“I was relaxed.And then my wife woke up and reacted poorly to my having moved her.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”She glared.“You werenotrelaxed then, so stop with the bullshit.I bet you’re plotting in your dreams when you sleep, aren’t you?Carrying me to bed wasn’t enough to put you off something you do as second nature.”
“If you already think you know the answer to the question, why ask it?”
Which wasn’t an agreement… but it wasn’t a disagreement, either.
She lifted the washcloth and winced.“This will bruise.”
“It’s an impressive right hook.”
Now was the time to press him about Krav Maga, or to ask one of the half a million questions she had brimming inside her.But Keira found herself hesitant to break the moment.She pressed the cloth back to his face.
“Why did you stop painting?”
The question set her back on her heels.“That’s none of your damn business.”She wasnotgoing to think about painting or the whys or what she’d lost.
His big hand covered hers where she held the washcloth.“It’s just a question, Keira.”
“It’s not just a question.You’re probing for information.It doesn’t matter whether it’s part of some intricate plan or to satisfy your curiosity—I am not going to trot out my pain for your amusement.”
His grip tightened slightly.“You don’t have to keep running.”
The audacity of him almost left her speechless.“Why?”
He frowned.“Why?”
“Yes, Dmitri,why?Why don’t I have to keep running?Is it because I’m safe here?”She motioned with her free hand.“We both know that’s a fucking lie.I’m no safer herethan I was in Boston—less so, because anyone targeting you will target your wife as well.Am I safe becauseyou’rehere?Please.You’re the most dangerous to me of all.You were honest when you said that you couldn’t offer me what I needed—don’t try to change your tone now.”
His frown deepened and then cleared.“Love.You’re talking about love.”
Five little words to cut right to the heart of her.She let go of the washcloth and stepped back, all too aware that he allowed her to do it.“I know better now.”
“Keira—”
“Can we just be done for tonight?It’s been a long day, and I’m tired.”Her exhaustion surged again, threatening to buckle her knees.As much as she didn’t want to share a bed with him, the thought of walking down the stairs to hers was too much.She pulled her sweater off and slid out of her jeans.When she turned around, he was staring.“What now?”
Dmitri gave a sharp shake of his head and stood.“You are safe tonight.”
The implication being that she wasn’t safe other nights.It would be worrying, but it was a truth she’d known since she was a child.The type of danger might change in any given situation, but it never went away completely.
She waited for him to walk into the bathroom before she climbed into the massive bed.It really was like wrapping up in a cloud.By all rights, she should have passed out the second her head hit the pillow, but her mind unfurled like some dark-winged thing chased it.
Going home had been a mistake.She knew it was necessary, but the world seemed so far away when she was closed up in the Romanov residence.Being back in Boston,even for a limited time, had memories banging against the walls of her mind that she had no interest in dealing with.
It had been far too many years since her siblings were happy.Since they were close.Not since Aiden left for college, though things had started fracturing before then, but she’d just been too young to realize it.Too selfish.What did she care if her oldest brother was straining under the pressure their father put on him as heir?Shewas living as close to the dream as she was allowed.While her siblings slowly drifted away, one after the other, she’d lost herself in her art and her goals.She’d once had Devlin, after all, andthatrelationship was just as close as it’d ever been.
Until it wasn’t.
Until he died and she realized how alone she really was.
Until the illusion fell from the bars of her cage, revealing just how trapped she’d been from the very beginning.
The world was an ugly place, and the art she was so goddamn proud of didn’t do a damn thing to change that.All it did was remind her of the silly girl she’d been—so willfully stubborn, doing anything she had to in order to ignore the truth of her situation.
Trapped.Helpless.A pawn in a game she never wanted to play to begin with.
Nothing had changed, even if the city she lived in had.She was still a character in someone else’s play, required to dance to the tune not of her making.
