Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“Yeah. Are you?”
For once, he doesn’t give me his slick, in-control, closed-off act. He draws a long breath and sighs it out. Then he nods. “I’m okay.” His words sound heavy, though.
“What are you doing out here?” I instantly regret the dumb question. He obviously wanted to be alone, and I’m interrupting.
He gives me a faint smile. “Working on my tan.”
“Your shirt’s on,” I point out.
“I can remedy that.” He reaches between his shoulder blades and smoothly pulls his shirt off over his head in a move so sexy I swear my ovaries drop three eggs.
“Are you worried?”
The strong leader returns, and I kick myself for asking the wrong question. I want him to open up and be vulnerable, not reassure me.
He shakes his head. “No. I’m going to find the fuckers who did this and fix it.” He speaks with total confidence, and I have zero doubt he will do it.
I look out at the view. I can see why Baron likes to come out here. We’re on the third floor–the height of treetops. Our window faces away from campus toward the neighborhood houses.
“Is this where you come to think?” I try again.
He interlaces his fingers with mine and brings my knuckles to his lips. “Yeah.”
“Am I interrupting?” I try to tell myself not to be hurt if he says yes, but my heart feels ripe and vulnerable. Like it would pop with a single pin-prick.
“Fuck, no.” He looks over at me. “You’re the best thing that’s happened to me.”
My chest squeezes like he just tied a tight ribbon around the center. I want to believe him. It freaks me out how much I care. I find it hard to breathe.
“When they let me out of jail this morning and told me my wife was waiting for me, I–” Baron breaks off, his gaze roving over my face. “I can’t tell you what it meant to me. I couldn’t believe you came for me.”
“Of course, I came for you.” I don’t know why my eyes are getting hot. My throat feels clogged. “You’re my husband.”
Baron drops his head between his knees for a moment then leans his shoulder against mine. “I’m humbled,” he mumbles. “I want–” He breaks off again.
He’s usually so slick and confident. As pakhan of his bratva cell, he’s strong, dominant, the leader, but right now, he’s all mine.
I didn’t realize how much I needed this. Not that I wanted him humbled–well, maybe I did–but that I craved prying him open like an oyster. Seeing the softer parts under the hard shell. I wanted to find out what makes him tick. What makes him sacrifice his own happiness for the sake of everyone around him? What makes him so fierce a protector?
I touch his face. “What do you want?” I murmur.
He lets out a humorless chuff of laughter. “I want you to care.” His voice breaks.
My heart follows suit.
I throw my leg over his waist to straddle his lap. “I care, Baron,” I whisper.
He holds my waist and leans his forehead against mine. “I’m crazy about you, Lara. I agreed to marry you out of duty, but the moment I met you, that changed. You felt like…someone I’d been waiting for my entire life.”
Tears prick my eyes.
“I didn’t want this. I still don’t. But…you got past my defenses. I want to know you, Baron. The real you.”
He stares back at me, his brown eyes dark. I see a faint alarm in them. Like he knows I’m storming the castle, coming for his deepest, darkest secret.
“Tell me,” I murmur.
Genuine alarm flares, but he covers it. “Tell you what?”
“What happened that made you this way. Who did you lose?”
He sucks in a startled breath and holds it.
I cradle his stubbled jaw in my hands and stroke my thumbs back toward his ears, tracing the soft hairs that make up his sideburns.
“Our housekeeper. Valentina. And…Lili could have died.”
I stay very still, hardly breathing. Waiting for him to go on.
“It was my fault. We never left our building without protection. My dad drove us to school in an armored car. Our building was a fortress–no one could breach it.” Baron’s breath comes in short, shallow pants.
The trauma of whatever he’s about to tell me still rules his nervous system. He still relives it like it’s happening in the present.
“I wanted ice cream.” His voice is rusty. “There was this ice cream cart out on the beach–I could see it from our living room window. I was ten–old enough to go buy it myself, but we weren’t allowed out alone, which I hated. I hassled Valentina to let me go, and when she wouldn’t, I asked her to take us down there. I got Lili in on it, and she begged and pleaded and whined until Valentina agreed to take us.
I keep my mouth shut and continue to brush my thumbs over his temples, around his ears, trying to soothe the agitated state from his body while he tells the story.