Page 102 of Cinderella and the Daddy
"I'll be in touch," Luka says, standing. "Until then, you stay exactly where my men tell you to stay. You don't contact anyone, don't make any moves without my permission. Are we clear?"
"Crystal."
I want to say something more, but I realize I’m never really going to get closure. Some bridges can't be rebuilt. Some betrayals cut too deep, leaving scars that never fully heal.
"I'm sorry it came to this," I tell him quietly.
Charles nods, his eyes bright with unshed tears. "So am I, sweetheart. So am I."
As we walk away, Luka takes my hand and squeezes. This is my family now. Charles had his chance to choose me.
He chose differently.
Now he gets to live with those consequences, just like the rest of us.
29
CINDY
The drive back to the compound passes in tense silence. My mind keeps replaying the broken look in Charles's eyes. I almost feel sorry for him. He has to carry around the weight of choices that can never be undone. But when I glance at Luka's profile, I feel something else entirely.
He protected me. Again. He's willing to kill for me, die for me, and burn down the world to keep me safe. The primal part of my brain that's been awakened by months of living in his dangerous world responds to that protection with a hunger that catches me off guard.
I read about the second trimester. The surge of hormones. And I felt every last bit of it. I wanted him. Needed him.
The drive back is torture. Every gear shift makes Luka's forearm flex, the tendons standing out under his skin. He's rolled his sleeves up—when did he do that?—and I can't stop staring at his hands. The same hands that just signed Charles's life,or death,warrant.
I shift in my seat and catch him glancing over. Just a quick look, but his pupils are dilated. He knows. He always knows.
"You okay?" His voice is deeper than usual.
"Fine." The word comes out breathy. I press my thighs together, trying to ease the ache that's been building since I watched him spare Charles. The mercy in his power. The choice to give life instead of take it.
God, what is wrong with me? The pregnancy hormones are turning me into someone I don't recognize. Someone who gets turned on by moral complexity and dangerous men showing restraint.
Another mile. Leo's already asleep—I can hear Grigori on the radio confirming it. The house will be quiet. We could go straight to our room. We could?—
"Stop that," Luka murmurs.
"Stop what?"
"Whatever you're thinking that's making you smell like that."
I flush hot. "I don't smell like anything."
His knuckles go white on the steering wheel. "You smell like mine."
"Cindy," Luka starts as we enter our bedroom, but I silence him by pressing my mouth to his.
The kiss tastes of danger and possession. I taste the violence that always lurks just beneath his civilized surface. I need that violence right now. Need to feel claimed. Owned and protected by the only man who's ever made me feel truly safe.
"I need you," I whisper against his lips, my fingers already working at the buttons of his shirt. "Right now."
His hands frame my face, thumbs brushing over my cheekbones as he studies my expression in the moonlight streaming through our windows. "Are you sure? After everything tonight?—"
"Especially after tonight." I pull his shirt free, my palms flattening against the warm muscle of his chest. "I need to feel alive. I need to feel you."
Something dark and hungry flares in his eyes. His control snaps like a rubber band stretched too far. Suddenly, his mouth is on mine with bruising intensity. This isn't gentle or tender—this is possession, pure and simple.
