Page 71 of Sinful Bride

“Why on earth would I leave you out?” I turn her back around but keep her wrapped up in my arms. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

“I’m not in shape. My stomach?—”

“Is the best part about you.” I grab her hand when she tries to cover up her stomach, lacing my fingers with hers. “Among so many, many, many other perfect parts.”

She sighs, but I feel her lean into me. “You’re just saying that to get me in bed later.”

“I’d ask if it’s working, but you and I both know I don’t have to say a damn word to get you in bed,” I growl. “I’m saying it because it’s true. You are so fucking beautiful, Daphne. And the reminders of how we made our daughter only make you that much more so.”

Daphne turns her head to look at me. She’s so vulnerable and unsure. That’s fine—I’ll kiss and fondle and fuck the truth into her until she accepts it.

And then I’ll keep kissing and fondling and fucking reminders into her until the day I die.

For now, out in the open, I settle for kissing her. Slowly. Lovingly. Tenderly.

“Mr. Chekhov,” she breathes when we reluctantly break the kiss, “you do make a sound argument.”

Lev is grinning—an unusual sight to see on his face—as he hands me back my phone. I flip through the photos. My favorite of the batch?

I’m whispering something to her, a grin on my face, as she laughs.

We’re happy.

We’re real.

28

PASHA

“We’re being followed.”

Daphne pretends to laugh at something I told her and uses the opportunity to glance over her shoulder. “How do you know it’s them?” she asks.

“Unmarked cop cars always have that stupid spotlight on the sideview mirror.”

She pulls out her phone to take a selfie. When I glance at the screen, I see her zoom in on the car parked across the street behind us. The woman learns quickly, that’s for sure. “Ah, would you look at that? Huh. Crazy.”

I resist the urge to take another look. It’s a different model of sedan from the local police fleet, so I’m ready to bet good money it’s SAC Smithson. Sitting in that car, eating a fucking hotdog, watching us like a creep.

I almost feel bad for the bastard. Clearly, he’s got nothing better to do.

“So… what do we do if they get out of the car and want to talk to us?”

“Demand they call your lawyer, then shut the hell up.” I make a note to myself to get her a panic button key fob like mine. Maybe a secondary one in a bracelet, too.

“Do I have a lawyer?”

“We have a lawyer. We have several, actually. Any one of whom will tear that smug asshole a new one.”

I didn’t mention it until now, but Smithson has actually been following us for a while. Along the boardwalk, across the bridge, down into this neighborhood.

Daphne tenses up as she glances around. “Where are we, by the way?”

I grin in the gloom. “You don’t trust me to keep you safe?”

“I trust you. It’s the crazies with guns and knives I don’t trust.”

“Crazies are easy to overpower and disarm. It’s the calm, level-headed ones you have to be wary of.”

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