Page 187 of Dark King Daddy

I couldn’t look at him.

Daniil was giving them everything. The men who depended on him. His brothers’ inheritance. The alliance he and Anton had fought to keep together. All the things we had talked about in bed as though we would have years to work them out.

I had told him I loved him on the phone. I should have told him not to do this. I should have made him promise.

But I had wanted him to come.

God help me, I still did.

Oleg laughed at something on the screen. His split lip pulled open, and he touched it with his thumb.

I wanted to hit him again. I wanted him to hurt so badly he couldn’t stand there enjoying my husband’s voice.

An engine sounded outside. Oleg lifted his head.

A dark car passed the open doorway and stopped in the yard. I leaned sideways, trying to see. Oleg went out to meet it, leaving the doorway clear.

Nikita was behind the wheel.

Then the passenger door opened, and Daniil got out.

My breath came out in a sound I couldn’t stop.

He was here. He was really here.

His shirt was creased, his jacket open. No coat. He showed Oleg his empty hands, turned enough to let him see beneath the jacket, then faced the garage again.

He was looking for me.

I moved along the window until I stood directly opposite the open door. His eyes found mine through the bay.

For a moment I forgot Kostya. I forgot the blood and the men and the fact that Daniil had just given our enemies everything they wanted. I could see him. His mouth moved around my name, too far away for me to hear.

I put my hand against the glass.

Please, I thought. Please get me out of here.

Kostya took my arm.

“Come.”

I wanted to pull away. Instead I let him lead me out of the office, because he was taking me towards Daniil.

My knees hurt with every step. I tried not to limp. I didn’t want Oleg to think I couldn’t make it to the car.

Daniil waited outside the steel door. I could see the shadows under his eyes now, the stubble along his jaw. He looked at the towel around my hand, and his expression changed so abruptly that I pressed it against my stomach.

I didn’t want him looking at the blood. I wanted him looking at me.

“I’m all right,” I said.

His eyes came back to mine.

“I know, baby.”

It was such an obvious lie. We both knew I wasn’t all right. But his voice was the one I knew from home, from our kitchen and our bed, and hearing it here nearly undid me.

I took a breath. Then another. He watched me do it.