Page 53 of Lethal Devotion
For the next three days, Damian becomes a ghost. I catch glimpses of him leaving early in the morning, hear his heavy footsteps in the hallway late at night, but he might as well be a stranger living in the same house. When our paths do cross, he looks right through me like I'm made of air. He refuses to meet my eyes, refuses to acknowledge what happened between us.
It's maddening. And it hurts more than I want to admit.
I don’t know if he’s watched more of my videos. If he jerks off hoping I’ll disobey and walk in, so he can whip my ass red with his belt and make us both come again. Every day, I’m tempted to break the rules and find out. But Ican’t.
Because it’s not just me who relies on Damian’s protection. And if he was telling the truth—if he’s not playing a game and he wants me to stop, then disobeying him again could get me kicked out instead of a punishment and another mind-blowing orgasm.
I can’t let that happen, not when I have someone who relies on me too. I can’t be selfish and play games with the only thing between us and being back out in the open, exposed for anyone who might be coming after us.
So instead, I stop trying to figure out if Damian wants me to keepplaying. Instead, I take him at his word, and go about spending my days here at the mansion without so much as talking to him. And since he isn’t paying me any attention, I guess that’s actually what he wants.
I hate it. I wish I could change it. But very little is actually within my control any longer.
I intercepted the maid this afternoon, wanting something to do, when I saw her passing with a basket of mine and Adam’s laundry. She tried to argue with me, but I insisted on taking and folding it, and I’m in the informal living room next to the big, sunny windows, folding when Damian walks through.
His phone is pressed to his ear, and he’s speaking in rapid Russian. He's wearing a black suit that fits him perfectly, emphasizing the broad line of his shoulders and the dangerous way he moves. His light hair is slicked back, and there's a cut on his jaw that wasn't there yesterday.
He doesn't even glance in my direction, but I can’t stop staring. He’s so fucking gorgeous—the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. Beautiful and deadly. And he’s myhusband.
I can’t stop thinking about what I’ve seen of him. About how he felt in my hand, in my mouth. I want him again so badly, and it seems like that’s never going to happen.
"Mama, can we go to the pool?" Adam tugs on my shirt, interrupting my train of thought. He's restless and full of energy, as always, and he can’t sit still for long. It’s that age.
"Of course, baby," I murmur, but my eyes are still following Damian as he disappears down the hallway. He disappears, without ever saying a word to me, and I feel my stomach drop.
I shouldn’t be disappointed. Damian is giving Adam and me everything he promised us. There’s nothing that we want for. Even in the terrifying attack the other night, we were protected. We’re still protected.
Damian hasn’t told me anything else about what happened that night. To do that, he’d have to speak to me. I asked Valentina, and she said not to worry. That Konstantin and Damian were handling it, andthere was nothing to fear, that even if there was another attack, we’d be safe here. I’ve tried to internalize that, to not let myself worry. But it’s impossible not to. This is a danger I’ve never had to face, the kind of worry I never imagined having to deal with. And even if Valentina and Adam, and I would be safe… I don’t want anything to happen to Damian.
Maybe it’s the foolish aftereffects of him offering his protection, of the way he’s touched me, of the firsts that we’ve shared. But I can feel myself starting to feel something… more. Starting to care for my husband, in a way that I know I shouldn’t.
I sigh, standing up and picking up the basket. “Let’s go upstairs and change, sweetheart,” I tell Adam, and we head out of the living room and to the stairs to change into swimsuits and grab his water wings so that we can go out to the pool.
It’s an overly warm day for fall, and the pool area is beautiful, like everything else on this estate. The water is crystal clear, surrounded by perfectly manicured gardens outside of the fenced-in deck and comfortable lounge chairs on the deck itself. Adam splashes happily in the shallow end while I sit on the edge, my feet dangling in the warm water. The sun is warm on my shoulders, soothing, and I try not to think about Damian.
Which lasts exactly as long as it takes for him to walk out onto the deck, about twenty minutes after we’ve settled in.
I’m so lost in thought that I don’t hear the creak of the gate or the sound of his footsteps. It’s Adam’s voice that alerts me to his presence.
“Mama, the scary man is here.”
My head whips around faster than it should, and my heart instantly starts beating faster when I see him. He’s shed his jacket, his shirt unbuttoned enough to show a bit of his dark blond chest hair, the sleeves rolled up to show his tattoos on his muscled forearms. My pulse skips, my skin instantly heating for reasons that have nothing to do with the sun.
“Damian.” My voice cracks a little, and I hate it. He pauses, looking between the two of us, and I think I see a faint smile on his lips.
“You think I’m scary?” He addresses the question to Adam, who shrugs, splashing.
“You look scary.”
“Well, that’s good.” The corner of Damian’s mouth lifts. “If I look scary, then I can take care of you and your mother.”
Something twists in my stomach at that, something that comes from some biological core that I never acknowledged before this. I’ve been raising Adam just fine on my own all this time, but something about hearing Damian say he’ll take care of us,bothof us, makes my pulse flutter and my stomach feel strange.
“It’s rude to call people scary, sweetheart,” I murmur, and Damian glances over at me.
“It’s alright,” he says calmly. “He’s just telling the truth.”
I see his eyes sweep over me, taking in my turquoise bikini. It’s not overly revealing, just a normal two-piece, but I think I see jealousy glitter in his eyes.
