“I understand why you kept it from me, Drago. I’m not fucking happy, but I forgive you. Thank you for protecting my girl,” he says with sincerity. But there’s that undertone. One that tells me to stay away from her. That I’ve done my job, and that’s that.
Which ain’t fucking happening.
My chest tightens hard enough that it almost hurts. I nod once, unable to trust my voice, and busy myself with plumping the navy cushions on the couch like they need my attention more than I do.
Then the doorbell rings, and everything in me freezes.
I run a hand through my hair, exhale once, and stalk toward the front door. The second I open it, and her big blue eyes meet mine, the air leaves my lungs.
Her mouth falls open.
She’s so beautiful I can’t breathe.
I register the twins behind her, watching me carefully, but I can’t tear my gaze from her face. From the way shock flickers into something sharper. Something wounded.
Then she steps forward, her small frame stopping just in front of mine.
I tighten my fingers around the door handle, grounding myself.
“You,” she hisses, narrowing her eyes.
The twins slide past us, efficient and silent, dropping her bags in the hallway like this is any other day.
“Me?” I ask, not bothering to soften my Russian accent this time.
Her eyes rake down my body, as if she’s cataloging every inch of me like she’s filing evidence. She steps closer, and I breathe in her strawberry scent, clean and sweet and completely wrong for the storm sitting between us.
“Yes. You. What is it, part-time mafia, or part-time security camera guy?”
I bite the inside of my cheek as Rowan sniggers behind her. The mask I wore only covered my face from the nose down, and she studied every inch of me that was on show.
“I work in many trades, Lily,” I say. Over the years, I’ve been the lawyer, the hacker, the martial arts coach, the assassin, the teacher, the business mogul, and my favorite, her secret bodyguard.
I shut the door firmly as the twins retreat without a word.
“No. You’re just a fucking liar.”
I had imagined this moment a hundred different ways, and none of them looked like this.
I extend my hand toward her. She stares at it like it might bite. “I’m Drago. Nice to officially meet you.”
Her gaze flicks from my hand to my face, and she still doesn’t take it. I’m not sure I can handle her touch right now.
“Drago.” She repeats.
There’s the faintest Russian lilt to it when she says my name.
It goes straight through me and to my dick.
I stay silent, praying she isn’t lining up pieces I worked years to keep separate. I changed my cologne. Kept my distance. Stayed in the shadows.
Would ten-year-old Lily remember me? I wasn’t part of the family. I was kept away purposefully.
Her expression shifts, and recognition blooms. “The kid my dad looked after?”
Fuck it. “Yes.”
Did she really notice me? Even back then? She even remembers my name.
