Maybe I wouldn't give the French such a hard time in my head anymore.
Then I remembered Mila.
My gut clenched.
I turned, expecting to see fear. Shock. Maybe tears.
Instead, I saw curiosity.
Her eyes were wide, but not with terror. With something else. Something I couldn't quite name.
"Your arm," she said, pointing.
I glanced down. Blood seeped through the sleeve of my coat where the knife had caught me.
"I'm fine," I said. "But we should probably get out of here."
She nodded.
We both took one more look at the attackers, who were starting to stir, groaning and cradling injuries.
Then Mila said something that shocked me.
"Is this how you wine and dine all the girls?"
I stared at her, mouth open, completely blindsided.
Who was this woman who could watch violence unfold and crack a joke?
She squeezed my hand. "Come on. Let's go back to my place and get you cleaned up. My treat."
I didn't argue.
We walked away from the scene, her hand in mine, the city closing around us like it always did.
And for the first time in a long time, I felt something I hadn't let myself feel in years.
Hope.
12
MILA
The stairwell felt narrower than it ever had.
Connor followed me up, his presence filling the space behind me like heat. Not crowding. Not rushing. Just there—steady footsteps, controlled breathing, the faint sound of his coat shifting when he moved his arm.
My heart hadn’t stopped racing since the street. Since the violence. Since the way he’d stepped in front of me without asking, like it wasn’t a choice but a fact.
Protection as instinct.
I unlocked my door with hands that still shook, my fingers fumbling like they didn’t quite belong to me anymore. I could feel him watching—not my body, not yet, but the moment. Reading me. Tracking whether I was okay in the way men like him probably always did.
Inside, the apartment felt too quiet.
The door closed behind us with a soft click that sounded final in a way that made my stomach drop. Not dangerous-final. Charged-final. Like a line had been crossed and neither of us was pretending otherwise.
I turned the lock. Then, without thinking, the chain.
