Page 65 of Betrayal and Vows

It’s relief.

Joy.

And maybe even dread.

I get it. I feel the same way. I need to be near her, and I dread the moment I can’t be.

I move toward her slowly, aware of every camera, every shadow where someone might be lurking. The taste of blood lingers on my tongue—Mikhail's parting gift still seeping from my split lip.

Her eyes widen when she sees me, taking in the damage. Without thinking, she lifts her hand toward my face, those delicate fingers reaching to touch the wound.

I catch her wrist before she can make contact.

"Don't," I whisper. "Someone's always watching."

But I don't let go. I can't. My thumb finds her pulse point, feeling the rapid flutter of her heartbeat beneath my fingertip. I trace small circles there, counting each beat, memorizing the rhythm of her life. This tangible proof that she's real, that she's here, that she's mine even if the world says otherwise.

Her pulse quickens under my touch.

I drop her hand and take a step back.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine. You need to go back inside. It’s not safe out here.” My tone is cold. All professional.

Hurt flashes through her eyes.

“I needed fresh air.”

“You got it. Go inside.”

She frowns and then flips her hair over her shoulder in a dismissive action.

“You’re my bodyguard, not my owner.”

“The fuck I’m not.”

Her eyes widen briefly.

Her lips form a soft O, and I know exactly what she’s thinking.

I am too.

But she’s smart enough to walk away.

Thank God because I’m ready to grab her and throw her on the grass between the prized roses and fuck her until neither of us can breathe.

Chapter 12

Lena

Mother knocks only once before entering, not waiting for permission because she never has.

She carries something over her arm, draped like a dead animal, but with more sequins.

I curl my lips at the sight of the garment she’s carrying.

If she plans on wearing that for tonight’s dinner, I have to tell her not to.