Page 126 of Mile High Daddy

For so long, I convinced myself that I hated Mikhail. That he was the worst thing to ever happen to me. That if I could just escape him, I’d be free.

But…what is freedom, really?

Was I free when I was alone in Camden Hill, lying awake at night with my hands on my belly, wondering if I’d made a mistake?

Was I free when I woke up gasping from dreams about him, dreams where I still felt his hands on me, his breath on my skin, his voice whispering in my ear?

Was I free when, after months of convincing myself that I didn’t want him, I still longed for him in the quiet moments, still felt his absence like a missing piece of myself?

And now—he’s here.

And I don’t want him to leave.

The realization hits me so suddenly, so violently, that I almost flinch.

I love him.

I, Lila Evans, love Mikhail Ivanov.

The truth settles deep into my bones, terrifying and inevitable all at once.

I can’t fight it anymore.

I can’t pretend he’s just some villain in my story, some nightmare I need to wake up from.

Because the truth is—he’s everything.

I swallow, glancing up at my mother, who’s still watching me closely, expectantly.

But what am I supposed to say? That I love the man who stole me?

That I love the man who bound me to him in a forced marriage, who hunts his enemies like a wolf, who lives in a world drenched in blood and loyalty?

That, despite all of that, he is the only place that has ever felt like home?

I can’t.

I won’t.

So instead, I say, “It’s complicated.”

Her eyes darken. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

I force a small smile, even though my chest feels too tight.

You and me both, Mom.

My mother hesitates, her lips parting like she’s about to say something important. “Lila, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

I glance at my phone and frown. “Too late,” I say, standing up. “My ride should be here any minute.”

Her brows furrow, like she wants to protest, but I’m already grabbing my bag and heading for the door. “We’ll talk later, okay?” I say over my shoulder.

I don’t wait for an answer as I step outside.

The morning air is crisp, the faint hum of traffic drifting from the main road. I spot Maggie’s car idling at the curb and jog down the steps.

As soon as I slide into the passenger seat, I glance around, confused.

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