He steps closer to me, pitching his voice low to prevent Adam from hearing. “What did I say about walking around the estate in so little clothing?”
I narrow my eyes at him, feeling a flicker of rebellious anger.How dare he?Mingles withwe need him, and I don’t know what to say at first. I can’t afford to piss him off, but at the same time,how fucking dare hecriticize my choice of bikini?
“You shouldn’t mind other men looking at me if you don’t want me for yourself.”
The response comes out before I can stop it. It’snotwhat I should have said at all. I see Damian’s eyes darken instantly.
“You’re still mine,dikaya koshka,” he growls, his voice dangerously low. “And I don’t want to have to blind my best men for looking lustfully at my wife.”
“I wore a cover-up out here,” I say defensively, pointing at the lounge chair. “But I want to get some sun, so if any of them walk past, they’re just going to have to avert their eyes.”
Damian presses his lips together, as if he wants to say something else, but just then Adam lets out a squeal and a splash that has mequickly looking to make sure that nothing has happened. In that same moment, Damian turns to look at Adam, too, and there’s something in Damian's expression as he looks at my son that makes my chest tight. It's not the cold, closed-off look he's been giving me. It's something softer, almost wistful.
"Do you know how to swim?" Adam asks, the question clearly pointed at Damian, who hesitates before answering.
“I do,” he says finally.
"Will you teach me to dive? Mama says I'm too little, but I'm not too little,” Adam insists, and I bite back a laugh. It’s so like a child to try to leverage anyone else to get what they want, even if that person is a ‘scary man’. Clearly Adam must not find himthatscary, which I’m glad of. Whatever is going on between Damian and me, I don’t want my son afraid of the man protecting us.
I expect Damian to make an excuse and leave. Instead, he squats down on the edge of the pool next to where Adam is. "Show me what you can do first."
And then, for the next hour, I watch my brutal, terrifying husband patiently work with my son. He doesn't get in the water, but he kneels at the edge, showing Adam how to position his hands, how to tuck his chin. When Adam manages a clumsy but successful dive, Damian's face breaks into something that might actually be a smile.
"Did you see, Mama? Did you see me dive?" Adam calls out, his face glowing with pride.
My chest tightens. I rarely miss having a partner to raise Adam with me. I’ve never had one—I’ve always been a single mother—so I don’t really knowwhatI’m missing. But I feel like I just saw a taste of it, and suddenly there’s an ache in my chest that I’ve never had before.
"I saw, baby. That was amazing."
When I look back at Damian, the softness is gone. He's staring at me with an expression I can't read, something dark and conflicted. Then he's standing, grabbing his jacket.
"I have to go," he says abruptly.
"Damian, wait?—"
But he's already walking away, leaving me staring after him. Adam is chattering away about how cool Damian is and how much he likes his new dad, and I can’t bring myself to explain to Adam that Damian isn’t going to be a dad to him, not like that. All I can think, as I watch my husband retreat, is thatthis was a mistake. But how could it be, when the alternative was so unthinkable.
That night, I can't sleep. I keep thinking about the way Damian looked at Adam, the careful patience in his voice. This is the same man who keeps me at arm’s length, who clearly thinks he has no place being around a mother and her child, who pushes us away at every opportunity. But I saw something different today. And I don’t know why, or how, Adam managed to break through to Damian in that moment.
I’m just afraid that mine isn’t the only heart that’s going to hurt when this is all over.
I toss and turn until I finally throw the covers back, my mouth dry, wishing I’d brought up a pitcher of water and a glass before bed. I grab a robe that will cover me sufficiently in case Damian sees me, and I pad down the hall to the stairs. I’m halfway to the kitchen when I hear voices coming from another room—Konstantin and Damian’s—and I freeze.
I know I should keep going, that I shouldn’t listen in to conversations that likely have nothing to do with me, but I can’t help myself, or my curiosity.
"—dealt with the traitor," Konstantin is saying. "And the security team has been questioned thoroughly. There shouldn’t be another infiltration of the estate."
"Good." Damian's voice, rough and tired. "What about the Russos?"
"Still hunting them down. But Sienna is safe here, for now. I’ll let you know when the next batch of intelligence comes in. Until then, we’ll keep picking at those who might have more information. I’ll send you out tomorrow night, there are a couple of old contacts who might know more."
There's a pause, and then Konstantin speaks again. "You know, I never thought I'd see you teaching a kid to dive."
Damian’s voice tightens, a grumble in his words. “How’d you see that?”
“Valentina and I were taking a walk.”
"It was nothing."
