
“Yes. But you should have told me about him.”
“I didn’t want to make a big deal about it,” she mumbles, dropping her eyes away from me and finding a sudden fascinating interest in the stitching of the armchair.
“Vittorio is a veteran don with many years in this game, Wren. If he’s interested in you, it is by definition a big deal.”
For all that she’s trying to play it calm, cool, and collected, Wren is rippling with signs that I’m getting through to her. Her breathing grows heavier; her hands wring in her lap again and again. I’m ready for more defiance, but then she surprises me.
Her eyes meet mine. “He’s terrifying,” she admits at last.
I wish I knew how to explain what it does to me to hear her say that. I have to urge myself to stay seated, to not go rip Vittorio’s fucking head off right this goddamn second. It’s like hot lava in my chest and in my veins.
She’s so fragile and small and it’s my job to protect her. She should never be afraid. She should never be touched. She should never be alone.
“You don’t have to fear him,” I rasp. “I swear to you—I will protect you.”
Her chin trembles, another heartbreaking sight. “It seems to me that… you’re gonna have to choose.” Her voice is soft and uncertain. “You can’t protect both me and Bee. She’s Vittorio’s daughter and—let’s face it, I don’t have to be having an affair with you. By virtue of the fact that I’m carrying your child and Bee isn’t, I am the other woman.”
“I can control Vittorio.”
“You can’t?—”
“I can and I will,” I snarl, still brimming over with that white-hot energy. “If you doubt that, you don’t know me very well.”
Wren just shakes her head sadly. “I beg to differ. I may have been invisible to you for as long as I’ve worked outside your office—but trust me, it didn’t go both ways. I’ve watched you command every room you walk into. I’ve watched you manipulate, dominate, and charm your clients and investors and employees alike. I’ve watched you get every single thing you set out to achieve. It’s all very impressive. It’s all very intimidating. But it’s still not the same thing as being able to control your circumstances.”
She swallows, pushing down her tears in the same breath. “My sister believed she could manipulate her body into cooperating with her. She pumped herself full of drugs, did test after test, took supplements and hormones and a whole bunch of other shit. And when that didn’t work, she tried to control her circumstances. If she couldn’t have her own baby, she would engineer one that had Jared’s DNA and some of her own. It was a great plan—but guess what? It didn’t work. Some things are just out of our control, Dmitri.”
The frustration is written all over her face. Her emerald eyes have turned into a glinty kind of jade. I’m angry again. I’m angry because everything she just said makes sense to me.
And a short time ago, it wouldn’t have.
“I didn’t ask you in here to have a philosophical conversation about life.” I rise to my feet and look down at her. “I expect you to tell me things the moment they happen. I expect to hear from your lips first.” I stare at her lips as I speak to drive my point home. “Am I understood?”
“No,” she retorts, springing to her feet. “I don’t understand anything about you right now.”
She tries to storm off, but I lurch forward and grab her arm, then yank her toward me so hard she collides into my chest with a surprised oof.
“Let go of me!” she cries, fists beating against my abdomen.
I do the exact opposite: I pull her closer. My lips are so damn close to hers. Another millimeter more and they’ll be touching. I bet she tastes so sweet.
“Let me say this plainly so you will understand: next time you keep secrets from me, I’m going to spank your ass so hard you’ll have an imprint of my hand there for the rest of your life.”
Oh, fucking hell—where did that come from? The intent was all right, but the shape it took was anything but. It took on a life of its own as it came past my lips.
But it’s the most truthful thing I could’ve said, because it held all of me in it. My desire and my fury—both at her and for her—and everything in between.
Fear ripples through her eyes, but there are other things swimming in there, too. She rips herself from under my grip and stumbles backwards. Her jaw is set aggressively but her hands are weak, trembling, and confused.
For one endless second, she stays there. A scared little lamb in a world designed to devour her.
