"And Cristian? Good job keeping her alive. Not many would have managed it against Maksim's men."
“Just doing my job.” Except she’s not just my job. Not anymore.
Valentina steps out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. The energy around her says Mafia princess. Just like that, she's transformed back into the cool, indifferent woman I’m charged with protecting.
"I'll be ready in five minutes," she says, voice cool as she gathers her clothes and returns to the bathroom.
It’s stupid to feel hurt by her change in demeanor.
What else could I expect?
Declarations of love?
Her begging me to take her away?
She's doing exactly what needs to be done, moving forward.
I have no right to feel wounded when I'm the one who reminded her that we need to return to reality.
I check my weapon and peer through the curtains again, scanning the parking lot for unfamiliar vehicles or faces.
Nothing seems out of place, but that means nothing in our world.
Danger is always present, whether visible or not.
When she emerges, fully dressed with her hair pulled back, she looks every inch the untouchable Dante daughter.
If not for the fading mark on her neck, I might believe last night never happened.
“I need to go check around.” It’s not completely a lie. I should see if the stolen car has been made or if anyone is lurking around who shouldn’t be.
But the truth is, I need a moment away from her or I might succumb to the overwhelming need to ask her to risk her life, her family’s lives, to run away.
“Sure,” she says, pulling up the sheets of the bed and tucking them under the pillows.
“Don't move until I get back," I instruct.
Something flickers in her gray eyes.
I can’t be sure if it’s hurt or maybe resignation. "I know how to follow orders, Cristian."
I nod and hurry out the door.
The car is where I left it behind the hotel.
I hotwire it and drive it two blocks up and one block down, getting it away from us in case anyone comes snooping.
I walk back to the hotel, hoping Valentina is worried about how long I’ve been gone.
Disturbing thoughts sneak into my mind. What if Maksim's men are waiting?
What if Maksim already knows about us?
I've never been a man who struggles with nerves, but this isn't about me anymore.
It's about her.
About what I've done to her.
