I look down at him, at his hands warm and careful over my belly. “I won’t raise a baby in the crossfire.”
He nods once. “What do you need?”
“No guns near Clara or me,” I start. “Full security on her floor, and I approve it. Transparency. No more secrets, no managed lies about my schedule. Medical stays private and protected. You don’t tell anyone about this until I say so. And if there’s another attack within arm’s reach of me, I walk. I won’t argue about it and you won’t punish me for leaving.”
I keep my shoulders square and my chin up.
“Okay.”
He doesn’t stop there. “Clara gets two guards you’ll meet by name. Your OB gets a security bubble and an alias on the officeschedule. Your routes go dark to everyone who isn’t mine.” A muscle in his jaw jumps. “Alex oversees. If he slips, I cut him loose.”
I test him. “You can’t control every risk.”
“I can control the ones with names,” he says. “And I can remove men who fail me.”
There’s the blade under the vow. At least he’s honest. Protection here isn’t gentle. It’s effective. I can live with effective.
He rises slowly but doesn’t crowd me. He shrugs out of his coat and settles it over my shoulders. His thumb catches a tear on my cheek I didn’t notice, wiping it away gently.
“I’ll stay.”
“Your way,” he says.
“I’m holding you to that.”
“Good.” He means it. At least today.
“What happens now?” I ask.
“Now,” he says, “we see your sister. Alex walks point. Ten minutes in the room. She’s still sleeping, so we won’t need more time than that. Then we go home on a clean route—one car swap, three sets of eyes on the rearview. You sleep at the villa or my apartment in town. Your choice.”
“The villa,” I say without thinking. “It’s safer.”
“Villa it is.”
We walk. Alex appears at the end of the hall. He clocks our faces and nods, slipping in line with our pace. Damien’s coat isheavy and warm. I slip a hand into my jeans pocket, the ribbon pressing into my palm, soft and stubborn. It feels less like a leash and more like a rule I chose. At least for now.
We stop outside Clara’s door. The blinds are half open. I can see the green heart line on her monitor tracing steadily across the screen. The sight loosens something painful inside my chest. Damien’s hand hovers near my elbow, not touching. He’s learning.
“Go to your sister,” he says. “I’ll be right outside.”
I know he’ll stand in the hall like a wall until I come back out. I know that the way I know my own name. I breathe once, deep and steady, closing my hand around the ribbon in my pocket.
CHAPTER 27
DAMIEN
Istand with my back to the wall across from Clara’s room, watching through the blinds. Alex waits down the hall where he can keep an eye on the elevator and the cross hallways. Orlov covers the far end. Two more of my men sit inconspicuously with paperbacks and roving eyes.
Security is in place. The floor is ours.
Clara looks small in the bed. She’s blonde and pale. Pretty in a pixie-like way. Where Cassandra is heat, curves, and fight, Clara is fine-boned, steely nerve.
Cassandra moves reverently, quietly. She smooths hair off her sister’s forehead, then leans down and whispers. A brief smile, then a deep shaky breath. She kisses Clara’s temple.
I watch long enough to know what I already knew—Clara is the center of her world. Not the house. Not the money. That’s a good thing. People with roots don’t blow away in a hard wind.
I back off. Privacy is part of the deal. It’s also part of the man I’m trying to be.
