Page 88 of Sinful Blaze

Her breath stills. Mine does the exact same. Every day, it seems like our baby is growing bigger and stronger. I rub my hand over her bump to feel the flutters and kicks.

Daphne sighs and leans into my embrace, her eyes slowly closing for a moment. Her hand rests on mine, and it’s startling to me how easy this is.

How easy “us” is.

“I’ve got something for you,” I murmur into her shoulder. Fuck, it’s so tempting to nibble her soft skin just to listen to her moans.

But I need to stay on task. I reach into my pocket and pull out the jewelry box I’ve been hanging onto for the last three hours.

“That better not be a car,” she teases.

“Fuck, you guessed it.” I pretend to sigh in disappointment. “I’ll send it back if you?—”

She grabs my wrist with a laugh. “No! Stop! I’m playing! I know Buccellati doesn’t make cars.”

“You know the jeweler?”

Her face falls. And then her eyes dart around like I’ve just caught her in the middle of something she shouldn’t be doing. “I mean, um…” She sighs and presses a few fingers to her temples. “Fine. You caught me.” Another deep breath, and she meets my gaze. “I’m a boarder.”

I try not to laugh. All the drama for that? “A boarder?”

“You know. A boarding school student.”

I still don’t get it.

“The kind only parents with private islands can afford.”

Oh.

That does explain a few things. It also indicates a glaring hole in the background research I had Mak run on her. Did the dossier even list her parents’ names? Or were they just listed as “alive and well”?

I’m about to ask her more when she interrupts me with a loud gasp.

She opened the box.

“Oh… oh my God. Pasha.”

My pride swells. So does something else, but I’m determined to stay focused on the topic at hand. The last thing I want is for her to go running away again.

Daphne carefully lifts the diamond filigree choker from the velvet box. The center stone is a brilliant cut of a four carat diamond, inlaid in white gold and surrounded by swirls of smaller diamonds that glitter and sparkle with every turn of her hand.

She won’t notice a few of the finer details, the ones I had included for myself and myself alone. Including a few choice Cyrillic letters that spell out “Chekhov.”

In other words… mine.

“It’s… This is…” She glances up at me with tears brimming on her lashes. “You really didn’t have to. You shouldn’t have.”

I slip the necklace from her hand and move behind her to carefully drape it around her neck. I don’t miss the shiver that runs through her when I sweep her long hair over one shoulder. “You deserve it.”

“But why?”

Something in the back of my mind flags this question as strange. She knows the exclusive jeweler, she apparently went to an elite boarding school, and I’ve watched her carry herself with the high-handed dignity of a proper socialite.

So why is she so skittish about receiving luxurious gifts?

Isn’t that something she should be used to?

“You’re doing all the heavy work carrying our baby,” I explain while turning her to face me. It feels so natural for my arms to rest around her waist, I leave them there. “Am I not allowed to show my appreciation for you?”

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