Last night, she fell asleep on my chest while we watched that movie. This morning at breakfast, she smiled at something Emmanuel signed, and the sight of it made my chest feel too tight. She’s kind, soft, and gentle.
And me, well —
I was just beating a man bloody for information while she was somewhere in my house. Safe. Protected. Completely unaware of the monster unleashed outside.
What would she think if she saw me right now? If she’d seen that? If she’d watched me break Dimitri’s nose, dislocate his shoulder, kick him while he was down?
Would she look at me with that same soft expression? Would she let me hold her hand under a blanket? Let me wipe the hair from her face with my bloody hands? Would she fall asleep against me, trusting me to keep her safe?
Or would she see the monster I really am?
A Don who will do whatever it takes to protect what’s his, consequences be damned.
Reaching my room, I lock the door behind me, retreating into the adjoining bathroom. I look down at my hands as I wash them in the sink— bloodied, bruised, still shaking slightly from adrenaline comedown. These are the hands that held Emmanuel last night. The hands that touched Chloe’s face, that held hers under a blanket.
These are also the hands that nearly killed Dimitri.
Both are true. Both are me.
And I don’t know which version Chloe will choose to see when she inevitably learns the truth. I just know that when she does, everything will change.
And I’m not ready for that. Not yet.
Not when I’m just starting to understand how much I need her to keep looking at me the way she did last night— like I’m someone worth trusting instead of someone to fear.
But the Russians have eyes on her now.
Dimitri’s words echo in my mind, the ones he spat at me before I lost control. “You can’t protect anyone.”
He knew about Chloe. Which means they’re watching my house. Watching my family. Planning their next move. I need to find out why. Need to understand what they want before they strike again.
Because next time, I might not get Emmanuel back. Next time, they might take Chloe instead.
And that thought— the image of her frightened, hurt —makes my blood run cold in a way that even Emmanuel’s kidnapping didn’t.
When did she become someone I didn’t want to lose? When did she become mine to protect?
Again, I don’t have answers. Not even for myself. I just know that I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe. Even if it means she eventually sees the monster and runs.
Even if it means losing her in the end. Better she hates me than ends up dead because I wasn’t ruthless enough. Better she’s safe than in my arms.
I repeat it like a mantra as I head inside to wash the blood from my hands and pretend, for a few more hours, that I’m just a father who builds forts instead of the monster who haunts the shed at the edge of the property.
Chapter Ten
Basili
I’m chopping garlic when I hear soft footsteps coming from the hallway. Chloe appears in the doorway a moment later, barefoot and wide-eyed, as she comes to an abrupt stop when she sees me.
“Are you just going to stand there gawking, or are you going to come in?” I ask without turning around.
She is startled. “I… Sorry, I was just expecting Maria.”
“Maria has the night off.” I glance over my shoulder, unable to express a small smile at her bewildered expression. “Come in. I won’t bite.”
Then my thoughts wander, and my grin turns flirtatious. “Hard.”
I see the blush that graces her cheeks as she moves into the kitchen slowly, hesitantly, like she’s approaching a wild animal. She’s wearing leggings and an oversized sweater that slips offone shoulder, her hair piled on the top of her head in a messy knot that makes her look even younger.
