Page 120 of Wicked Proposal
It makes my blood boil. It makes my gun hand itch. It makes me want to murder that son of a bitch with my own bare hands, feel his body kick uselessly as I squeeze, watch the life fade from his goddamn eyes.
But Mia needed me. And at that moment, she mattered more than payback.
On the Brooklyn Bridge, her voice finally breaks the silence. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.
It catches me by surprise. “You’re apologizing again.”
“Well, I ruined your night again.” There’s sadness in her words. Regret. “That deserves an apology, doesn’t it?”
“No.”
She blinks at me, stunned. “What?”
I cup her face. Force her to keep those blue eyes on me—onlyme. “I already told you,kotyonok.Either you stop apologizing for things that aren’t your fault, or I’ll make you.”
Her body goes slack in my grip. Pliant, like clay. Right now, I could do anything to her, and she’d let me.
I could push her into the backseat. Could work my hands up and down her body, touch her just the way she likes. Make her gasp, moan, scream my name like it’s the only one she’s ever known.
But I won’t.
Not tonight.
Instead, I pull her forehead close to mine. Touch our heads together like Kira used to do to me, back when we were kids, back when she’d find me crying in a corner of the garden because I saw something I shouldn’t.
I was soft back then, too soft for the role the world had carved out for me, but she never held it against me. Never.
I won’t hold Mia’s softness against her, either.
“Yulian?” she whispers.
“Close your eyes.”
She does. Tonight, she won’t question anything I ask of her.
“Breathe.”
She obeys. I can feel the warm air leave her nose, brushing my lips on the way out.
“You’re safe here,” I tell her. “As long as you’re with me, Brad can’t touch you.”
“And after?” she asks in a small, quivering voice.
After.Somehow, I’d forgotten there was one. A future where Mia isn’t on my arm, in my car, in my bed.
“After,” I begin, stroking her cheek in time with her breathing, “you’ll be free. You’ll decide who touches you.”
Every instinct is screaming to claim her, pull her close and never let go, but I can’t trust that part of me. It’s the part that makes mistakes. The part that fails.
That part of me needs to die.
Once the Maybach rolls to a stop, I walk Mia upstairs. I don’t want any surprises. I won’t let her out of my sight until I know she’s truly safe.
The irony of that stabs me right in the gut. If there’s anyone Mia should be afraid of, it’s not Brad Baldwin—it’sme.I’m the one putting her in danger. The one shoving her into the line of fire, one trap after another.
“Mia.”
She turns, eyes rimmed with red. “Yes?”
