Page 127 of Wicked Proposal
I won’t lie, it’s a little hot.
“So, as I was saying,” I blurt before I let that train of thought reach Horny Station, “thanks. I really needed this. Though I promise I won’t make a habit of it.”
His fingers flex. I feel like he wants to say something, but he’s keeping himself in check.
I shouldn’t get my hopes up, though. Earlier, when he mentioned the contract, my fantasies carried me so far away I had to hitch a cab back to reality. Because the truth is, I thought he wanted to break it. To do away with it all and just?—
What? Keep you?The ugly part of me, the one that sounds so much like Brad, sneers.Right. As if.
He’s right, though. Yulian is basically a Forbes Prince Charming on steroids, with none of the charm and all of the guns.
Whereas me? I’m nobody. I’m poor, broken, used. I’ve got baggage for two lifetimes.
I’ve got a son.
And Yulian made it clear he doesn’t want that.
It’s so easy to forget, though. He’s so good with him. Withus.So patient, kind, and every other good word I never thought I’d use to describe Yulian Lozhkin.
But I can’t pretend this is more than it is. We have a contract, and that’s not going anywhere. We have sex—amazing, Earth-shattering sex—but that’s it.
It doesn’t mean we’re ever going to be anything else.
I should let it be enough.
“Fire.”
It’s a whisper, small and weak. My head turns instantly to Eli. “Honey?”
“Fire,” he whines again. His eyes are squeezed shut, his tiny body tossing and turning in his sleep. “There’s fire everywhere…”
Yulian’s immediately on high alert. “What’s wrong with him?”
“Nightmares.” I don’t elaborate any further, waking Eli up instead. “Eli,” I call as I gently shake his shoulders. “Baby, wake up. You’re dreaming.”
His eyes blink open. Instantly, they fill with tears. “Mommy,” he sniffles. “I’m sorry. I used the stove, I?—”
“Hush,” I whisper, gathering him up in my arms. “It’s okay. It was just a dream. Mommy’s got you now.”
It goes on like this for a while: Eli apologizing, me comforting him. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell him it’s not his fault, that he’s got nothing to apologize for. That day is etched in his mind, in fire and smoke and all that came after.
Because of me.
Yulian shifts. I can tell he’s uncomfortable, that he has no idea how to handle this. It must be a first for him—not knowing what to do in a crisis.
But I get it. He didn’t sign up for this. Nor for any of the mess I’ve put him through.
“Where’s Garfield?” Eli mumbles. “He didn’t burn, did he?”
“He’s fine,” Yulian says. “I’ll go get?—”
“No!” Quick as lightning, Eli’s small hand grabs Yulian’s. “Please, don’t go.”
Yulian stares at Eli’s fingers. His tiny knuckles, white with effort. “Okay,” he says eventually. “I won’t. I’ll stay right here.”
It takes a few more minutes to calm him down. Even longer to convince him to let Yulian go. I’m mortified, but the motherly side of me can’t spare much thought for how awkward Yulian must be feeling.
Right now, all my focus is on my son.
