“For our assassination, you mean,” she muttered as he nudged her toward the front door.
It had been her suggestion to make a statement. But clearly she was having her doubts. And if he knew one thing about his princess, it was that she did not deal well with doubts.
Pausing just in front of the door, he looked down at her, weighing his options. He could continue to be logical, to attempt to soothe with facts and reassurances of her safety.
Or he could give her what every instinct in his body was screaming at him that she needed.
“Eyes on me, princess.”
Her head snapped up at the sharp command, fury and need twin flames in her stunning eyes. “What?”
Capturing her chin between his fingers, he forced her head to tilt back, and was rewarded with her sharp intake of breath as her eyes darkened even further. “Nothing is going to happen to you out there. I won’t allow it. And do you know why that is?”
“Why?” The word was barely a whisper, her voice breathless.
“Because you are mine. And nobody, not the DeLucas, not the Russians, not Richard Fucking Williams puts a goddamn finger on what’s mine. Do you understand me?”
“Yeah.”
He tightened his grip on her chin. “How do you respond to me, princess?”
Eternity stretched between them in the silence that followed. He wouldn't force her to say the words the way he had the other night. This was different. This wasn’t just about her agreeing to certain stipulations while she lived under his roof. This, right now, was about her accepting her role as his woman, his babygirl.
His everything.
If she wasn’t ready to accept that, then he couldn’t force her. But if she was…
God, he hoped she was.
Time itself seemed to slow to a stop around them as she stared up at him with those fathomless eyes. And then, at last.
“Yes, Daddy.”
Relief and joy swept through him, both so strong they threatened to send him to his knees. But somehow he managed to stay upright and reward her with a smile and the brush of his lips over hers. “Good girl. Now, let’s go to dinner.”
Aria
* * *
Standing out in the open two days after having been shot at didn’t sit well with her. But having Killian by her side, the comforting weight of his hand at the small of her back did help, at least a little bit.
Still, it was a relief to step inside the cozy restaurant he’d chosen for their date. The lighting in the old-fashioned pub was dim but not dark, enough to give the illusion of being alone as you tucked yourself away in a booth despite the fact the place was brimming with people.
They were greeted at the front door by an older man with a grin that shone so brightly it nearly ruined the intimate atmosphere he’d clearly worked so hard to create. He pumped Killian’s hand in greeting before shifting his attention to Aria.
“And who is your lovely companion?” the man asked, taking Aria’s hand and lifting her knuckles to his lips in a move that should have been gross but somehow managed to come off as sweet and charming instead.
Maybe a little too charming, judging by the way Killian moved even closer to her, the hand on her back sliding around to settle on her hip. Subtle, but possessive all the same. “This is Aria. My…” Killian hesitated, clearly weighing his words. “She’s mine.”
Mine. It wasn’t the first time he’d called her that, and every time was an unexpected thrill. Not simply the word itself, but the way he said it, as if it were both a claiming and a warning at the same time.
And perhaps it was.
Approval lit the older man’s eyes. “Welcome to our restaurant, Ms. Aria. We’ve reserved Mr. O’Rourke’s usual table for you.”
“Your usual table, huh?” she murmured as they followed the man deeper into the restaurant.
“Yes. I have a particular affinity for their bread pudding, so I come here often.”
