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“Do you think he’ll move in with us?” I ask, dropping my gaze. He’s still hospitalized, but he woke up three days ago. He’s getting better every day, and he doesn’t seem mad at me.
When he should be.
I endangered him.
“Little doe, he’s an extension of our family now. He needs someone to take care of him while he gets back on his feet,” Jordan says. I can’t touch his confidence. He won’t accept no for an answer. Ignas is our project now, and we’ll help him until he kicks us out of his life.
“What will happen to Smolyakov?” I ask, mindlessly staring at the blue sky.
Smolyakov’s being held in the palace, and I haven’t seen or heard from him in days. Jordan made sure that he’s being held in a prison of the highest security measures. He’s the palace’s number one prisoner at this moment. He’s the most dangerous liability in the palace, and he’s not been killed for his crimes yet because Jordan holds the ropes.
“I hope he dies in that dungeon,” Jordan says, exhaling sharply. “But I know he won’t. To be honest, I don’t know what will happen to him if you don’t want me to end him. I could. All you have to do is ask.”
“That’s what he wants. I won’t grant him that wish,” I reply. Smolyakov’s betrayal smacked me in the face, and I haven’t yet recovered. “Will he be put on trial?”
“Yeah, but I’m unsure whether Adonis and his lot will be able to extract any further information out of him. He betrayed you. He did Hugh Abbott’s bidding. He’s a disgraced national hero… Well, we won’t make that information public. That would cause an outrage, and it would weaken our position. It’s better if people think Smolyakov’s missing in action,” Jordan explains. He scoops me up, carrying me out of the woods. Longingly, I gaze back at our future.
I’m ready.
“I trusted him.” My throat burns with hurt. I hide my face against his strong chest.
“I know you did,” Jordan says, kissing the top of my head. “It’s okay, though. Mistakes happen. He used your weaknesses against you. That won’t ever happen again, little doe. I’ll make sure of it.”
In silence, we stroll back into the palace. The guards pat us down. They stare at our coupling in awe while I gaze at their boss.
Jordan is their hero, and it never ceases to amaze me.
We venture inside the palace, and Jordan leads the way to the stairs.
“Do we really have to take the staircase?” I complain, yawning and slumping my shoulders to emphasize my point.
“We do,” he says, adamant on getting his way.
“What can I do to change your mind?” I ask, playfully tilting my head to the side.
Jordan raises his eyebrows. He bites his lower lip, deep in thought. Or so I presume. “Little doe, I want your mouth.”
“My mouth’s yours, Mr. Winters,” I proclaim.
“That’s what I like to hear.”
We end up taking the elevator up to his floor. Once we reach our destination, I’m reminded that the ladies at the reception haven’t warmed up to me yet. Jordan is mine, and they can’t have him. They don’t like that, but I don’t care.
At all.
When we enter his office, I sigh. “Why don’t you have a nice view of Katantia like Kamila does?”
“I don’t need nice views, little doe. Distractions lead to errors. We can’t afford that at our levels of stress,” Jordan explains, taking a seat at his desk. This entire room could use a renovation. It’s too bleak to be inside of for more than ten minutes.
Jordan opens his laptop, and his attention fades from me.
“Hey, we said no work today,” I remind him in a pout.
“I can’t hear you, little doe. What did you say?” He teases me. He takes away his attention, one of the things I crave most from him. “I can’t hear little does that aren’t on their knees with their mouths full of my cock.”
I make my way to his desk, and I drop a kiss on his lips.
“Little doe, you better hurry up. We’ve got visitors,” he announces with a smirk. I panic, impulsively sinking to my knees. His desk is wooden, and his legs take up most of the space.
