Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 118309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
“Ironic or poignant?” My voice is jam-packed with emotion. “It brought us together, didn’t it?”
He nods before reminding me of how stupid I have been. “And almost tore us apart.”
“That’s not true.” I shake my head, disagreeing with him. “If you had been honest with me at the start, I would have understood.”
My lips don’t know whether to harden into a stern line or crack into a smile when he mutters, “Still a shit fucking liar, Doc.” They choose the latter when he adds, “But it is one of the things I love about you the most, and the sole reason I won’t give up on us. I’ll never force you to do anything you don’t want to do, but I sure as fuck ain’t letting you walk out on me without giving this a real chance.”
Love? He loves me?
“You fucking kneecapped me, Doc. From the moment I saw you, I knew I needed to make you mine. But I can’t change who I am.” He bangs his chest. “I protect the people I love, and I destroy the people who try to hurt them.” His following words expose he is not a man who usually holds a conversation. He gives orders, and you either follow them or face his wrath. “But I’m trying for you, Doc. Every. Fucking. Day. I try for you.”
My shoulders relax, and the pain that’s been stretched across my chest for almost a decade eases.
He’s fighting the same demons of his childhood as I am, pushing past the same neuroses.
And he’s doing it for me as much as he is himself.
“I—”
Maksim pushes his finger to my lips, silencing me, before proving he will always be a man who operates on actions instead of words. “Don’t tell me, Doc. Show me.”
We don’t make it to the bedroom before buttons pop and zippers are yanked down.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“That was…”
I don’t have words to describe Aleena’s rehearsal dinner.
The food was lovely, and the setting was romantic, but there were little conversations held between the Galdeans and the Dokovics before Kazimir arrived, and it nosedived to uncomfortable once the focus was directed to the groom who arrived an hour late for his dress rehearsal dinner.
Aleena did her best to bring the mood up. She introduced Kazimir to her family and friends with the gushing you’d expect from a woman in love and promised his grandfather a prompt and well-reared bloodline, but nothing she did helped.
The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.
Even Zoya struggled to break through it, and she usually craves awkward situations.
“Have the Galdeans met Kazimir previously?” I ask Zoya as we walk down the corridor of the hotel hosting Aleena’s nuptials, shadowed by the security Maksim was adamant I had to have since he needed to leave dinner early.
Maksim didn’t say this is one of his hotels, but the opulence of the penthouse suite, and the proprietary name above the front entrance door, gives it away. I won’t mention how the staff flurry around him to answer his every whim, or you’ll think I am a jealous twit.
He didn’t pay them an ounce of attention throughout dinner. His eyes were forever on me—as were his hands. I guess I could blame the stuffy conditions on my body’s response to the briefest brushes of Maksim’s fingers when they skimmed the skin high on my thigh. But I prefer placing the blame on others—regretfully.
I never thought I’d have the confidence to participate in a public display of affection, but I was five seconds from begging Maksim to slide his finger higher before a call stole his attention from me. The number on the screen of his phone was unknown, but Maksim’s eagerness to answer it has me convinced he has the number stored in his memory bank.
“Who?” Zoya asks, drawing my focus back to her, still deep in thought.
“Kazimir,” I repeat while scanning my keycard over the room lock of the penthouse suite. “Aleena’s husband-to-be.”
“Oh… yeah. Him.” She enters before me before finalizing her reply. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
Her skittish response raises both my brow and my suspicion, but before I can grill her on it, a primal, visceral instinct to raise my eyes bombards me. I am sensing my mate, aware of Maksim’s closeness, but something much greater is demanding my focus.
My heart launches into my throat when my eyes follow the prompts of my brain and heart. Maksim is in the living room of our suite. He isn’t alone. A beautiful dark-haired specimen stands across from him, and his presence sends my heart into a flutter.
“Daddy!”
The shackles circling his wrists and ankles clatter when I throw myself into his arms before burying my head into his neck. He can’t hug me back since he is restrained, but the words he whispers in my ear make up for a lack of physical contact. “Hey, baby girl. I’ve missed you so much.”