“It’s part of the life,” Damian says flatly. “But you’re safe here, and?—”
“I think you should see a doctor,” Valentina cuts in gently, giving Damian a pointed look that seems to saybe kinder.“I know nightmares can be difficult. But you are safe here. Until your nervous system can catch up with that knowledge, it might be worthwhile to have a little help, so you can be well-rested. The less sleep you get, the worse the nightmares will get.”
I bite my lip. “What if Adam cries in the night and I can’t hear him?”
“It’s a sleeping pill, not anesthesia,” Damian growls, and Valentina gives him another look before glancing back at me.
“Something like that will still wake you up,” she reassures me. “Or if there were to be more trouble?—”
“There won’t be any more trouble here,” Damian interjects, hisvoice sharp. “The traitor was dealt with. There will be no more attacks on the estate?—”
“What did you do?” I look at Damian, feeling my heart trip behind my ribs. I don’t know if I want to know… but a part of me feels like I need to. Like I need to hear it, so I can be reminded of what kind of man I’ve married. Of what kind of man Iwant.
Damian looks at me evenly, for a long moment, before answering. “I broke his fingers until I got answers,” he says finally, his voice cool and flat. “And then I took him out on the estate, and shot him.”
“Damian—” Valentina’s voice is warning, but Damian’s eyes are on mine. I don’t want to flinch, but I do. I can’t help it. Torture and death were never a part of my life before. There were other things, bad things, but not…
The look in his eyes makes my chest tighten. It’s like he’s gotten an answer to something he’s been wondering. Like I just answered a question for him, one that I didn’t even know he asked.
“Sleeping pills will help,” Damian says finally. “I made an appointment for you.”
“Konstantin can arrange security,” Valentina adds, and Damian shakes his head abruptly.
“I’ll take her.”
“I—” I blink at him. “You don’t have to?—”
“After what happened, I’m not trusting anyone with your protection other than me,” Damian says flatly. “I’ll go with you, and make sure that nothing happens. The appointment is tomorrow. We’ll go into town, see the doctor, get the prescription filled, and come right back. It shouldn’t take long.”
His tone brooks no argument. It’s clear that he’s not going to tolerate me saying anything against the idea… and honestly, I’m not sure that I want to. I don’t like being followed around by strangers, which is what the other security guards are. I don’t know if I’d feel comfortable going without someone that I know.
I’dratherhave Damian with me. And the fact that he cares enough to see to my protection personally, that he talked to Valentina, that he made the appointment…
It’s kind. It’s caring. It’s not what I would have expected from him, as cold and brutal as he seems, but it’s clear that he’s trying to take care of me. To make up, even, for what he can’t, or won’t give me.
It’s clear that he’s devoted to protecting me. It thaws a little of how I felt after last night, salves a little of the hurt I’ve felt because he’s ignored me since the night of the attack. What itdoesn’tdo is make what I’m starting to feel for him any less.
If anything, it makes it worse. I’m starting to fall for him, to see the man underneath the cold, hard exterior, and the knowledge that this is all temporary, that it won’t last, hurts more than it should.
He makes me feel safe. Cared for, despite his rough exterior. And I manage a small, hesitant smile, giving him a nod.
“Okay,” I whisper. “I’ll go.”
Damian looks at me for a long moment, almost as if he wants to say something. And then, without a word, he walks away.
—
The next afternoon,I leave Adam in the care of Mrs. Horvat and the maids—and honestly, probably also Valentina—while I meet Damian to go to the appointment. The same black Mercedes that I remember from before is parked out front, and Damian comes around to open my door, helping me up into the car. I see his gaze sweep over me, taking in my yellow sundress and dangling earrings, the straw wedges on my feet, before he swallows hard and looks away, closing the door more firmly than necessary.
The drive to the doctor's office is tense and silent. Damian keeps checking his mirrors, and I can see the shape of a gun at his back, where the fabric is tense against it. The reminder of the danger we're in makes my stomach churn. “Are we going to be all right, leaving the estate?” I venture, and Damian looks at me sharply.
“We’ll be fine,” he says firmly. “I’ll make sure of it.”
“I know,” I manage, although the worry still persists, nerves crawling in my stomach. I’ve never been afraid of being outsidebefore. I’ve always loved exploring Miami on my days off, finding new vintage shops to wander through and imagine being able to buy whatever I want, breathing in the smells of cooking food and the salt air, feeling the rush of people all around me. Now it feels like there’s a shadow behind every corner, danger at every stoplight. I hate it.
I’m glad to be back inside when we reach the doctor’s office. It doesn’t take long for me to be called back for my appointment, a nurse quickly taking my vitals—glancing nervously at Damian looming in the corner—and then assuring me that Dr. Francis will be in to see me soon. I have a feeling that the promptness of it all has something to do with Damian’s connections, and Konstantin’s last name.
Dr. Francis is a kind woman in her fifties who doesn't bat an eye at my intimidating escort. She asks me about my sleep, about the nightmares, about my stress levels. I answer honestly, very aware of Damian sitting in the corner like a dark, silent sentinel.
