Page 79 of Danger Close
“We’ll see you inside, Mr. President. First Lady Jimenez-Lau,” Cobra said, giving President Lau a smile and nod that was an obvious farewell to extract us from the situation. “We’re going to go inside and sit so we can marvel at how far we’ve come.”
Cobra smiled down at me, as if had raised our childtogether.As if we were a married couple, wanting to reminisce about our long years. For a moment, I felt like I was in a parallel universe where that life was real. Where we had stayed together. Where I had waited for him.
“Please, you know better. Call us Davis and Lucia,” the President corrected. “I hope you’ll let me call you Teresa.”
Cobra was about to bend down to pick me up again, before I pinched him in the ribs. “I can walk,ducon!”
“Fine.” Cobra grinned at me, his eyes bright as he leaned down to kiss my temple. To President Lau–uhm, Davis– he said, “You try to be romantic, and the practical woman shoots you down.”
We walked through the open doors of the large barn, and I was immediately hit with the warmth of little heaters spacedthroughout the room. I moaned, enjoying the warmth. Cobra loosened his grip around my waist as we walked towards the pew benches that made two rows, and an aisle in the middle.
Cobra brushed his lips against my ear. “Never be alone with Roland fucking Griffith.”
Chapter 35
You Felt It Too
Cobra
My hand grazed up and down the slip of a shoulder that peeked out from the burgundy lace. She looked… gorgeous. This was how I always envisioned her on my hardest nights.
Modest, yet form-fitting.
“What is wrong with Roland Griffith?” she asked, quietly.
“You tell me, darling.” I lifted a brow. “You felt it, too.”
She’d squirmed away from him as quickly as I’d put myself between them.
“You know him more than I do.”
“I do.” I wasn’t going to get into it now. Not at Taz’s wedding, at least.
“Why do you think our daughter should marry his son?” My gosh, she was regal when she looked at me with that quizzical brow lifted. “Sons tend to be like their father’s no?”
My fingers swept over the exposed nape of her neck. She had an elegant throat. Like the kind you’d see in old European paintings of rich women. But, somehow, it was even more sophisticated when coupled with her smooth cheeks, golden skin and almond-shaped eyes.
“If I thought Kai Griffith was anything like his father, do you think I’d let this wedding go through?” I kissed her nose, because I couldn’t standnotkissing her in that moment. Everything in me was begging her to have a little faith—in me, in our daughter. In her groom, even. “I am nothing like my father. Kai is nothing like Roland.”
My father was a ruthless, deranged Pakhan of the New York Bratva. My brother was the reigning Pakhan, but also an anti-RICO agent taking down the Mafia from within. Jericho was as deranged as our father, but in a very different way. His insanity was at least on the side of the angels.
“We are not cursed with the fates of our parents.” It was a sentiment she, of all people, should understand. “You are not your mother.”
She surprised the hell out of me when her eyes became unfocused. She looked away, her gaze so fucking distant, she may as well have been staring into the past.
Her whisper was heartbreaking. “Yes, I am.”
Shit.
“Princess…”
“I am exactly like my mother.” Her eyes turned to me again, hard as ice.
“No, you’re not.” I leaned forward until the beak of my nose grazed hers. “You fought back. You fought for our kid. You’re still fighting. Your mother never did that.”
“And what do I have to show for it? A daughter who hates me. A husband who…” She shut her eyes. There was a sparkle of tears on her bottom lashes. “An ex-husband who will leave, once the illusions of the past fade away, and he sees me for what I am.”
“Did you marry someone else? Because I know you’re not talking about me.” I cupped her jaw, careful of her bruises, and planted my mouth on hers.
