“Comforting.”
“I’m not here to comfort you.” His hand finds my thigh, warm and grounding through the silk of my skirt. “I’m here to keep you alive. There’s a difference.”
“Is there?” I cover his hand with mine, threading our fingers together. “Because you’re doing a pretty good job of both.”
His jaw tightens, grey eyes flicking from the road to me and back. “Did she withdraw the motion?”
“She will. By end of day.” I lean my head back against the seat, watching Brooklyn slide past through the window. “I gave her no choice. Even Mother’s not stupid enough to choose pride over survival.”
“Good.” He squeezes my hand once before releasing it, needing both hands to navigate traffic. “Now we focus on the gala. Tomorrow. We need you trained, prepared, and ready to kill if Matthew forces your hand.”
“I’m ready.” And I am. The fear I used to feel about violence has been replaced by cold determination. Matthew tried to take everything from me—my father, my inheritance, my life. Now I’m taking it back.
With interest.
My phone buzzes. Diane.
Motion withdrawn. Catherine’s lawyers just filed paperwork, citing “undue stress and premature filing.” Hearing cancelled. You’re clear.
I show Sergei the text. He smiles.
“She folded fast.”
“Because she knows I’ll do it. Release everything. Burn her entire world down without hesitation.” I pocket the phone, pulling out Dad’s lighter instead. The gold catches afternoon light, still scorched, still perfect. “She underestimated what I’d become. What we’d become together.”
“A lot of people make that mistake. Thinking you’re just some rich girl playing at danger. They don’t see the Wolf underneath until it’s too late.”
“And you?”
“I saw it the moment you proposed marriage in my office. Knew you were trouble wrapped in Prada. “ His hand returns to my thigh, higher this time, fingers splaying possessive against silk. “Best decision I ever made, saying yes.”
Heat floods through me. I squeeze my thighs together, trapping his hand, and watch satisfaction flash across his face.
“We’re not having sex in the car.”
“Don’t worry, I can wait until we get home.” His thumb traces small circles that make my breath catch. “Contrary to the popular belief, I have some control over myself.” His smile is pure sin. “And a lot of ideas what to do once I let go.”
“Then you better take us home. I want to make sure we’re there to put Mila to bed on time.”
“Good idea.” He removes his hand from my thigh with visible reluctance. “She’s been asking when we’re getting her a little brother or sister.”
I choke on air. “What?”
“Relax. I told her that’s not happening anytime soon.” He’s grinning now, actually grinning. “But she’s persistent. Takes after me.”
“God help us both.”
His laugh rumbles through the car, warm and genuine, and I let myself imagine it. A future past tomorrow. Past Matthew and Mother and all the violence we’re about to wade through. A future where this fake marriage becomes the realest thing I’ve ever built.
Where The Wolf and his wife become a family, instead of a partnership.
Where I stop running from what I feel and admit that somewhere between bullets and blood, I fell for the dangerous man beside me.
But that’s future talk.
The lighter clicks closed as we pull into the garage. Inside, I can hear Mila laughing, probably at one of Andrei’s terrible jokes. Normal sounds. Safe sounds.
Worth fighting for.
