With how late I was out last night, I would’ve appreciated having the chance to sleep in. Knowing Natalie and Maisie were in my home changed that preference. I got up early because I anticipated she might. As soon as she was up, she would be after me for answers and an explanation about how I got off demanding that she come home with me.
Telling her that I was a member of the Orlov Family would be the kind of news to reignite any fear in her eyes. We were powerful, wealthy, and ruthless, so much so that ordinary society knew better than to mess with us. Our very name suggested a penchant and possibility of violence, and she would react like any other common citizen might—with fear, confusion, and dread.
Before I could decide how much or little to explain to her, I had to decide what I wanted to do with her. My curiosity about her had yet to be sated. My protective instincts were only deepening, not lightening up. I wasn’t done with her, but I also felt like I hadn’t even really started anything with her. I hadn’t claimedher. She hadn’t asked me out. We were mutually distant and not in any rush to push the other into a relationship or obligation.
There was still time to back off, to let her go and not complicate her life by knowing me.
It was that decision that had me scowling over my coffee in the lounge, near the floor-to-ceiling windows that made up a whole wall of my residence high up above the rest of the city.
Do I let her go?
Try to keep her?
The burning desire that flared hotter after her kisses suggested I couldn’t walk away yet.
It was far too early to know what to do about her, but the way I’d stepped in to save her without hesitation last night was the triggering point that would force my hand now.
I had to decidesomething. I had to have a game plan for what I would explain to her when she woke up.
First, though, I could help myself to getting answers of my own. After I brought her up here and asked Claire to check both of them over, I asked George to do a quick search about Natalie, just to get a basic understanding of who she was. Letting a stranger into my life wasn’t a simple mistake to ever commit. Allowing a stranger into my building, one of five that made up the block the family owned, would be a reckless mistake I’d never forgive myself for. That was how careful we had to be about whom we gave permission to be close.
I grabbed my phone and opened the text thread that I had with George. He’d no doubt handled my request shortly after I made it. A simple reach out to the cyber specialists my uncle employedwas all it took. In my hands, as I sipped my coffee and willed my brain and body to wake up more, I had the report of a few searches done on Natalie.
Skimming the material efficiently, I let the important details sink in. The rest could wait. I wanted to know everything about her, but for now, I focused on the big things.
No family—her parents passed away years ago in a car accident. No siblings or other relatives—no one would come looking for her. She was originally from a small town outside the city, and she had held down a variety of dime-a-dozen, entry-level jobs, all of them part-time. Not much college education. Formerly married.
Furrowing my brow as I read how Natalie Green became Mrs. Hayes, I resisted the flicker of jealousy that rose up inside me, smoking with wicked embers of envy that didn’t make sense.
Of course, she’d had another man in her life. The father of her daughter. Maisie clearly hadn’t come to be through immaculate conception.
I had no right to be annoyed that Natalie had another man before, that she had a past and had been in love to marry someone else. I had a past too. I never settled with any woman. I sure as fuck wasn’t celibate, but I wasn’t as much of a player as my brother was. Roman slept around more than any of us ever had. He avoided actually giving a woman the title ofgirlfriend, and until Claire showed up and made an impact on Mikhail, I would’ve believed us four—my uncle, my brother, my cousin, and I—were destined to be bachelors forever.
Natalie’s husband had been killed a little over a year ago, though, so there was no question that she was available. She wasn’tcheating or having an affair. I doubted that she had the sort of personality to ever do that, anyway.
Is that why she seems so skittish? So nervous? Because she lost her husband and is raising her daughter on her own?
As I nursed my coffee and thought some more about it, I recalled how clueless Natalie had always seemed when men gave her attention at the Diamond Mirage. Like she lacked the experience of how to handle a guy talking to her at all.
Except me.
She was still nervous with me, especially at first, but she’d warmed up to rely on me to help her out as her fake boyfriend.
Frustrated with the questions swirling in my head, I set my coffee down and wondered if I had the patience to wait for her to get up and seek me out. I wouldn’t push. I couldn’t. Bringing her here was already such a change, and I would probably benefit from letting her think she had some space.
Not much longer, she came out of the guest room. The door opened and closed with a quiet click, likely from her effort to not wake Maisie. Which was smart. Talking to Natalie without Maisie’s innocent ears listening in would be better.
Her footsteps were light and quiet. But it didn’t take her long to find me in the semi-darkness of the lounge as the sun continued to rise up to kiss the horizon.
I met her gaze as she walked into the lounge, still wearing the same clothes she’d had on last night. Her bar “uniform” couldn’t be very clean or comfortable, and I hoped that after our discussion, she’d feel more at ease to change.
The wariness in her gaze was expected. Dark circles lining under her eyes hinted at the likelihood that she didn’t sleep soundly last night. She always looked stressed, and it saddened me that she would feel so trapped in her life that she had to exist in nothing but survivor mode.
“Did you sleep well?” As soon as the words left my lips, she smirked.
I shook my head.Stupid.Clearly, she didn’t. “Did you sleep at all?” I asked instead.
“Not really.”
