A tear soaks into my index finger, one that must’ve rolled down her cheek. One that prickles my skin with a lethal wound.
I won’t survive if she chooses to leave me. It will be as if the entire world were crashing down on my back, burying me at last. She doesn’t see how her mere existence enables me to carry it. The load feels heavier than ever, but only because the fear of her absence haunts me like a lead galaxy on top of everything else. Only having her my arms strengthens me to keep going.
“I’m sorry,” she says, and my stomach wrenches.
“Sorry?” I parrot, bracing myself.
She shakes her head, more drops of her regret sprinkling my fingers. “I don’t know how to do this, how to do my job and be with you without—”
“Stop,” I demand. “What are you apologizing for?”
“For the … I’m sure you’ve put two and two together.”
My anxiety wanes as I realize what she’s referring to. I stand, reluctantly pulling out of her and tucking myself away. “You’re sorry for Lev Popov’s informant missing?”
“Yes,” she pants, still somewhat breathless.
After removing the plug from her ass, I lift her into my arms, resuming my seat and situating her on my lap. “I don’t fucking care about that.”
She hisses as I unclasp her nipple clamps and set them aside, but she has the most authentic veil of innocence blanketing her, naked flesh and naked of her refined mask. “You don’t?”
“I do, but not for the reasons you think.” I reach for my glass, pop a melted ice cube in my mouth, and soothe her nipples, which are undoubtedly stinging. My thoughts are composed when I straighten, stringing my fingers through her tussled hair, the drive to shield her from the whole goddamn world piercing my bones. “I don’t care what your job was or what you came for. I don’t care what you’ve done. I only care that you stay.”
“Stay?” She pauses there, peering out the wall of windows at the tangerine sky and maybe the freedom the city affords. “What happened to your mom, Axel? I grasped what you alluded to about your father, but why was she in that house fire?”
I knew she’d heard my conversation with Ryker last night, so I’m not surprised by the question. Not if she noted the parallel between my mother and her. I hope she understands that I’d never allow their fates to align, but even if she does, it spears me to admit how immensely I failed.
“She wasn’t supposed to be there. For a long time, I believed she’d snuck in after the fire began and killed herself. I had a few other theories, but that was the only one that made sense.” Bile singes my throat as I force out the truth. “A couple of years ago, I discovered that after she told the man she’d been having an affair with what I was planning to do to my father, he knocked her out and put her in the house. I hadn’t known she was there.”
Her lips curl into a frown as she presses her hand to her sternum, willing her heart to slow—something she seems to do when she’s overwhelmed. “Why would he do that?”
Skating my fingertips across her molten skin, I scratch her thighs. “She’d gone to him, urging him to leave his wife since she’d soon be free. He refused and got scared that she’d blab about the affair. He was part of a group that considered cheating treason because it put the entire organization at risk. And lucky for him, I’d already set the scene for an accidental fire at her residence.”
“KORT was the organization?” she guesses correctly.
“Perhaps.”
“Loyalty is important to them,” she muses, brushing past my noncommittal answer.
“Yes.”
“And you …” She glides her fingertips over my jaw, the bristle of my scruff calming me in anticipation of her inquiry. “Why were you willing to do that to your father? Not that what he’d done to you didn’t warrant it, but …”
She already knows me well enough to understand I wouldn’t have killed him for how he treated me.
“He threatened my mother and my siblings, and I knew his threats weren’t idle. I’d seen him follow through on them … most notably, with another woman.”
Her lower lip wobbles. “My mother?”
“Yes. He showed me. He had pictures.” I palm the back of her head and plant a chaste peck on her quivering mouth. “I’m so fucking sorry, Zar. If I could’ve—”
“I don’t blame you. I didn’t even when I first got here. You aren’t your father.” Unaware of how impactful that pronouncement is and unwilling to linger there, she waves her hand over the desk. “This was some sort of lesson, I assume?”
“It was my way of demonstrating that even if things are uncomfortable or threatened by outside interference,youare my priority.” I gather our toys, stuffing them in my pockets. “I will take care of you. All your needs. And keep you safe.”
“That’s why you had Stella come in?” There’s a hue of disbelief staining that.
“In part. But also because I got wind that there was speculation about us. I needed to subdue it, and she spreads rumors like wildfire.”
