Page 96 of Prince of Control
“I don’t want to leave Baranov House.”
I realize it’s true. Even when I ran from Baron, I knew I’d be back. Knew that was where I belonged. Baranov House with its lively occupants is home for me now.
I needed space in that moment, but I wanted him to fight for me. To make it right. To convince me to come back and rule by his side.
I love this man. In a miniscule amount of time, he’s become my everything. My present and, yes, I can see it now–my future.
Joy ignites in Baron’s expression, and he kisses me hard. “I love you, Lara.”
His lips feel different.
When he breaks the kiss I touch them lightly with my fingertips. His lower lip is split and swollen. “How did you get this?”
Baron shakes his head dismissively, like he doesn’t want me to worry about it. “Brash’s men. After you left.”
Anger thrusts up my throat. While Brash was whisking me to the airport, he left his men to beat my husband. I wish I could’ve killed him myself. Brash was pure evil. How did I not see it?
Baron sees my distress and strikes my hair back from my face. “It’s over now.”
“He’s over,” I say. “We’re just beginning.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Lara
I wake in my childhood bedroom with my head resting on Baron’s shoulder. We flew into Moscow last night–or maybe it was this morning. I have no idea how long I slept. I just know that everytime I woke with adrenaline running through my system, Baron’s arms tightened around me, and he murmured softly into my ear until I relaxed and fell back to sleep. He murmured that it was over. That I was safe. That he’d never let anything happen to me.
You’re mine, Lara Baranov, and I won’t let anyone touch you, was the last thing he murmured a few hours ago.
He’s still asleep, which is unusual for him. I guess we both needed the rest. I ease the blankets back to slip out of bed and gasp when I see the state of Baron’s body. He’s in his boxer shorts–we were way too wiped out when we arrived for any sexy times–and his ribs are covered in black, blue, and green bruises.
Gospodi, he probably has some cracked or broken ribs. And this was the state he was in when he came to rescue me! The word hero doesn’t fully express the magnitude of what Baron is. He’s a knight. No, a prince. My prince.
I shower and dress in clothes that were still in my drawers from the last time I visited. Then I head to the living room to find my mom. I saw her when we came in, but I was delirious then. I need another hug.
My father owns three different properties in Russia. Our home in Moscow is an enormous penthouse with gleaming hardwood floors covered in plush rugs. The ceilings are vaulted, and the penthouse is filled with large windows and skylights because my mother likes bright spaces.
I find her in her clay studio, but she’s not at the pottery wheel. She’s standing looking out the full length window holding a cup of tea between her two hands. It’s in a mug she made, and it smells like mint. My father stands behind her, his tattooed arms wrapped around her from behind. Her head rests back against his chest.
“Lara, lyubimaya.” My mom’s face lights up when she sees me, and she sets down her mug of tea and spreads her arms wide.
“Mama. Papa.” I choke up. Even though my kidnapping wasn’t long, it still feels like a miracle to be home back with the people I love.
My parents sandwich me in a tight hug, and I soak in their love. The reason I became a strong, independent woman going to school in another country was because I knew they always had my back.
“I’m mad at you,” I tell my dad, but my voice is teary.
“I have…regrets.” My dad’s voice is gruff, as always.
“You should have told me that Brash was the danger, not Baron. I never would’ve left with him.”
“Yes, he should’ve told you,” my mom says.
I draw a breath to continue to berate him, but my husband walks in, torso bare, hair tousled, wearing the same cargo pants he was in when we arrived. He stops in the doorway, looking uncertain.
That’s when I realize it doesn’t matter.
My dad did what he thought he had to do to keep me safe. I could argue up and down that he should have made other choices, but if he had…I wouldn’t have this gorgeous man in my life right now. If I’d thought he was just a nice guy doing me a favor, I might have insisted on separate bedrooms, knowing he’d honor that. I wouldn’t have fallen head over heels in love with the guy I thought was the enemy.
