Page 48 of Claimed By Desire

“Okay, and none of this matters, because I’m not sleeping in your room.” I grab my box from the bed.

But he pulls it from my hands. “Yes, you are. I thought hard about this, Natalya, and this makes the most sense, at least so long as the Italians want us both dead. I need to be able to protect you.”

“What, being down the hall is too far?” I grab the box right back from him, glaring up into his annoying as fuck face. “That’s stupid, you’re stupid, and stop touching my stuff.”

He takes the box back. “Or else what?”

“Or else—“ I don’t know what. I’ll yell at him? Kick him in the balls? I try to take the box but he moves and I run right into him, knocking him off balance. He teeters, drops the box, and falls onto the bed.

And I fell on top of him.

For a moment, his hands are on my body again. He’s holding me against him and looking down with this fiery stare, and I remember that look from back in Paris. IT’s the same look he gave me when he walked into the room and I was playing piano without my clothes on.

“Careful,” I whisper, not sure who I’m even talking to at his point. I’m so fucking annoyed with him, but my pulse is racing out of control at how close we are right now.

“I’m being very careful with you,printsessa.”

A thrill runs into my stomach at the pet name, and for one stupid moment neither of us moves. I stay on top of him, and he keeps his hands on my hips, inches from my ass.

Until I realize how stupid this is and show myself away.

“Just stop being such an arrogant ass for once in your life, okay? We’re sleeping in separate rooms.”

“No, we aren’t. That guest room will become the baby’s nursery. The office will remain my office. And this is going to be our room. End of discussion.”

“God, you really think you know what’s best all the time, don’t you?”

“Only because I’m usually right.”

I stand there, glaring at him, heart racing, wishing he’d cross over here and take me by the hair and slams his mouth into mine, and hating myself just a little bit for wanting that, before I finally storm out with my hands thrown in the air.

I curlup on the couch in a nest of blankets and pillows but everything feels wrong.

It’s not just the situation—that’s bad enough—but it’s also the apartment. The sounds are different, the ceiling is different, just everything isdifferent, and no matter how many different breathing exercises I try, I just can’t fall asleep.

My Paris apartment was a little crap hole. It was tiny, cramped, way too hot, and smelled bad on trash day when the garbage piled up outside. But it wasmine, it was comfortable, and I found a way to be happy there.

All of this is Alex’s and I don’t know how I’m going to fit in.

I get up and drift outside. The night is cool and surprisingly comfortable. The view is absolutely gorgeous—lights sparkle off the Delaware and I can see New Jersey not that far away. I tip a toe into the pool and consider turning on the heater, but instead opt to stand at the railing, looking out at the night.

This is my life from now on.

I’m not sure how I ended up here.

I was never Daddy’s favorite—that was Stepan, followed by Lev—but at least he treated me decently. I was allowed to play sports. I could have friends, and some of them were even boys. I had acar, a part time job, and a little bit of freedom. I always knew this might be my future, but back then it seemed like I might escape one day.

And then slowly it became clear that wasn’t ever going to happen.

I just desperately wanted someone to understand me—to see me as someone worthy of love and attention for who I am and not for who my father is—but now I’m not sure it’ll ever happen. Alex cares about me, but only so far as I’m the wife of his child. Beyond that? I can’t really tell.

Now I’ve lost Lev too. The last person that truly loved me. My brother’s going to hate me forever for this, and I can’t even blame him.

I try not to cry, but tears stream down my face anyway.

All this for a baby.

The door slides open. I jolt and look over my shoulder as Alex appears beside me. He’s in tight black joggers and a light gray t-shirt. His hair’s messy from lying in bed and he’s got a slight bruise on his face from where my father hit him. He leans his elbows on the railing and doesn’t sa anything, only stares out across the water, and the light dances across his square jaw and full lips, and I can’t look anywhere else.

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