I reach for the bowl, and she leans back against the counter, palms pressed to the edge, eyes on me. Valentina doesn’t have to say a word. I already know what she wants.
“You’re really milking this, aren’t you?”
“Not at all,” she murmurs, a hint of challenge in her voice. “My wrist’s a little sore. You know, stampede and all that.”
I’ve never been drawn to dimples the way I am in this moment. My gaze drifts down, tracing the curve of her mouth as I lift the spoon toward her.
I’m a man. Of course my mind goes there when she parts her lips for me, watching me like she knows exactly what she’s doing.
I scoop another spoonful of cereal, but she takes it from my hand and offers me a bite instead.
“How generous of you. Not like it was mine to begin with. And what happened to your sore wrist?”
She laughs, and a drop of milk slips down her thigh. I quickly shove the soggy loops into my mouth and swipe the mess away with my thumb.
“That’s disgusting,” I mutter, forcing down the cereal before tossing the bowl into the sink.
“Hey, I wasn’t done.”
“You are now.”
Before she can argue, I lift her off the counter and carry her into the living room.
“A girl could get used to this.”
“What? Warm, soggy cereal?” I set her down beside me on the sofa and wait for her laughter to fade. “So, are you going to tell me now why you came here?”
I’m not sure what I expect her to say—or what I even want to hear—but I wait. She sighs, resting her head against the cushion.
“I was a little shaken tonight because of what happened. Not for me. But I didn’t know where Remi was for what felt like forever, even if it was just a couple of minutes.”
“She’s okay,” I tell her when her smile fades. I can almost see the moment replaying behind her eyes.
“I know. And now you’re probably wondering why I’m here instead of with her.”
I nod. She reaches for my hand, her thumb tracing the ink along my skin.
“Growing up in this family, I’ve always felt safe. Protected. I never really understood it as a child—obviously—but once my eyes were open, it all made sense.” She looks up at me from beneath her lashes. “Youmade sense.”
“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” I say, my voice rougher now.
“You were always special. In my eyes, you were my best friend. And you always made me feel like nothing could hurt me.”
“I’ve hurt a lot of people, Valentina,” I confess before I can stop myself, like I’m warning her, pushing her away. But it doesn’t matter. She’s already under my skin. Deeper with every word.
“Should I…be afraid of you, Maksim?”
My hand finds her throat before I even realize it. I expect her to flinch, but she doesn’t. She just smiles like she already knows exactly who I am beneath it all. And none of it matters.
“Never.”
“I know,” she whispers. “And that’s why I’m here. Because I needed to feel that again. Needed to feel safe.”
“You could have felt that with any one of them,” I say, pushing because I have to…because I need to hear her say it.
“But I don’t miss them the way I miss you.”
There it is. My fucking undoing.
