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“Why don’t I get you some dresses?” he says with a smirk. “If you don’t feel good, at least you’ll look good.”
“I don’t want to get dressed up,” I say, wishing I could fix my tone and anger. “I just want this to be over.”
“It will be soon, I promise.”
I’m about to snap something.You keep promising me,but how would that be helpful? I don’t want to be a whiny, nagging girlfriend, even if the word “girlfriend”doesn’t exactly fit us … yet.
Mikhail walks over to the bed, sits down, and wraps his arm around me. I cuddle closer to him and close my eyes, leaning against his chest. I don’t realize how tired I am until sleepstarts tugging on me. Mikhail leans down, kisses my head, then whispers, “It’s okay. Rest. I’m here.”
I move closer to him, trying to ensure there’s no space between us. I want to melt into him and forget about all the pain, forget about everything that could go wrong.
“Will you stay here until I fall asleep?” I ask.
He shifts down the bed, lying down, pulling me tighter to him. “Stay here? Hell, you’re givingmean excuse to get some sleep. Dimitri’s in the city, sorting the venue, and I’m here, protecting my girl, letting her rest. That doesn’t sound as bad assleeping on the job, does it, my algorithmic amour?”
“I love how you can make me smile no matter what,” I murmur, sinking deeper and deeper, tiredness clinging to me, dragging me down.
“That’s what I live for,” he replies, his voice husky and sleepy. “To make you laugh, to make you smile, to make you happy … and to destroy any bastard who’d try to ruin it.”
“This will be over soon, right?” I murmur. “I won’t have to marry Dimitri. Drake will be safe.”
I hate the desperation in my voice, but I can’t pretend I feel any other way.
“I’ll tear the Bratva apart to keep you and your brother safe,” Mikhail says fiercely. “Tell me about him.”
“Drake?” My smile widens. “He’s a happy kid despite everything. No matter what happens or what Dad does, he can always make it seem better. I remember this one time …”
“You can tell me.”
“I’m scared,” I admit.
“Your dad can’t hurt you now.”
“No … of your reaction.”
His body stiffens for a moment, his grip becoming more possessive of me, and then he says, “I don’t want you to be afraid to share things with me, Mila.”
When I try to speak, my voice catches, but then I push past it. I refuse to live the rest of my life in fear. “About two years ago, Dad got really drunk, and he hit me.” I swallow, waiting for Mikhail to go nuts. I can feel his anxiousness trying to erupt, but he somehow contains it. “After, he started saying some messed-up stuff. He was making threats to do things he’d never done before—truly depraved stuff. Mikhail, think of the sickest, most twisted things a man could say to his own child.”
Mikhail grips me even tighter, then kisses the top of my head again. I can feel the possession in the kiss: his hungry need to claim me, keep me close, and stop anything like that from happening again. I’m almost crying as I sense his mood.
“He’s going to pay,” Mikhail tells me coldly. “What about Drake? How does he fit into this?”
“I ran to my room, crying, always crying. I wish I were more like Lia, honestly.”
“What do you mean?”
“She hasn’t had it easy either, but at least she can face it.”
“Everybody’s different,” Mikhail tells me. “You’ve lived in a cage your whole life.”
“Yeah, it’s made me soft.”
“No,” he growls. “Theytriedto make you soft, but you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.”
I sigh, then tell him, “Even then, Drake could make me laugh, walking around my bedroom doing his funny voices, looking almost desperate for me to be happy. I swear, that kid’s the most empathetic person I’ve ever known.”
“I can’t wait to meet him.”
