Page 31 of The Enforcer's Vow
"I do. After what we discussed, I feel like you're right. We don't know each other well enough for marriage, so I'm going to tell you about my childhood."
She blinks, surprised. "Why?" she asks, studying me with curiosity, like this is so different from what she expects me to be like. Hell, it shocks me too.
"Because I've never told anyone. And I think you should know."
I settle into the chair across from her, studying her face. "I was eight when my father first took me to see a man die. He said it was necessary. That I needed to understand what we were, what we did."
Her face remains neutral, but I see the slight tension in her shoulders.
"I threw up afterward. My father was disappointed. He said weakness was a luxury we couldn't afford. He was right."
"That's a terrible thing to do to a child."
"It was necessary. We don't live in a world where innocence survives."
She sips her wine and watches the fire. "No. We don't."
"I learned to bury the part of me that flinched. To become what was needed. But sometimes, late at night, I wonder what I might have been if I were different."
"Different how?"
I lean forward. "Quieter. Normal. The kind of man who comes home to the same woman every night, who builds a life instead of tearing them down."
"You think about that?"
"I think about what it would be like to live a life where violence wasn't the answer to every problem. Where trust wasn't a weakness."
She sets down her glass. "That's not who you are." Her tone is sardonic and her expression grim. She avoids eye contact, which tells me she doesn’t hold out hope that I could be different, and neither do I, really, but I really have had these thoughts at times.
"No. But it's who I could be. With the right person."
"What kind of person?"
I turn her head by her chin and hold her gaze. "Someone loyal. Someone sharp enough to see past the surface. Someone who understands that men like me don't change for many people, but when we do, it's permanent."
She looks away, but I see the color rise in her cheeks.
"I've been thinking about you," I continue. "About what you said last night. About not being able to trust anyone."
"I shouldn't have said that."
"Why not? It's true."
She stands and moves to the window, looking out at the lake. "Because it makes me vulnerable."
"Good. Vulnerability is honesty."
I rise and move to stand behind her. Close enough to smell her perfume, far enough to give her space to run if she chooses.
"I've never felt like this before," I say, and I'm surprised to realize it's true. "I've never wanted to protect someone the way I want to protect you."
She turns to face me. "Maksim."
I reach for her hand. She doesn't pull away. "I want to make an announcement. About us."
"What kind of announcement?"
"That we're going to wed."
