Page 64 of Beautiful Scar

That simple gesture quiets the blazing fire in my chest.

Fuck, she calms me down.

I don’t know how she manages it, but some of the tension in my shoulders slowly eases away and my hands relax.

“Let me place them outside at least,” I say, stroking my fingers down her back. I like the way she shivers under my touch.

Her eyebrows raise. “Where, exactly?”

“In the hall at your door. Also outside of the house by your windows. If I can’t see in here, at least I can be sure nobody’s trying to break in.”

She sighs and rubs her forehead, but she reluctantly nods. “That seems reasonable, but nowhere that can see inside.”

“Plus motion sensors. Multiple floodlights. A siren?—”

“Tigran, please don’t go overboard.”

“Safety, little kitten, your fucking safety above all else.” I give her ass a swat and kiss her. “I’d better get to work.”

“My husband is a madman,” she says with a dramatic sigh.

But she fucking likes that, and we both know it.

I flipto the video feed right outside her bedroom window. The trees are quiet and the leaves shimmer as the wind blows through. A woman is pushing a stroller down the sidewalk—I can just barely see her in the top corner. The garden’s quiet.

I desperately wish I could see in there right now, but this is the best I can get without pissing her off and making her feel violated. Her safety is important, but she also has tofeelsafe.

What good is all the security in the world if you don’t feel comfortable in your own home?

I want that for my wife. I understand that her whole world is her suite of rooms, and placing cameras throughout would only make it feel like every inch of her existence has been violated.

Still… I can imagine Dasha inside that room. Cuddling with blankets and reading one of those novels she loves. Her lips parted as she talks softly to herself. Or maybe pacing around and straightening up.

Normal things. Average, regular shit everyone does. And I wish I could be there for all of it.

Instead, I’m parked on a street corner deep in McGrath territory, watching some lowlife Irish fucks sell drugs.

They’re not even good at it. That pisses me off the most. Their security is terrible. I’ve been here for two hours, and they haven’t even noticed me. I’m in a normal beat-up sedan and I’m wearing a hat with sunglasses, but still. Any competent street-level thug should know enough to realize when someone’s staking them out.

These guys are just awful.

All their sales happen in plain sight too. There are three of them: two guards and a salesman. If any cops are watching, they’re gathering enough evidence to put these idiots behind bars forever. Money passing hands, product right there in the guy’s goddamn pocket.

It’s honestly shameful.

And worse, those are my drugs they’re profiting on.

Fucking bastards. I switch to the camera in the hallway outside her door. There’s no motion at all. One of the guards is standing nearby, swiping at his phone. I’m about to call him and tell him he can either stay alert or I’ll cut his throat when I get a message.

Dasha: I’ve been thinking about the camera thing some more.

My heart rate increases with surprise. Why the hell am I reacting like some petty little schoolboy or some shit?

Tigran: And what are you thinking?

Dasha: Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if you could see more of me.

Dasha: Please don’t say anything, okay? I’m taking a risk here…

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