Page 87 of Inked Athena

“Fine,” I concede. “But I’m not looking to set any records.”

Myles’s grin widens. “When do I ever push you too hard?”

The memory of him fishing my drunk ass out of a Scottish loch flashes through my mind.

“Do you want the list chronologically or alphabetically?”

We hit the London streets at an easy pace. The late morning fog has burned away, leaving behind the kind of crisp autumn day that makes the city almost bearable. Almost.

I notice immediately when Myles veers us off the direct route back to the hotel. The same way I notice the three men who’ve been tailing us since we left the gym. They’re good—professionals keeping a careful distance.

But I’m better.

“Our fan club’s still with us,” I murmur, keeping my stride casual.

Myles nods almost imperceptibly. “Andropovs?”

“No. These are government types. Probably MI6 keeping tabs while I’m in their jurisdiction.”

“Should we lose them?”

I consider it. It would be easy enough—I know every rat hole and bolt spot in Mayfair from years of doing business here. But sometimes, being watched is useful. Let them think they know where I am, what I’m doing.

Let them think I’m just a businessman out for a morning run.

“Let them live,” I decide. “For now.”

Myles leads us down increasingly posh streets, past boutiques with eye-bleed-inducing price tags. The kind of places Katerinaused to frequent, draining my accounts dry while fucking my brother behind my back.

When he slows to a stop in front of Graff, my jaw tightens.

“Really?”

“What?” He bends to adjust his already-perfect laces. “Just thought we could browse. Maybe pick up something sparkly for that gorgeous woman carrying your child.”

“You’re about as subtle as a bullet to the head, man.”

“Hey, I’m just saying, if you’re going to mark your territory, might as well do it with diamonds.”

I scan the street, cataloging exits and angles of fire. Old habits. “This isn’t about marking territory.”

“No?” Myles straightens, his expression turning serious. “Then what’s it about? Because from where I’m standing, you’ve got a queen-level woman who somehow puts up with your shit. And instead of locking that down, you’re acting like a scared little bitch.”

The muscle in my jaw jumps. Anyone else who spoke to me like that would be gargling their own teeth.

But Myles isn’t anyone else. And he’s not entirely wrong.

“You want to have this conversation? Fine.” I claim a bench, positioning myself to watch both the street and the MI6 team trying to look inconspicuous across the way. “But you’re not going to like what you hear.”

“Try me.” Myles settles beside me, his casual posture belying his alertness. Like me, he’s tracking every movement around us.

“Marriage in our world isn’t about love. It’s about alliances. Power. Creating weaknesses that can be exploited.” My phone buzzes—a message from Nova. I ignore it, even though every cell in my body screams to check it. “I won’t make her a target.”

“She’s already a target.” Myles’s voice hardens. “Or did you forget about Ilya taking her? The warehouse? The fact that she’s carrying the next generation of Litvinov?”

A growl builds in my chest. As if I could forget. As if I don’t see her terrified face in my dreams, hear her screams when I close my eyes.

“That’s different.”

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