Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
I open my mouth to yell Quinn’s name, to yell anything, but when nothing comes out, it's my first indication that something is wrong.
When I turn around, there's someone sitting next to me. They're shrouded in darkness. "You can't always protect her."
I sprint forward right before I wake.
I’m in a cold sweat. I'm panting, my heart pounding so fast I'm sick to my stomach.
Like my dream, I'm alone in a dark room, but I'm vaguely aware of noises outside here. Nothing I can hear in detail, but it isn’t the tomb I was in in my mind.
My phone’s plugged in on the other side of the room.
It felt so real. I push myself out of bed, groaning at the pain in my back and shoulders. I pick up my phone and flip through the messages. The only ones I have are from Sergio and Quinn.
Still, I need to see her.
I tuck my phone in my pocket and breathe a sigh of relief when the door easily opens. No one's in the hallway, though.
I call Bruce. He answers on the first ring.
"How are you, Boss?"
"Fine. Quinn?"
I don't want to waste words or time.
"She's fine, sir, she’s in the dance studio." I pick up my pace, trying to get rid of the image of the video I saw in my mind, the feeling that someone was watching her, the knowledge that I truly can't be in all places at all times. Even if I wanted to be.
I make it to the dance studio in record time, panting from exhaustion because I'm still so tired and drugged up. When I finally get there, I nearly push my guards over in my attempt to get inside, and when I open the door, I freeze.
Quinn looks so beautiful, like a flower in bloom, her arms up over her head. She wears a leotard that shows every beautiful curve of her body. My throat catches, she looks so vulnerable, so at peace.
"What happened to self-defense?" My voice is sharp, sharper than I intended.
Quinn startles, her eyes fly open, and she immediately frowns at me.
"What are you doing out of bed?" When she anchors her hands on her hips and tries to look at me sternly, I don’t cower because she's not the one that gets to do that in this relationship.
"Relax. I'm fine. I had a dream."
"A dream or a nightmare?" she asks curiously.
Is there a difference?
"Someone was threatening you." She sighs and walks over to me on bare feet across the length of the dance floor.
"Adriano, I'm fine. You’re going to make yourself sick with worry.” She sighs. "Dance with me?"
I don't want to argue with her, and I don't want to miss an opportunity. So, I do. I gather her in my arms and hold her as we dance to the music, chest to chest. Her cheek rests against my shoulder, her hand soft and trusting in mine. And as the music fills the room, my heart expands.
I might love this woman. I don't know if I've ever loved anyone. My brothers, maybe. I'm loyal to them, and they mean the world to me.
My parents, but it was so long ago now it's but a distant memory.
"Are you in pain?" she asks quietly. It's a question I don't always know the answer to.
"It's better. You?"
"I'm fine," she lies.
We dance until the music fades, and then I hold her in the middle of the dance floor.
"Adriano?"
"Yes?"
"I want to go home." This means something to her. Quinn isn't someone who has a home, and she has said over and over again that the club is our home.
"Tell me more." She knows exactly what I mean.
"I know you say we’re safest here, but even here things happen. There are more people here, but I trust you, and you've taught me self-defense. I want to have privacy with you. I want a place that we can call our own at least for the next couple of months." I try to hide the tremor that runs through me at those last words, at the thought of being separated from her.
"Let's take a break," I tell her.
A look of panic flips across her features.
"A break?"
"A break. From the lessons," I clarify. "I don't know if I'm quite ready to do another self-defense lesson."
She breathes out and nods, obviously relieved.
"What did you think I meant?" I hold her at arm’s length.
"Us."
Us? Jesus. "You thought I wanted to take a break from us?"
"I don't know," she says softly, obviously uncomfortable with this conversation.
I cup the back of her head and bring her closer to me until I can look directly into her eyes. I want to tell her I love her. I want to tell her that there will never be a break between us. I want to tell her that the six months is a fucking joke, and I'm not going to leave her when it's over.