Page 161 of Wicked Savage

“No,” I answer honestly, my throat tight. “But I wasn’t as young as you were.”

“That doesn’t matter, does it?” Her fingers graze over my stubble, her touch light and electric. “We did what we could with what we had.”

The truth stings, but it doesn’t make the burden of our pasts any easier to carry.

“I thought I saw him,” she goes on.

“What?” That instantly gets my attention. “Who?”

“My father.” She visibly shudders.

“Where?”

“At the wedding.” Anxiety settles on her features.

“That’s impossible,” I say, trying to reassure her, though doubt creeps into my own mind. “Everyone who came in went through security. But I’ll have my people look at the footage. If he was there, we’ll find out.”

She exhales slowly, her body relaxing a little, but there’s still an edge of fear in her voice. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me. As your husband, it’s my job to protect you.” My palm runs up her back, knowing I’d die for her before I let someone hurt her. “If he comes near you, Dinara, I’ll kill him with my bare hands. I swear to God, I will. That goes for anyone.”

She burrows deeper into my chest. “I know.”

“You’re not alone anymore. I’m here.” I kiss her forehead, my lips brushing her skin. “Close your eyes, baby. It’s okay to dream.”

She smiles up at me—a real smile, the kind I remember from before. The ones that made everything feel possible.

Then she closes her eyes and I hold her all night, not sleeping a wink.

CHAPTER44

DINARA

I let out a groan,stretching across the soft bed. The remnants of the nightmare are now gone, leaving me with a sense of relief and ease. It’s like the grip it had on me loosened as soon as he held me. Like in his arms, I was safe.

When I open my eyes, the spot beside me is empty, and a pang of longing tugs at my chest.

Did he have to work this morning? Does he even have a set routine?

I realize I have no idea what his days look like. He’s still a mystery in so many ways.

I decide a shower is the best way to start the day, but as I step through the adjoining door to my room and pull open a drawer, I freeze. My clothes are gone.

“What the hell?” Frantically, I go through every drawer, then rushing to the closet. But nothing. None of my clothes are here.

Confusion stirs in my head. I quickly make my way back to his bedroom, wondering if he decided to move me into his room permanently. Knowing my husband, I wouldn’t be all that surprised.

When I open the walk-in closet door, a scoff escapes me. Of course he did. My things are here, filling an entire half of the closet. Neatly hung, organized, everything in its place.

When did he even have time to do this? It’s so early.

I move toward his dresser, finding the right side completely filled with my clothes, carefully folded.

He really did this. Presumptuous as ever.

Grabbing a pair of leggings and a tank top, I head to the bathroom. When I turn on the shower, steam quickly fills the space. Stripping down, I step inside, letting the warm water run over me.

A minute later, the bathroom door creaks open, and through the misted glass, I see him. He strides toward me, and before I can react, he effortlessly slides the shower door open, his gaze dragging down my body with a heady grin.

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