“I’m fine,” he murmured, pressing her palm against his cheek before gently pulling it away.He kept her fingers in his grip, trying to offer reassurance.
At the skeptical look in her eyes, he continued, “If I’ve seemed tired, it’s because I’ve got a lot to do before Rome next week.”
She waved that off.“You don’t need to meet with the Italian Prime Minister.Let someone else handle it.”
He squeezed her hand.“It has to be me or Dad.And he’s tied up with Uncle Joran and the military reorganization.”
She went quiet for a moment, then leaned closer.“You don’t have to doeverything, dear.You’ve been pushing too hard lately.”
She gave his hand another squeeze.“You used to tell me when something was wrong.”
He chuckled and leaned over to kiss her cheek.“I used to tell you every time Angela kidnapped and held one of my stuffed animals for ransom when I was five.I’ve learned to handle my problems since then.”
She sighed, wrapping her arms around him.“I wish all your problems were still that easy to solve.”Then she pulled back, tilted her head, and added, “You’ll tell me when you’re ready.And when you are, I’ll be here.”
Zayn left her office and headed to his own.He’d just sat down in his desk chair when it hit him.
She’d completely flipped the conversation.
And he’dlether.
Chuckling at her brilliance, he pulled the first report toward him.
Chapter 13
“No!No more!”Azlyn groaned, grabbing her chiming cell phone.Squinting against the sudden glare of the screen, she checked the time.Just past midnight.
“What the hell?”she hissed, flopping the phone back onto the bedside table.She’d only fallen asleep thirty minutes ago—right after getting Griffin down in his crib.He’d been extra cranky all day.Probably teething.At least, that’s what the baby books said.
Of course, it could be anything.He didn’t have a fever, and he wasn’t arching his back, so that was something.And eventually, blessedly, he had settled.
Azlyn exhaled, comforted by the silence, and glanced over at the crib beside her bed.Griffin was still fast asleep.His sweet, peaceful features were illuminated by the soft glow of the nightlight.His tiny fists rested beside his head like he was frozen mid–touchdown celebration.
She smiled, her heart aching with love and exhaustion.The gentle rise and fall of his chest was hypnotic.
Thank goodness.
He was perfect.
She pressed her cheek to the pillow again.“Sleep,” she whispered to herself.“I just need more sleep.”
What if itwasteething?What if it was something worse?Her eyes popped open again.Every muscle in her body screamed in protest.
She hadn’t had more than three hours of sleep in a row inmonths.Life without REM sleep was like living in a fog made of raw nerves and coffee grounds.
“Sleep,” she repeated with greater urgency, as if saying it out loud could summon it.She burrowed deeper into the pillow, shoving intrusive thoughts away with sheer stubbornness.
She wasthis closeto drifting off again when the phone rang—again.
Azlyn lifted her head and glared at the device like it had personally betrayed her.“Not like I’m sleeping anyway,” she muttered.
She reached for the screen and squinted.The caller ID read: Chicago Police.
Weird.
Her sources in the department didn’t use the official phone lines—they always texted or called from their burner phones.
“Yeah?”she grouched, levering herself up on one elbow and swiping a tangled curl out of her eyes.
