Page 47 of Brutal Monster
The truth of it hits harder than I expect. Fear has been my currency for so long I've forgotten how to trade in anything else. But Inez never flinches. She matches me, move for move.
"I don't know how to do this," I admit, the words barely audible.
Mikhail doesn't pretend to misunderstand. "None of us do. We make it up as we go." He reaches over, claps a hand on myshoulder. "But I've seen you adapt to survive worse than loving a woman who loves you back."
I don't correct him, don't tell him that Inez has never used that word, that word that feels like a grenade with the pin pulled. Neither have I. We speak in actions, in concessions, and in desire.
But I know what I feel when she enters a room. I know what it means that I've changed my security protocols to accommodate her presence. I know why I wake up reaching for her before I'm fully conscious.
"To the women who've ruined us," Mikhail says, raising his glass again.
This time, I drink.
I drain my glass and push to my feet. "I'm going to check on Inez."
Mikhail nods, a knowing smile playing at his lips. "Go. I'll entertain myself."
The cool air of the mansion hits me as I step inside, a welcome relief from the heat. Security nods as I pass, eyes forward, hands ready. I've trained them well. They see everything and nothing.
The hallway to our suite stretches long, and my footsteps echo against the marble. Our suite. Still strange to think of anything as ours. I've never shared space, not willingly.
I open the door quietly, slipping inside. The room is dim, curtains drawn against the afternoon sun. And there she is. Inez lies curled on her side atop the covers, still in the black silk slip dress she’s worn since morning. Her breathing comes deep and even, one hand tucked beneath her cheek.
I stand watching her for a moment. In sleep, the sharp edges that match my own soften just slightly. The furrow between her brows eases. But even now, her jaw remains set with determination.
I remove my shoes, my watch, and place my phone on silent. Then I slide onto the bed behind my future wife, careful not to disturb. The mattress dips beneath my weight. She stirs slightly, but doesn't wake.
Slowly, I curve my body around hers, fitting us together like nested blades. My arm slides over Inez's waist, drawing her against my chest. She makes a slight sound in her throat, then relaxes back into me.
"Mmm." Her voice is thick with sleep. "What time is it?"
"Early still." I press my lips to her hair, breathing in the scent of her. "Go back to sleep."
She turns in my arms instead, facing me. Those green eyes blink open, instantly alert despite the drowsiness. Always ready. Always vigilant. Just like me.
"How was your talk with Mikhail?" Her hand comes up to rest against my chest, warm through my shirt.
"Good." I trace the line of her jaw with my thumb. "He's becoming domestic."
Her lips curve. "And you find that amusing."
"I find it... unexpected."
She studies my face, reading what I don't say. No one has ever been able to do that before. It's both terrifying and exhilarating.
"What is it?" she asks.
The whiskey makes me brave. Or perhaps it's the way she looks at me, like she sees past the empire to the man. The question I've been avoiding rises to my lips before I can stop it.
"Could you ever love me, Inez?"
Her body stills against mine. For a moment, I think I've poorly miscalculated. Then her fingers curl into my shirt, holding on.
"What makes you think I don't already?" Her voice is barely audible.
The admission hits like a bullet – clean, precise, devastating. I struggle to find words, my usual command of language deserting me.
"You've never said."
