Page 22 of Claimed By Daddy

A turn of Cillian’s head and this moment—our secret—will be over. Worse than over if he finds me standing close enough to press my lips to hers. Yet, I can’t stop touching her. Three days ago, I caved—putting my lips and hands on her for the first time.Three fucking days. That’s all it took for her to become the center of my universe—a fucking gravitational pull I can’t tear myself away from. I’ve barely gone more thana moment without having her soft skin against my hands or pouty lips pressed to mine.

“I’ll wait to tell Cian,” I murmur, keeping my voice low and fighting the urge to dip my head to taste the lips lingering below me. “Because I get where he’s at right now. We can wait until things settlea littlewith the Armenians. But I’m not sneaking around forever, princess.”

“Thank you,” she whispers.

I nod, barely. “It’s too cold for you to be out here dressed like that,” I gruff. “You need to head back inside.”

“What about you?”

“You go first.” I lightly tap her hip. “I’ll be right behind you.” I let my hand linger a moment longer—another second of her touch I can’t sacrifice—then slide away and tuck it into the pocket of my sweats.

As I instructed, she walks from me to head inside, pausing at the glass door to glance over her shoulder.Fuck… That look.The things I would give for those loving green eyes and the way they look at me.Like she knows she’s mine.

Pacing slowly along the railing, I count to one hundred and hope the cold will knock some sense back into me. Everything about her—us—is reckless. Messy. Risking absolutely everything, especially now. But if I’m being honest with myself, I don’t care.

A few minutes later, I slip back inside the apartment, finding the tension filling the room as thick as it was when I steppedonto the terrace. The scent of coffee still hangs in the air, mixing with the faint smell of leather from the still-new couches. I fill a mug with the last of the pot, the nutty dark liquid radiating heat against my palm as I carry it into the living room.

Cillian is slouched deep into the cushions of the couch, his face weary and eyes heavy, exhausted from both the situation with the Armenians and his travels. With the blanket still wrapped tightly around her, Eavan is sitting beside him. I take a seat at the other end of the sectional and settle in like it’s just another morning.

“You all right?” Cillian asks, glancing at me.

“Yeah.” I sip my coffee. “Just needed a little air.” He watches me for a moment longer than necessary, like he’s waiting for the rest of a sentence I’m not saying. The words I promised Eavan I would keep to myself a little longer. Letting out a heavy sigh, he leans back into the couch.

“I’m not leaving again,” he promises Eavan, his voice lower and more solemn. “Not unless I have absolutely no other choice.”

“You don’t have to protect me from everything.” Eavan shakes her head at him before her eyes momentarily dart to me. She’s not saying it, but she knows. He doesn’t have to, because I will.

“I’m your brother,” he mutters. “It’s something I should’ve been doing a much better job of.”

“And I love you for it, Cian.” Her eyes glance my way again,quickly. “But you’re not alone in this, okay? This isn’t all on you.”

Cillian nods, his eyes flicking between the two of us. “I know.”

The quiet that follows is laced with discomfort.My discomfort.I sip my coffee to fill the silence, but my thoughts keep drifting to her. The way she looked at me before she went inside. The way her skin feels against mine. And how I don’t know if I’ll survive keeping this secret and not having her touch whenever I want.

Nikolai walks downstairs with wet hair and clean clothes—a renewed vigor in his step. He drops onto the couch beside me and leans forward with his elbows on his knees. “We need to talk about security,” he insists. “This place has been our little secret for years, and we’ve been lax as fuck.”

“You’re right.” I nod, having already gone down this trail of thought myself.

Eavan got upstairs without a problem. A polite nod to the doorman, a short ride in the elevator, and she was standing at our front door. Reinforced or not, if she made it up here that effortlessly, anyone could. The thought turns my stomach—knowing how easily someone could get to my princess.

“I’ll make a call to the building manager,” Cillian informs us. “Tell him we’ll pay whatever it takes to install more security—restrict elevator access, lock down the floor, the whole thing.”

“I know some guys,” Nikolai adds. “Ex-military,special forces. Real disciplined. Don’t ask, don’t tell kind of guys. Not the kind to flinch if things go sideways.”

I shake my head—that so doesn’t mean what he thinks it does—and raise an inquisitive eyebrow. “Mercenaries,” I clarify. “How the fuck do you know guys like that?”

He shrugs. “Where the fuck do you think the guns come from? You think they fall off trucks and walk themselves in?”

I chortle. “With your luck? Maybe.”

Cillian doesn’t even crack a smile. “We stay inside for now,” he insists, eventually. “If they’re watching us, we don’t give them anything.”

“We can’t,” I remind him. “The meeting with all our families is supposed to happen tonight. They’re all waiting for us to provide confirmation and a location. It’s been days since our fathers’ untimely passings, and this meeting has to happen tonight.

“He’s right.” Nikolai agrees. “We need to know where they stand. If they’re gearing up to make a move, we need to be prepared.”

“They’ve all been quiet. Too quiet,” I add.

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