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)
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Lara
I wake in my childhood bedroom with my head resting on Baron’s shoulder. We flew into Moscow last night–or maybe it was this morning. I have no idea how long I slept. I just know that everytime I woke with adrenaline running through my system, Baron’s arms tightened around me, and he murmured softly into my ear until I relaxed and fell back to sleep. He murmured that it was over. That I was safe. That he’d never let anything happen to me.
You’re mine, Lara Baranov, and I won’t let anyone touch you, was the last thing he murmured a few hours ago.
He’s still asleep, which is unusual for him. I guess we both needed the rest. I ease the blankets back to slip out of bed and gasp when I see the state of Baron’s body. He’s in his boxer shorts–we were way too wiped out when we arrived for any sexy times–and his ribs are covered in black, blue, and green bruises.
Gospodi, he probably has some cracked or broken ribs. And this was the state he was in when he came to rescue me! The word hero doesn’t fully express the magnitude of what Baron is. He’s a knight. No, a prince. My prince.
I shower and dress in clothes that were still in my drawers from the last time I visited. Then I head to the living room to find my mom. I saw her when we came in, but I was delirious then. I need another hug.
My father owns three different properties in Russia. Our home in Moscow is an enormous penthouse with gleaming hardwood floors covered in plush rugs. The ceilings are vaulted, and the penthouse is filled with large windows and skylights because my mother likes bright spaces.
I find her in her clay studio, but she’s not at the pottery wheel. She’s standing looking out the full length window holding a cup of tea between her two hands. It’s in a mug she made, and it smells like mint. My father stands behind her, his tattooed arms wrapped around her from behind. Her head rests back against his chest.
“Lara, lyubimaya.” My mom’s face lights up when she sees me, and she sets down her mug of tea and spreads her arms wide.
“Mama. Papa.” I choke up. Even though my kidnapping wasn’t long, it still feels like a miracle to be home back with the people I love.
My parents sandwich me in a tight hug, and I soak in their love. The reason I became a strong, independent woman going to school in another country was because I knew they always had my back.
“I’m mad at you,” I tell my dad, but my voice is teary.
“I have…regrets.” My dad’s voice is gruff, as always.
“You should have told me that Brash was the danger, not Baron. I never would’ve left with him.”
“Yes, he should’ve told you,” my mom says.
I draw a breath to continue to berate him, but my husband walks in, torso bare, hair tousled, wearing the same cargo pants he was in when we arrived. He stops in the doorway, looking uncertain.
That’s when I realize it doesn’t matter.
My dad did what he thought he had to do to keep me safe. I could argue up and down that he should have made other choices, but if he had…I wouldn’t have this gorgeous man in my life right now. If I’d thought he was just a nice guy doing me a favor, I might have insisted on separate bedrooms, knowing he’d honor that. I wouldn’t have fallen head over heels in love with the guy I thought was the enemy.
I wouldn’t be madly in love with my sexy prince.
So, I guess I have no regrets. And if I don’t have regrets, I can’t very well blame my dad.
“We’re getting married,” I announce.
My parents release me from the sandwich hug, and my mom claps her hands in delight. “You and Benjamin? Aren’t you already married? Oh, I’m so happy!” She throws her arms around me again. “I always wanted him for you, lyubimaya. You were the best of friends when you were toddlers.”
Huh. I imagine my mom planning our marriage from the sandbox. I can’t help but wonder if her wish for me as a toddler found its way into the ether, pulling on quantum entanglements to years later manifest this way—with my father ordering me to marry him to keep me safe, and Baron feeling the pull of destiny the moment he met me. Meanwhile I was oblivious to all the magic conspiring around me until it was nearly too late.
My mom turns and gathers Baron up in a hug, too.
“Be careful, I think his ribs are broken,” I warn.
“I see that,” my mom says. “We can get them Xrayed right away.”
“Not necessary,” Baron grunts.
My dad clasps Baron’s palm in a wordless, somber handshake. I take it he approves.