Page 102 of About Love and Revenge

Every now and then I ask Odin about Mom, and he replies that, despite not having the exact location of where they are hiding at the moment, every time Leandros is spotted, Mom is with him, which makes me feel a little more at ease. I don't know if she would survive being abandoned. My mother has lived her life for love of my father.

However, I now realize that even after nearly thirty-five years together, she doesn’t know anything about her husband.

I don't want to be that person, a woman whose partner doesn't respect her or who doesn't trust her. I don't want to turn myself into a doll, a pretty ornament used only for sex and leisure time but who doesn't really know the person she has been living with.

When the car pulls up in front of the building, I wait for security to come and open the door. I'm used to this procedure now. The first time I tried to jump out without waiting for them, this guy Grigori came over and looked like he was going to have a heart attack.

He explained to me all the reasons why I should stay inside the car until one of his men opened the door, and I ended up agreeing so as not to upset him. I'm pretty sure he doesn't like me. Not because of anything he’s said, but because of the way he looks at me.

After I finally get out of the car, I'm escorted by bodyguards, and as we walk, I can see the curiosity on the faces of people on the sidewalk. I don't meet their eyes. I don't like to attract attention, and I control the urge to wring my hands. Showing fear will only make them think they can get to me. I learned my lesson well from my father.

We get into a private elevator, and now only half of the security guards accompany me. I'm nervous. It's the first time I’ve come to his office, although we've already attended several events as a couple.

I try to pretend I don't see the secretary's gaze as the elevator doors open. She evaluates every bit of me, but I don't fidget; I don't show that I'm bothered.

To my relief, in a few seconds, Odin appears in front of me. His expression makes me forget everything: the secrets we both keep from each other, how it’s not a good idea for us to think about a future together, how I might get hurt if I stay with him and hope for ahappilyever after.

All those worries fade away when he reaches out to me without saying anything.

I walk over to where he is, as I do every night at our house, not even remembering that people are watching us. After placing my hand in his, I stand on my tiptoes and kiss his lips.

He looks surprised for a moment and then grabs the back of my neck, kissing me back.

The contact doesn't last long, because he places his hand on the small of my back, guiding me to his office and telling the secretary, “Hold all calls. I don't want to be interrupted.”

I pretend I don't notice the woman's astonishment.

As soon as I enter, I try to absorb as much information as I can. Even though we live together, his apartment doesn't say much about who he is.

Here in his office, it's different. It's all veryOdin.

From the heavy, dark furniture to the black leather armchair. From the way everything is laid out neatly on his desk to the Persian rug I'm standing on.

It's like unraveling more parts of my man, and I look around, fascinated.

“Do you like it?”

I turn to face him. He's standing behind me, hands in the pockets of his suit pants.

I should be used to what seeing him does to me by now, but I'm still just as stunned as when I saw him the night of the party at his house.

“Very much. It suits you better than the apartment.”

“Before we started dating, I didn't spend enough time there to care.”His expression becomes concerned. “I didn't say it before, but you're free to change whatever you want in our home.”

My heart starts beating really fast, because even with my lack of relationship experience, I know what he's offering me. Odin is closed off, and that simple sentence shows me that he really meant what he said in our conversation in Montana.

I try so hard not to be happy, but I can't help it. “Anything?” I ask, trying to keep my face neutral.

“What?”

“Can I change anything?”

“Except my collection of old cars.”

Now I smile for real.

He, my powerful CEO—and to many others, a terrifying man—still has a boyish side.

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