Page 8 of Taming a Ruthless Heart

The door to Alexia’s room creaks as I open it, shattering the early morning silence.I enter cautiously, aware that my staff is still asleep.The soft sunlight filtering through the windows casts long shadows on the walls, making me hesitate for a moment in the doorway.But then I see her.She paces back and forth for the length of the untouched bed, which means she didn’t use it last night.Her bare feet move silently across the carpet.She’s pacing in nothing but my shirt, her movements tight, like a caged animal.

Seeing her in my shirt stirs something deep inside me—something I’ve buried for too long.My focus should be on the mission, not on the past, not on her.I push it down, but it lingers, nagging at me.

Now isn’t the time.It can’t be.

This isn’t about me and my feelings.

She stops in her tracks when she hears the door.Her head snaps up and she turns to face me, her hazel eyes wide.For a split second, relief flashes across her features before it is replaced by apprehension and wariness.There’s something different about her now—an uncertainty and fragility that I’ve never seen before.It’s a far cry from the fierce, defiant woman she used to be.Then, she had a fire that burned through every wall I’d put up.Now, she’s defensive, fearful.What happened to her to cause this transformation?I don’t believe motherhood alone would do this.

Her body tenses as if she’s considering running away, but then she steadies herself and stands tall, shoulders stiff.There’s something in her posture, an edge of fragility beneath the surface, like she’s holding herself together by the sheer power of her will.Then again, she was always a strong-willed girl growing up.

“Alexia,” I murmur, forcing myself to step inside, then shutting the door behind me.“We need to talk.”The room feels too small, too charged with the weight of everything we never told each other.

I take another step forward, forcing my face into the cold, controlled mask I wear too damn well.But then I catch her gaze, those familiar hazel eyes filled with a fire that’s somehow dulled, and a beat too long passes before I look away.My hand twitches, almost reaching for her—an unconscious pull I barely restrain.I clench my fist at my side instead, nails digging in, forcing myself to remember who I am now—who she made me become when she left.I can’t afford to let her see how much she still affects me.

A muscle pulses in her cheek as she sets her jaw tightly.She struggles to steady her breath as she demands, “I want to see Rose.Why am I still locked in here?”

Despite admiring her courage, I need to establish rules and boundaries for our new relationship.I move closer, with slow and deliberate footsteps, my eyes never leaving hers.“Watch your tone, Alexia.Nobody orders me around.”She blinks a couple of times and I can almost hear the gears grinding in her head.When she doesn’t back down, I add in a flat tone, “Moira’s already explained to you why you were kept here.I’ll take you to Rose myself today.”

She lowers her chin a fraction as an audible sigh escapes her.“Where are my clothes?”

“We had to scan you and your phone for tracking devices.I had your clothes burned.I didn’t want to take any chances—there’s new technology in fabrics that can’t be easily detected.”

Frustration flashes in her eyes as she presses her lips together in a thin line.“I’m not your prisoner, Dave.”

I step closer until I’m just a foot away from her and towering over her small frame.“You’re not?”I snicker, arching an eyebrow and tilting my head to the right.“Then what the hell are you,Sandy?”I taunt, using my old nickname for her.Her sharp intake of breath tells me I hit a nerve.“Because from my view point, you’re right back in my life, under my roof, playing by my rules.”

Her cheeks flush but there’s a defiant fierceness in her eyes that tells me she won’t let me intimidate her.Or that she’s contemplating calling my bluff.She had me wrapped around her finger before.Now, she clenches her hands at her sides, but they stay steady.Although she’s afraid, her fear won’t stop her from standing her ground.“You don’t have to do it like this.I didn’t ask for?—”

“For what, my help?”I interrupt, my pent-up anger erupting after all those years.“What the fuck do you think you did when you called me?You begged me.So don’t act like you didn’t want this.”

There’s a spark of terror in her gaze that breaks my already fragile resolve.I reach for her cheek, still intending to stay detached.The warmth of her skin catches me off guard, a shock to the coldness I’d forced into my heart.My thumb brushes over her cheek in an unintended, lingering motion—a softness I can’t afford, yet can’t resist either.

I clear my throat, trying to keep my voice steady.“What’s going on?”I force calm into my words, pretending I hadn’t just broken my own rules.

An unbearable silence hangs in the air, heavy with unspoken words and ancient feelings.When she breaks it, her voice trembles while fear creases her expression.“Everyone knows Igor is a violent, cruel man.”Her eyes dart around before returning to mine.“I’m afraid of what he might do to Rose.”

“Cruelty takes many forms, Alexia.What exactly do you mean?”I scan her face for clues.

She drops her head to escape me.

I tuck a finger under her chin to lift it.

“Igor’s slapped Rose a few too many times over the years,” she explains in a small voice.

Disgust sours my gut.

“She’s a four-and-a-half-year-old girl!”I fume, before realizing the obvious.“And he struck you when you tried to protect Rose?”

Alexia nods.

“Son of a bitch!”My heart plummets at the thought.

I have to remind myself: Alexia isn’t mine to protect anymore.The memory of when I last saw her with Igor does it.Two weeks ago, we were at a charity dinner.Her hand was draped over his arm as she made the rounds.She was radiant.She always seems to thrive in these social events.

I refocus on the present.This situation with Rose is horrible.Yet I don’t believe she’d ask for my help over this.

“Why did you say Rose was in danger?What aren’t you telling me?”

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