Page 25 of The Enemy's Defector
She rolled hers and smirked. “Why else? To spy for him.”
Not that she would.Katerina would never obey Anton.
“I sent my maid instead,” she admitted. “I told her that she only had to marry someone, then once I found the proof I needed that Anton had killed my father, I’d run away and help her divorce.”
Holy fuck.I blinked, surprised at how cunning this woman was to get the proof she’d wanted for so long. It mattered that much. But that was to be expected. She’d really loved her father and I knew she still missed him.
I tried and failed to imagine Damon or Saul married to her maid. My fraternal twin, Damon, was too much of a demonic killer, too dark to welcome a wife. Saul, my youngest brother, was too much of a carefree player to settle down.
Even though Katerina was here before me, clearly not taken, I was stunned by this irrational possessiveness I had over her. If she were to run away for good or marry someone else, I’d lose all that I had with her. The tentative friendship. The collaborations of her hacking and me spying. Our mutual distrust of Anton. And that one night of hot passion when we’d both snapped.
I didn’t want to lose her at all.
But she can’t be yours.
That fact wouldn’t change. Every minute that we spent together here like this was a risk. If she were caught getting me free, she’d be dead. If my family knew that she was supposed to come to our home to spy on us, she’d be scorned.
Katerina was at more risk being with me—as my lover, maybe as a friend, and definitely as my aid to breaking out. She would be safer far from me, apart from me as I continued this investigation into who could’ve ordered my kidnapping.
I’d do anything to protect her. I was so delirious with wanting her and missing her that I couldn’t accept that she’d fare better away from me.
Just being alone, in the same room with her, was an extreme test on my control and patience. If every inch of my body weren’t screaming in agony from Hayden’s last, brutal beating today, I would’ve had the energy to grab this woman and hold her close to kiss her sweet lips again, to embrace her and absorb every inch of contact between us to be reinvigorated again.
She can’t be yours.
I lowered my gaze, hating that reminder with renewed disappointment. Because she already felt like she was mine. In so many ways, Katerina wasmine. Maxim and my brothers had always given me shit for how close Katerina and I seemed to be. We’d never been able to fully distance ourselves from each other after Anton took over her family and the friendship with our family faded.
Katerina had always been there as the woman I wanted the most.
But now, as she risked herself by freeing me, an ultimate sign of defecting from her uncle and disobeying his wishes, I didn’t know how to ease her into my life and make her mine for real.
Could it be that simple? Just take her, marry her, and keep her? Anton could fuck off and I’d convince my brothers to trust her. They used to, when we were kids. We got along then. It’s not her fault Anton ruined our families’ alliance.
I wanted to believe it could be that simple and possible. That I could feasibly whisk her home and make her mine.
But in order to do that, I had to have more answers. I couldn’t go home at all yet, not when other contractors could be waiting for orders to take or kill my brothers and family members. I had come so close to sticking it out and waiting for someone to speak up and let a clue slip.
Ihadto know who was the mastermind behind my kidnapping, who was out to ruin my family.
Until I could accomplish that, what kind of safety could I ever dream to offer Katerina?
None. I’ll have no promise of security to offer her until I know who the fucking enemy is.
“Nik?” She cupped my face gently, lifting my head until I gazed into her worried blue eyes.
I turned out of her touch, hating to deprive myself of her sweetness and concern.
I couldn’t.
Not now. The second I went soft for her and let her into my heart any more than she already was, I’d be distracted and unfocused.
“I’m going to shower,” I told her, getting up to move toward the bathroom, wherever one might be in here.
Standing was easier said than done, though. I was wobbly on my knees and instantly out of breath.
But she was there, flush against me, holding me up, ever-present as the anchor I wanted and needed to survive the stormy reality of my life.
“Thanks,” I said, unwilling to look her in the eye as I said it—too little and too late. “Thanks for your help.” Claiming one step to the side, I squeezed her hand. “But I’ve got this.”
