Page 119 of Seizing Control: Part Two

I respect Layla.

I’ve also been through her personnel file.

She has complex PTSD from Hugh and Alex’s attack when she was sixteen, and hasn’t been open to exploring relationships outside of work. Layla would go for my throat if I dared describe her interactions with Cub as anything but work, except it’s obvious that it is a lot deeper than business.

He would know that she works for me otherwise.

But I’ve been forbidden from disclosing that information.

“I’ll check in with the security team,” Layla tells me as we wait in the parking garage for the elevator to reach us. “We’ll reconvene at Cherub’s room in half an hour.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

Her only response to sarcasm is an eye roll that would put Lily to shame.

Chuckling, I step off the elevator and head for Lily’s hospital room. The little gift I have for her is burning a hole in my pocket, and I’m hoping I’ll be able to give it to my woman, despite this morning’s banishment. After slowly edging the door to my sweet thing’s room open, I pause. Gaze darting around the brightly lit empty space, I listen to see if she’s in the bathroom. When I can’t hear water running or the sounds of someone moving around, I step inside. The machine monitoring her vitals is missing too. Garrett’s port-a-cot has been turned into a playpen, but he is absent as well.

I breathe a sigh of relief.

The last thing I want to do is argue with her.

The week I spent away from her, cutting off the poison invading the underworld at the knees, cementing my allegiances, kissing the ring of the Trinity in the old country so they’d okay my reign, was hard as hell. I missed her. Wanted nothing more than to be by her side. Even as I comprehended that the moves I was making were for her.

For the safety of our growing family.

To solidify the power that I will wield to protect both my woman and my kids.

Her decision to evict me and Slash from her room in the early hours of this morning is a sign of how serious she is about her demand for action over words. No lies. No secrets. No leaving. Three things that I’m fully on board with, and that’s why I don’t feel as guilty as I should when I take advantage of the small window provided by her absence to leave a little reminder of my love.

I’ve spent forty-five days surviving her cold shoulder.

I can take a lifetime of Lily’s punishment if it means she trusts me in the end.

Head held high, stride assured, I am a man on a mission as I place the three bracelet charms on the chest of drawers at the head of her bed. Two of the pendants were hastily crafted out of pieces I’d previously rejected. Three cherubs, smaller than the one representing their imma that already hangs on her bracelet. Their eyes are blue sapphires to match the other charms on her bracelet—to show that I’m well versed in the Lily’s likes and dislikes. Everything I craft is done with her in mind.

I am her artist.

She is my muse.

Two of the cherubs are smaller than the third. Those pieces signify our twins, the only differentiation provided by the thing they’re holding. A bow with a single arrow and a skull. My baby girl protects herself. Her brother is a defender.

The slightly bigger cherub charm wields a flaming sword.

Denoting my woman’s unextinguishable fire and his father’s proclivity with blades.

This was the first pendant I made. Designed for Garrett. A way to show Lily and, eventually, her son that I accept him. Without recriminations, censure, and resentment. His life is a blessing, no matter the circumstances in which he was conceived, and I know my sweet thing well enough to understand that this is also her point-of-view on this.

While I was initially rattled by her easy acceptance of him, I get it now.

I’ve loved him since the first time I locked eyes on him.

In the same way Lily became mine the first time I held her, so did Garrett.

The little man isn’t to blame for his existence.

That falls on his parents.

Mainly on Slash.

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