Page 51 of Hers to Control

In the other room, the sheets rustle before footsteps approach the bathroom. Eric doesn’t hesitate at the door before stepping inside. There are still glass pieces lying around the sink, since neither of us bothered contacting room service to get it cleaned. Last night, Eric at least used a towel to sweep the pieces on the floor to the side, so we no longer risk stepping into them.

He comes up behind me, the same way he did yesterday. This time, I’m not shaking. This time I meet his gaze steadily in the shattered mirror. It’s a fucked up representation of my life, and yet the broken glass helps me see more clearly.

“You came for me.”

Eric stares back at me, not moving. “You’re mine.”

I shake my head. “I don’t belong to you.”

“Of course you do. You’re my family now.” The words should piss me off, but somehow, they don’t.

I huff out a breath of air. “Family means shit where I come from.”

Eric nods. “Your father is a grade-A asshole, that’s for sure.”

“But you came for me.”

Never in my life did I break down the way I did yesterday. I never thought it would be possible to let my guard down the way I did with someone else around. Maybe I could just blame it on the shock, the adrenaline, or the fucked up mess that happened to me, but I know none of that fully explains the way Eric’s presence makes me feel safe now.

Because he came for me.

For the first time in my life, someone was truly there for me. Not just as a favor, but because he cared.

Sure, Gianna had sent Eric to help me get away. She’s a good friend, and I’ll never forget the help she offered me, but this is different. The way Eric looked when Dr. Artino told us Peanut was still there wasn’t something I would ever forget.

I turn around and put my hands on his chest. “Tell me why Anya helped you. Tell me why she helped me.”

With the emotional turmoil of the previous day gone, I’m feeling drained, but also more aware. It makes no sense for Mikhail’s sister to have helped us, and yet I’d spoken to her myself.

Eric’s expression changes back to the passive look I now know so well. The kind that keeps all his emotions hidden, as if all he is capable of is being an emotionless killer. But I know better now. I saw the relief in his eyes when Dr. Artino called.

“I need to know, Eric. This is my life they are messing with. I deserve to know.”

His knife is back in his hand. I didn’t even see him pull it from its sheath, but I’m hardly surprised. The thing belongs to him as if it’s part of his personality.

It should be a reminder of the danger he presents to me, but all I can think of is that he used that very knife to rescue me. To kill Victor.

“All right,” Eric agrees, “but let’s order some food first.”

Eric

Mia is staring at me in that same defiant way she had when I first brought her to our U.S. safe house. Seeing that fire back in her eyes soothes some of the hate in me.

“Eat something,” I order, needing to make sure she’s taken care of.

“When you start talking, I’ll eat,” she counters, and I find myself grinning at her.

My smile fades quickly enough as she meets my gaze levelly and waits for me to recount how I went behind Gianna’s back. How I broke my oath to the family.

“Tsepov senior used Anya to tell Mikhail that they knew about you being in the U.S. safe house. That they knew you are pregnant. So when the Russians took you, I asked Gianna to get Mikhail to reach out to Anya to figure out how we could get to you. Make some deal if necessary.”

Mia’s eyebrows lift, but she doesn’t say a word, just looking at me as she lifts a fry to her mouth.

“Gianna said no, so I did it myself.” I spit the words out quickly, forcing myself not to reach for my knife, even as my fingers prickle with the need to touch it.

Mia chews slowly, as if trying to win time to decide what to say. It’s driving me mad, but I stay still. I know how to do that at least. I’ve spent too many hours to count silently standing off to the side, providing protection, or waiting silently in a dark corner before sending someone a lasting message, courtesy of the Bruno family.

This waiting is different, though.

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