Page 113 of Forbidden Forget-Me-Not

Being inside Dimitri’s house had been bad enough. But this felt worse, like we were dancing through a field of landmines in the dark.

One thing was certain. I wasn’t leaving her alone in this place.

As the night wore on, my soul ached in a way I couldn’t ever fully explain.

I wasn’t afraid of war. I wasn’t afraid of blood or even dying. Never had been.

What terrified me was how easily I had started imagining a life with Kaylani, as if the world would ever allow it.

It was as though I had been standing in the corner all along, pretending I belonged at the table.

Chapter

Thirty-One

KAYLANI

The guest suite was beautiful, curated with a deliberate emphasis on comfort. Every detail seemed designed to make you relax, and to strip away any lingering unease.

The walls were cream, lit by crystal lamps, and fresh flowers sat on the dresser, as if someone had been expecting this moment. The large four-poster bed, complete with sheer curtains, looked untouched. It resembled a glamorous magazine spread, but I still felt like I was being watched.

Goran closed the door behind us and immediately began checking for cameras, listening devices, and hidden access points. He examined the windows, walls for seams, and behind the framed portraits. He inspected the closet and underneath the bed. Then he moved the furniture before whipping out his phone and running an app to check whether the room had been bugged

My curiosity was on overdrive.

How did someone train to become this thorough? It was on the verge of paranoid. I would never have thought to do half of what he did on pure muscle memory.

When he finally confirmed the room was safe, he turned to speak.

I folded my arms, already knowing what he was going to say.

“You’re not standing outside in the hallway all night.”

He moved to the balcony doors, testing the lock a second time before pulling the drapes closed.

“Yes, I am.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Yes. I do.”

I stepped closer. “This isn’t my father’s house.”

He lifted a single brow. The look made me feel smaller than if he had called me a fool outright.

“No. It isn’t.” His voice was even, but it still felt like a reprimand. The weight in the statement made my stomach tighten.

“This is ridiculous,” I whispered. “Father’s men aren’t going to break into the guest room.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” he said, stepping closer.

“Then what are you worried about?”

He shook his head and locked eyes with me, shutting the door on the conversation. I hated that he wouldn’t elaborate. Hated that he still wore the same calm expression he did at home. The same bodyguard mask when it was just us.

“You don’t trust them?”

“No. Do you?”