Page 44 of Taming a Ruthless Heart

I pull my gaze back to Rose, but it’s like trying to hold sand in a tight fist.The images of Dave from last night worm their way back in, softening something brittle inside me.What we shared was so unguarded that, for a second, I allowed myself to believe that maybe he might still care.I push the thought away.That boat sailed five years ago.I can’t let myself hope, can’t let myself forget what I’ve done.

Rose squeals as Pete does a cannonball into the water, soaking both her and Nadya.She looks over her shoulder, her bright green eyes searching until they land on me.She beams, her smile as pure as sunlight, and I manage to smile back.The guilt tightens in my stomach.Rose should be able to look at Dave with that same love, that same open adoration.She doesn’t know the truth, and I can’t imagine what will happen when she does.

These past few days, I’ve seen a gentler side of Dave—one I’d almost forgotten he had.He’s ruthless, capable of things I can barely wrap my head around.Yet seeing the way he protects everyone he loves makes it clear where his loyalties are.I want to believe he would accept Rose as his own if he knew the truth—one has only to observe the way he interacts with her, like she’s something precious.

At the same time, I can’t ignore his true nature.Dave is a passionate man.What if I don’t tell him the truth and he finds out on his own?What would he do then?He would definitely feel betrayed.He might think I’ve robbed him of something sacred.If I told him myself, would he still hate me?Or would he forgive me for coming clean?

Forgiveness doesn’t come easily for Dave.If he views my actions as betrayal, I might lose him completely.He may accept Rose, but can he accept me?

I dig my nails into my palms.Either way, the fragile trust between us would shatter and I’d lose any chance of giving Rose the life she deserves.

Secrets are shackles, I think, the familiar bitterness compressing my chest.

Resting a hand over my heart, I take a deep inhale.My gaze flickers to the mansion behind me, its walls looming.The weight of what I’m hiding feels heavier here, with him close.I know it’s only a matter of time before the walls I’ve built come crashing down.

As if drawn by my thoughts, Dave steps out of the house, his gaze locking onto mine as he strides toward the pool.My heart skips, the weight of my secrets pressing heavier than ever.

“Mind if I join you?”His voice is low but reaches every corner of my body.

I manage a small smile, even as my pulse skitters.“Go ahead.”

He tilts his head toward two chairs flanking a round table.Accepting his silent invitation, I leave the edge of the pool and cover the few steps separating us.I take one chair.He pulls the other chair close to mine, closer than necessary, and sinks into it with the kind of relaxed confidence that feels both familiar and foreign.His gaze drifts over to the kids, and for a moment, there’s something soft in his eyes.It’s that look he has when he thinks no one is watching, the one that makes him seem almost vulnerable.

“Your daughter’s got quite the arm,” he murmurs, watching as Rose throws Pete a colorful ball.The pride in his voice catches me off guard, and I feel a pang, sharp and deep, twisting with the guilt already settled in my gut.

“Yeah,” I agree, letting out a small, shaky laugh.“She’s feisty.”

His gaze snaps to mine.With a smirk, a slight tilt of his mouth that’s more devilish than gentle, he teases me, “She got it from you.I don’t remember you being the quiet type, Alexia.”

His words send a warm flush creeping up my neck.I focus on Rose, who’s now attempting to dunk Pete, his shrieks filling the air.

I nod.“Maybe a little.But I was also a lot more reckless back then.”

“And now?”

The question hangs between us, heavy and loaded.There’s a glint in his eye, something teasing but also searching.Like he’s trying to pull the answer from me without asking directly.He wants to know if I’ve changed, if the woman I was still exists somewhere beneath the layers of scars and secrets.

“I’ve had to learn restraint,” I reply softly.

Every decision, every step, feels like a balancing act on the edge of a cliff.I can’t afford recklessness, not when one wrong move could unravel everything.

He holds my stare and I notice a slight tension in his jaw, as if he understands exactly what I’m not saying.He glances at the kids again, a faint smile tugging at his mouth, but there’s something guarded in his eyes.The Dave I used to know would have pressed further, would have teased me until I broke.But this Dave is holding back, his silence just as heavy as my own.

“What do you miss the most?”he asks suddenly, his tone softer.When I frown in reply, he clarifies, “Did you leave anything behind when you escaped Igor that you wish you hadn’t?”

The question is so unexpected it catches me off guard.He’s not talking about the mansion, or even our past.He’s asking about the world outside, the life I left behind.

“My cousin, Olivia,” I confess.“We’ve always been very close, like sisters.”

He tilts his head, studying me.There’s something tender in his gaze, a warmth that softens the tension around us.“Olivia,” he whispers as if testing the name.“That one’s a handful.”

A laugh bubbles up, and I meet his gaze.I shouldn’t be surprised he remembers her.“You have no idea,” I say, shaking my head.“However, she has always been there for me.If she knew where I was, she’d probably storm this place herself.”I drop my gaze, suddenly aware of the dangers involved in a situation like that.I return my eyes to his.“I can’t reach out, can I?If Igor even suspects I’ve contacted her, he could find us.”

Dave presses his lips into a stern line before offering me a lopsided smile.“You’re safe here as long as we don’t take unnecessary risks,” he replies, his voice almost too casual.

He leans back in his chair, stretching out with the ease of someone who knows he’s in control.His gaze slides to Rose again, and for a brief second, something raw flashes in his eyes.There’s a longing there, one I recognize because I feel it too—a desire for something neither of us can have, not without tearing open wounds that have never really healed.

I reach over, my hand finding his on instinct.The contact jolts both of us, and for a heartbeat, neither of us moves.His hand is warm, solid, grounding, but the tension thrums between us.I pull back, my cheeks burning, but he holds my gaze, his eyes dark and intense, like he’s searching for answers in mine.

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