Page 147 of Mile High Daddy

A small, humorless smile tugs at his lips. “It was mostly adrenaline.”

I stare at him. This man, this impossible, infuriating man, carried me here while bleeding out himself.

My eyes sting.

I press my forehead against his, my breath hitching.

Mikhail doesn’t move away. He just holds me closer.

A sob breaks from my lips.

“Don’t cry,kiska,” he murmurs, his voice softer than I’ve ever heard it.

But I can’t stop. My hands clutch at his shirt, gripping him like I can anchor myself to this moment, to him.

I swallow hard. “I was dreaming, and I thought I lost you.”

Mikhail’s arms tighten around me, like he’s trying to pull me into him, fuse me to his body. His jaw brushes my temple, and I feel him exhale, slow and deep, like he’s trying to keep himself together.

“You will never lose me,” he murmurs.

I pull back slightly, just enough to look at him. His face is raw, stripped of all his usual steel and coldness. His gray eyes are bare, open, filled with something so fierce it steals my breath.

My chest constricts.

“I love you.”

The words slip out before I can stop them, before I can second-guess myself.

Mikhail’s breath catches.

Something breaks in his face, something deep and devastating. And then he’s cupping my face, his thumb brushing my trembling lip, his gaze burning into me.

“I love you,kiska.” His voice is hoarse, raw. “I have since the moment I saw you.”

A sob escapes me, but this time, it’s not from fear or pain—it’s relief.

Mikhail pulls me against him again, his forehead pressing to mine, our breaths tangled, our hearts pounding in sync.

“I love you,” he murmurs again, like he needs me to believe it, to feel it.

I do.

I always have.

I squeeze his hand and grip his shirt, my fingers curling into the fabric.

“I need to see them,” I whisper, my voice shaking. “Take me to them.”

Mikhail squeezes my hand back. “They’re in the NICU,” he says carefully. “They came early, but the doctors say they’re strong. The nurses will take you to see them soon.”

The NICU.

The words send a fresh wave of panic through me.

I shake my head, trying to sit up. “Mikhail?—”

His hands are on my shoulders instantly, firm but gentle as he eases me back against the pillows. “You just had surgery, Lila. You need to rest for a little longer.” His voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it, but there’s no room for argument.

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