Page 20 of Hers to Control

His brows draw down in obvious displeasure, and I honestly think it’s the first time he’s allowed his emotions to show so clearly on his face. Looks like Gianna was right in her prediction that he’d put up an argument.

“I’m not your problem, and she’s my friend. You can drive me there, or I can leave your place and go there myself.”

He stares at the street in front of him as he drives, taking a moment before he gives a curt nod.

I have no idea what he’s thinking, but whatever it is, this is a good precedent, because if I’ll let Eric stick around to help keep me safe, the one thing I need more than anything is to stay in control.

Chapter Eight

Eric

My teeth hurt by the time we get to Gianna’s place, and I try to relax my muscles. It shouldn’t surprise me Mia doesn’t want to come to my place. We don’t know each other. Not really.

She might be the mother of my unborn child, but she doesn’t trust me. And why would she? It’s not like I’ve done a bang-up job protecting her so far.

I park off to the side of the long driveway. Later, I’ll move the car to the garage, but for now, I want to get Mia into the house.

Gianna is exiting her car at the same time as me.

“Go ahead,” I call. “We’ll be right behind you.”

She gives a nod and heads into her house. It’s the house I grew up in and where I felt at home until I let my uncle get killed. Since then, it hasn’t felt the same.

Probably also because Gianna is now shacking up with Mikhail. Nothing against the guy, but heisa Russian psychopath.

I walk around the car to open Mia’s door, but she is out of the vehicle before I’ve made it halfway. Her expression tells me that this is her first time visiting Gianna. She takes in the massive villa with interest and curiosity, not the look of someone who has seen it all before.

I nod towards the door where Gianna has just disappeared inside. “Go ahead. I’ll get your bag.”

Mia’s expression turns into her stubborn mask again, and if I wasn’t such a cold bastard, I might have found it endearing.

“Look,” I say, “I get it. You don’t want to be here, and you certainly don’t want to be here with me. But we need to figure things out. It’s not just about you and me anymore. There’s a kid involved.” That’s about as sensitive as she’s getting from me, but instead of looking appeased by my words, Mia’s chin juts out further.

“I can get my own bag.”

“That’s your problem?” The incredulity coloring my voice cannot be disguised. I mean, what the fuck is her problem?

She hesitates for a moment, her eyes darting between me and the car, then she shrugs. “Fine, you carry it.”

Not waiting for me to react, she heads towards the door. I watch her every step, trying to suppress the strange mix of irritation and amusement. If I don’t pay attention, this woman is going to turn my head and distract me from what matters.

I have someone to protect again, and this time I won’t fail. Not even when her ass looks majestic in those pants, making itdifficult to keep my mind on the fact that the fucking Russians laid their hands on her. That they are still coming for her.

As she disappears into the house, I let out a long breath, then grab her bag from the car with my left hand, pulling my knife from my belt with my right. Time to focus.

I find Mia standing in the foyer, her fingers lightly tracing the ornate table by the door. She doesn’t look up as I approach, but I can still see the wariness in her eyes.

“Come on,” I say, gesturing towards the living room.

Surprisingly, she actually follows.

Anton, the Bruno’s family butler, brings in a tray with sandwiches. “Signora Bruno will be in shortly. Can I get you something to drink?” He directs his question at Mia.

“A water would be nice, thank you.”

“Flat or sparkling? We also have some flavored options.”

“Sparkling, please, but no flavor.” Mia gives him a smile, and it pisses me off that I haven’t seen that expression on her face very often. She’s still visibly stressed, but the smile softens her.

---