It’s only because I haven’t had sex in five years, I remind myself. And he was my last and, let’s face it, the best sex I’ve ever had.
Sure, my experience was limited, but even so, I know our chemistry was off-the-freakin’-charts hot. Maybe it’s my body responding to his pheromones or something.
His eyes darken as I tilt my head up like I might kiss him, and the air between us crackles. His breath catches, giving away the crack in his composure.
Two can play this game. I can affect him just as much as he affects me.
I trail one finger down the center of his chest, slow and deliberate, before letting my hand fall away.
“You should get used to hearing ‘no’ from me,” I murmur. “Because you’re going to hear it a lot.”
He chuckles, not at all fazed. “We’ll see about that. Would you like to see our room?”
Our room?The words hit me like ice water.
“Case in point. There is no ‘our’ room. I’ll be sleeping here with my son.”
His jaw tightens. “You can stay with Kin this week while he adjusts. After that, you sleep with me, your husband.”
Jesus, he must be delusional. It’s not a request, not even a demand, but a simple statement of fact.
I parrot his words from earlier. “We’ll see about that.”
Without saying more, I turn and walk into the room to join Kin, who’s busy examining replica dinosaur fossils in glass cases. Jesus. Pavel really didn’t hold back.
“Look, Mama! Dinosaur bones!” Kin points excitedly at a mini archaeological set. How did Pavel manage to pull this off in twelve hours?
I crouch beside Kin, aware of Pavel’s intense stare boring into my back. His presence throws me off balance, like a compass needle spinning wildly near a magnet.
“I have to take care of some business,” Pavel says. “Lunch will be served soon. If you need anything, find Yarik. He’s always around.”
When the door shuts behind him, I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and sink onto the edge of the bed, watching my son happily play.
A burst of laughter from outside pulls me from my thoughts. I move to the window, drawn by the sound of children’s voices. Below, in a sprawling pool surrounded by lush gardens, several kids splash and play. A boy about Kin’s age, with blond curls and a loud voice, performs a perfect cannonball off the side while Dinara claps her approval.
They look so normal and happy.
Kin would love it out there.
The thought comes unbidden, followed by a wave of guilt. These people—these families—are part of the organization that hunted me and forced me into hiding.
Yet when I think back over the last twenty-four hours, Pavel Fedorov is the only reason I’m still breathing. Simon was prepared to put a bullet in my head, all because I refused to leave an island under attack without my child.
I swallow hard and stare at the closed door. I don’t know how to reconcile any of it and what it means that my survival came from the man I once feared most.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
PAVEL
My eyes burnfrom staring at spreadsheets, the blue glow of the monitor the only light in my office. It’s way too fucking early in the morning, but this is what no one tells you about running a criminal empire: seventy-five percent of it is fucking paperwork. Profit margins, shell companies, shipping manifests disguised as something else entirely. The unglamorous reality behind the power.
Dawn breaks outside my window. I’ve barely had more than a few hours’ sleep. I’m still wrapping my head around having her here.
Five years of imagining what it would be like to touch her again, to have one more night with her, and now Hope is here, under my roof. As my wife. But everything about this situation is complicated as hell.
Yesterday, watching her face when she saw Kin’s room, there was a moment where her expression softened completely, genuine appreciation flickering in her eyes. Then I watched her walls slam back up, suspicion replacing wonder as she tried to figure out my angle. Can’t really blame her for that. Afterwhat Simon put her through, she’s learned not to take anyone’s kindness at face value. The fact that I’m still the enemy in her eyes doesn’t help my case.