Page 81 of Royal Bargain
“Liam,” he says smoothly, gesturing to the chair across from him. “Please.”
I shut the door behind me, but I don’t sit.
“I’m only going to say this once,” I start, voice low, steady. “Stay the hell away from Annika.”
A faint flicker of amusement touches his lips, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“She ran to you,” he says. “It was inevitable.”
“She ran from the people who were trying to use her as a pawn,” I snap. “You think she betrayed you? She didn’t. She was set up. She didn’t give your location to anyone—someone else did, and you were too blinded by your pride to see it.”
Something shifts behind his eyes. Not surprise. Not denial. Just something like consideration.
“I’m aware of that possibility,” he says finally, calmly. “There are inconsistencies. Loose ends.”
“Then why is there a target on her back?” I demand. “Why the hell is your bratva still hunting her like she’s some kind of traitor?”
He exhales slowly, like a man trying to explain something to someone who won’t understand.
“Because not everyone around me shares my doubts,” he says. “There are men who want her to be guilty. Men who benefit from it.” The way he says it—calm, almost bored—makes my skin crawl.
I stand up, done with this conversation. I said what I needed to say.
As I’m leaving though, my hand on the knob of the door, Anatoly calls my name and I turn my head, wondering what he wants.
“Be careful who you trust, Brannagan.”
I ignore him and head for the lobby, having done what I needed to do and seeing no point in staying.
But by the time I get back home, I’m still replaying the conversation in my head. I didn’t get answers—just more questions. And the worst part is, I think that was the point.
The apartment is warm, cozy. The baby monitor hums low in the kitchen. It smells like coffee and whatever Kate cooked for breakfast.
Annika’s in the living room, bouncing Lily gently in her arms, humming something soft under her breath. She looks up as I walk in, eyes lighting up—then narrowing.
“Where were you?” she asks, trying to keep her voice casual. “You were gone when I woke up.”
I force a smile and lean down to kiss the top of Lily’s head before brushing a hand over Annika’s shoulder.
“Just had a few last-minute campaign stops,” I say lightly. “Canvassing for Burns before tomorrow.”
She watches me for a second too long, her gaze probing. Like she’s trying to read the truth under my skin.
But then she nods, just barely.
“Oh,” she says. “Okay.”
I give her another smile, but it feels wrong on my face. She turns back to Lily, cooing softly.
And I stand there for a second, still hearing Anatoly’s voice echoing in my head.
Be careful who you trust.
Later that night, after dinner and bath time and a chorus of Lily’s bedtime fussing, the apartment finally settles into quiet.
Annika curls up next to me on the couch, her legs tucked under her, a throw blanket draped over her lap. The TV plays some old sitcom neither of us are really watching. Her head leans against my shoulder, warm and familiar—but I can feel the weight of something unspoken hanging between us.
It’s her who finally breaks the silence.
