Page 41 of Twisted Fate

Sophia isn’t happy that I didn’t wake her up. “You should have let me take a watch,” she tells me curtly as we pack up, heading out through the thick drifts of sand to find the Land Rover that the guide left behind. “You let me sleep all night.”

“Exactly.” I toss our bags in the truck, getting in and starting it. “I’m your husband. I told you I’d keep you safe, Sophia. That doesn’t involve letting you sit awake in danger while I get my rest.”

She doesn’t say anything after that.

The drive back to the resort is tense, the air between us charged with everything we almost did in the storm-batteredtent—and everything we did do. I grip the steering wheel tighter than strictly necessary as we bounce over the rough ‘roads’ on the way back to the resort, stealing occasional glances at Sophia next to me. She sits stiffly in the passenger seat, her profile striking against the rising sun, her hands folded in her lap. I can see the outline of her gun on her thigh, with the skirt pressed tightly against her legs.

My cock twitches, remembering last night and how close we came to crossing every line I’d drawn between us. We crossed several, as it was, but if we hadn’t been interrupted?—

I would have fucked her. I would have fucked her raw, filled her up with my cum, and made her mine in every way that counts.

Despite everything I told her before.

So does that change anything now?I could take her back to bed the minute we’re at the resort, as soon as we’re finished filling the security in on what happened. I could fuck her for the rest of the day, until I’ve had my fill and the day after, and?—

Are we really going to stay?

I can’t take her directly to bed, I remind myself. I need to call my father. And if I’m thinking straight now, which I should be, I’ll put distance between Sophia and me again. I’m not ready for an heir, not now, not when I’m still working out what I’m going to do about me and my father’s differences in how we want to run the Bratva.

I should tell her that last night was a mistake. That it won’t happen again, not until I’m ready to get her pregnant.

My cock swells at the thought, thickening along my leg, throbbing with unfulfilled need.

I hadn’t planned to ever touch her like I did last night. I hadn’t planned to ever eat her out or have her suck me off. I’d planned on fucking her clinically, coldly. On doing whatwas necessary to have a child and keeping all the extraneous pleasures out of it.

All because of how she affects me. Because of how easily she gets under my skin.

She’s doing it now, just by sitting there.

I glance over at her again. There’s something about her that I can’t quite figure out. She claims to be trained in self-defense, to have been taught to use weapons by her late father and her guardian, that all of this is just in service of making sure that she doesn’tneeda protector, even if she has one. But there was something else there in the way she handled herself during the attack. The way she moved, how precise she was with the gun. How perfectly she landed her shot, even in the swirling dust storm. It was too practiced, too precise for someone who claims to have only basic self-defense training from an overprotective father.

"You're quiet," she says, breaking the silence that's stretched between us since we left the campsite.

"Just thinking." I keep my eyes on the road, not trusting myself to look at her directly. Not now, when my suspicions are warring with the desire still coursing through my veins.

"About what happened back there?" her voice is soft, tentative in a way that doesn't quite match the woman who helped me fight off an armed attacker just hours ago.

"Among other things." I flex my fingers on the wheel. "You handled yourself well. Better than well."

She shifts in her seat. "I told you my father taught me?—"

"Yes, you did." I cut her off. "It was impressive."

She goes quiet again and stays that way until we reach the resort. The moment we pull up, staff approaches with questions. It’s another hour before we’ve talked to security, heard their apologies and given our statements, and had our concierge take us back to our rooms. It’s clear that he’s concerned with thenumber of issues we’ve had on this trip—he’s practically falling all over himself to compensate us in any way he can to make up for theinconvenience.

“I need to make some calls,” I tell Sophia, gesturing toward the dividing door. “I’ll come check on you when I’m done.”

For once, she doesn’t argue. She just nods, walking toward the door. She looks tired, and I feel a flash of unusual concern.

She glances back at me as she stands in the doorway. “I’ll see you at dinner?” she asks, and there's a vulnerability there that makes something in my chest tighten. She seems softer, suddenly, than she did last night or this morning. Something tugs at me to go to her, but I resist it. I need to talk to my father. And I need to not let her affect me this way.

“Of course.” I watch her go through the door, her hips swaying in a way that makes me want to follow her, regardless of how exhausted I am too.

The door shuts behind her, and I call my father.

"Konstantin." His voice is gruff and impatient when he answers, hoarse from his cough. "This better be important."

“I’ve been attacked twice in the last two days.” I keep my voice low, moving to the other side of the room. I don’t think Sophia would try to listen in on my call, but instinct demands that I get as much privacy as possible. “They both seemed like professionals. The second more so than the first. Someone is after me. They know I’m here and where I’m going. We went on a private trip last night—the guide that went with us was the one who attacked.”

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