Page 15 of Soft Tissue Damage
“Have fun at your poker game, Mr. Grant.”
I flash her a smile as I head out. “Thank you, Elena. Text me if you need me.”
Six hours later,I pull the black nylon ski mask from my head when I’m a few blocks from home and rub my hand back and forth over my rumpled hair. It’s just past three in the morning, and the streets are nearly empty as I drive along.
I grin in the darkness. Success.
We broke into the property via a window not overlooked by the neighbors, and while my team waited outside, I went in to hunt for the alarm control panel. Most people want it installed in an upstairs cupboard, but I guessed that because the owner of this house is a criminal, he’d overthink it, and I was right. I located the panel in forty-nine seconds in a temperature-controlled basement room being used to store wine, and smashed it with a tire iron until it was a mess of wires and broken circuit boards.
After that, there were some security cameras to take care of. The job was clean. We got the stolen artwork and delivered them to the drop point, and my team and I slipped away unseen.
I obsessively checked on Elena and Rosie throughout the night, as often as I could. I don’t tell people that my home is full of hidden cameras and microphones because they’ll think I’m a psycho, but if I’m not vigilant, something could happen to my family. I watched Elena make herself a snack at nine-thirty, and she went to bed just before ten in the guest room. Rosie’s crying on the baby monitor woke her up at one-thirty, and for a while, I watched Elena rocking my daughter in her arms and singing softly to her.I wanted to go on watching her, but it was time to vacate the premises.
As I park in the garage, I see that I have a text from Tyrant. He must have heard from my client, thanking him for recommending me.
Tyrant: You’ve still got it, baby.
Cullan: Are you happy I’m out here living my best life?
Tyrant: One of us. One of us.
I grin, get out of my car, and change back into the clothes Elena saw me leave the house in. As I head inside, I notice that there’s another text from Tyrant.
Tyrant: Promise me that if you get married again, you’ll fucking tell her what you do.
A woman who knows about my dark side, and she’ll still marry me? That would be the dream.
Upstairs, Elena has fallen asleep in the nursery armchair with Rosie in her arms. My daughter is sucking her thumb. Elena has her arms curled protectively around the sleeping child in a way that makes a warm feeling spread through my chest. It’s so sexy. I’ve always found mothers sweetly holding their children to be a special kind of beautiful. Elena holding my baby? On another level. I lean my exhausted body against the doorframe and watch her and Rosie sleeping. I wish I could capture this moment and keep it with me always.
Then I remember that I can. Digging out my phone, I take a picture of Elena holding Rosie while they sleep. I intended to take just one, but I hesitate as I go to put my phone back in my pocket. I really want to remember thismoment, and what if I haven’t taken the perfect photo yet? I take several pictures of them, from high angles and low angles. Elena and Rosie look that good together. Asking Elena to look after my daughter was definitely the right choice.
I pluck Rosie gently from Elena’s arms and tuck my baby into her crib. I smile and stroke her plump little cheek. “Were you good for Elena? Who’s Daddy’s princess?”
Elena is still fast asleep in the nursery chair. I could leave her there, but she works hard, and she needs to rest in a proper bed. I lean down and slide one arm under her shoulders and another beneath her knees, then I lift her into my arms. God, she feels good nestled against me, and for a moment I don’t move. I lower my nose to her black hair, and breathe in. She smells like apricots. I shouldn’t be enjoying holding another man’s woman in my arms, especially when that woman is dating my son, but the night’s heart-pumping, adrenaline-filled events have made me feel powerful.
Reckless.
Like I can have anything I want.
Elena’s head rests on my shoulder, and as she sleeps, I whisper into her hair, “Who’s Daddy’s good girl?”
I say the words just to know how they’ll feel in my mouth.
They feel illicit. Forbidden. And absolutely delicious.
4
Elena
Iwake up, and I don’t know where I am for a moment. Then my eyes focus, and I recognize the room. It’s the guest room in Mr. Grant’s house.
That’s strange. I don’t remember going to bed. I have a vague memory of a deep, sexy voice in my ear, and a hand caressing my cheek in the dark. I must have been dreaming.
My phone is on the nightstand, and I snatch it up, opening the app to check on Rosie. I smile when I see she’s still fast asleep. It’s a quarter to six, so I think I have time for a quick shower before she wakes up.
By the time I shower, brush my hair, and put on a fresh top and jeans, Rosie is stirring in her crib and starting tocry. I hurry into the nursery and pick her up. I worry that Rosie will scream louder when she finds she’s being held by someone who’s practically a stranger, but her cries subside, and she smiles at me.
Mr. Grant has made her feel secure and very loved. My heart melts.
