Page 153 of Wicked Proposal
Hesitantly, I touch my hand to his shoulder. I’m prepared to feel him flinch away, shrug me off like an insect, crush me for even daring.
But he doesn’t.
“I couldn’t catch their killers then,” he growls instead, filling the well of his pain with something easier, something manageable: anger. “But fuck if I’ll ever let that happen again.”
“That’s what StarTech is about,” I whisper. “Making people safe.”
“No one should ever be unsafe in their own homes,” he snarls. “At the office. At school. War should stick to war zones. Casualties shouldn’t be random. That’s why we have soldiers.”
I get the feeling he isn’t talking about the U.S. Army. That his wars have always taken place on much different battlefields, away from the sunlight and the surface.
That’s where he wants to keep them—inhisworld.
Away fromours.
Away from mine.
“It’s a noble thing to do.”
“It’s not. It’s the least I could do.”
“But you’re doing it.” I give his shoulder another soft squeeze. “That’s more than most in your position have tried.”
“How would you know?”
“I work at the ER. I’ve lost more patients to guns than cancer.” I give a watery smile. “So, if someone’s trying to fix that? I don’tcare who they are. I don’t care what they’ve done. They’re doing it. That’s what matters.”
Yulian’s gaze flickers from me to the floor. I’ve never seen him so evasive—so obviously uncomfortable.
“What happened with Kira…” he starts, throat working around words that won’t come. “I cannot guarantee it won’t happen again.”
I wonder if this is why Yulian doesn’t have a girlfriend. A real one, without contracts and timestamps. If losing Kira scarred him so badly he’s afraid to ever try.
“It was a long time ago,” I try to reason with him.
“It’s who I am,” he counters. “I’m a powerful man, a dangerous man. As long as I’mpakhan,I’ll have enemies.”
“I’ve been your fake girlfriend for a couple of months now.” I slide my palm down his arm, tug on his hand. Coax his gaze back on me instead of the cold tiled floor. “I’m still here. Nothing’s happened to me.”
“That’s not?—”
“Here.” Slowly, I move his hand to the center of my chest. Slightly off to the left—right over my heart. “See? Still beating.”
He swallows. His jaw flexes, but it doesn’t look like anger, for once. It looks like conflict.
It looks like?—
“Mommy!”
From above, Eli waves down at us. Tikhon’s there, holding on to his hand, preventing him from trying to run off somewhere he shouldn’t.
“Sorry about the interruption!” he laughs. “This little scientist was wondering about pizza. And ice cream?”
The spell breaks. Yulian’s hand slips quickly from my grasp, his composure returning like a veil of ice.
“Yes,” he says. “I believe that’s what was promised.”
“Lucky you,” Tikhon sighs wistfully. “I wish I had pizza and ice cream in my contract.”
