Page 29 of Cinderella and the Daddy
But then I remember Anna's smug smile tonight. Charles's panicked voice on that phone call. The Kozlovs are circling like sharks who have caught the scent of blood in the water.
I've made too many enemies to survive by being naive. And flaunting Cindy tonight, showing her off like a prize I claimed, might have been the biggest mistake of my life. Every man in that room saw her. Wanted her.
And now they know exactly how to get to me.
The smart thing would be to end this now. Send her back to her family, and wash my hands of the whole situation. Let the Tremaines deal with their own debts and their own consequences.
But the thought of letting her go didn’t sit well with me. Losing her makes something dark and possessive uncurl in my chest.
She's mine now.
The first woman to make me feel anything other than cold calculation in years. The first person besides Leo who makes me want to be something other than a monster.
I'm not giving her up. Not to the Kozlovs, not to anyone.
Tomorrow I'll get answers from the Tremaines. I'll find out exactly what game they're playing and how deep Cindy is involved. And then I'll decide what to do with the woman who's either the best thing that's ever happened to me or the one who's going to destroy everything I've built.
But tonight, she's still mine.
The small gold necklace at her throat catches the light—a simple chain with a locket that she never removes. She mentioned once that it belonged to her mother. The only thing she has left of the woman who died when Cindy was a child.
I stand frozen, watching her breathe. The Tremaines' sudden contact with the Kozlovs. Her phone call yesterday—too perfectly timed. Either she's the most talented actress I've ever encountered, or she's exactly what she appears to be: a woman caught in circumstances beyond her control.
I can't afford to be wrong. Not with Leo in the house. Not with the Kozlovs circling like sharks.
The tracker is in my hand before I fully decide. Smaller than a pill, it will tell me the truth her words cannot. If she runs to them, I'll know. If she stays, if she proves herself... then maybe this thing burning in my chest isn't the weakness that will destroy us all.
Forgive me, I think, though I'm not sure if I'm asking her or myself.
It's smaller than a pill, undetectable unless you know what you're looking for. I've used dozens of them over the years to keep tabs on assets, enemies, and the occasional lover who couldn't be trusted.
I approach the bed carefully. Even in sleep, Cindy has good instincts. I've seen her wake at the slightest sound, instantly alert like someone who learned early that safety was never guaranteed.
My fingers work the tiny clasp of her necklace. She shifts slightly, murmuring something I can't make out, but doesn't wake. I slip the tracker inside the locket's hollow backing. It’s so small she'll never notice the added weight.
The clasp closes with the faintest click.
If she's lying, she'll disappear. If not, she stays in my bed.
Simple as that.
She stirs as I settle the necklace back against her throat, her eyelashes fluttering open.
"What happened?" she whispers, her voice husky.
I lean down and press a kiss to her forehead, tasting the salt of her skin. "Nichego, malen'kaya lgunia," I murmur against her temple.Sweet dreams, little liar.
She frowns slightly at the Russian words but doesn't ask for a translation. I strip off my clothes and slide into bed beside her, pulling her warm body against my chest. She fits perfectly in the curve of my arm, her head finding that hollow between my shoulder and collarbone like she belongs there.
"Sleep," I tell her, my fingers threading through her dark hair.
She's already drifting off again, trusting enough to let me hold her even after everything that's happened between us. The irony isn't lost on me. She sleeps peacefully in the arms of a man who just violated that trust in the smallest, most necessary way.
My chest tightens as she burrows closer, seeking warmth. If she's the leak, if she's feeding information to my enemies... The thought trails off because I can't complete it. Not while she's soft and trusting in my arms. Not while Leo calls her 'Mommy' in his sleep.
If she betrays us, I'll do what needs to be done. But tonight, God help me, I'm praying the tracker proves what my gut already knows—that she's ours to keep.
The thought should disturb me more than it does. Instead, it terrifies me how much I want it to be true.
