Page 33 of His Nephew's Ex
“Except my freedom.”
The bitter edge to her words makes me want to pull her against me and show her exactly why she belongs here, why the protection I’m offering is worth whatever independence she thinks she’s sacrificing. But we have time for that—all the time in the world now that she’s under my roof.
“Freedom is an illusion,stellina. Safety is real.”
She turns to face me fully, and the fire in her brown eyes makes my blood heat despite the gravity of our situation. “Don’t call me that like everything’s normal between us. Like I chose to be here.”
“Didn’t you?” I trace the line of her jaw with one finger, feeling her pulse spike beneath my touch. “You could have run. Could have taken your chances with whoever’s hunting you instead of accepting my protection.”
“Protection,” she repeats, and there’s something almost mocking in her tone. “Is that what you call holding me prisoner in your fortress?”
“I call it keeping you alive.” The car door opens, and I climb out before turning to offer her my hand. “The rest is negotiable.”
She ignores my offered hand, sliding out of the car with fluid grace that makes my mouth water. Even in fear, even in anger, she moves like she was born to command attention. Like she was made to be claimed by a man strong enough to handle her fire.
The main foyer swallows us in marble and crystal, but Loriana barely glances at the opulence surrounding her. Her focus is entirely on me as I dismiss the staff with a subtle gesture, leaving us alone in the vast space.
“Where am I staying?” she asks, adjusting the overnight bag on her shoulder.
The question I’ve been expecting, the line in the sand I’m about to obliterate completely.
“My room.” The words drop between us like stones into still water, creating ripples of shock across her features.
“Like hell I am.”
“Like heaven you are.” I start toward the grand staircase, knowing she’ll follow because she has no choice. “My protection extends to every hour of every day,stellina. That includes the hours when you’re most vulnerable.”
“Vulnerable?” Her heels click against marble as she hurries to keep up with my longer stride. “What exactly do you think is going to happen to me in my sleep?”
“Nothing. Because you’ll be sleeping next to a man who kills people for a living.” I pause on the landing, turning to face her with a smile that’s equal parts promise and threat. “Unless you’d prefer to test your luck alone in a guest room with windows that face the woods?”
The color drains from her face as the reality of her situation sinks in. She’s not just staying in my house—she’s staying in my world, where every shadow could hide an enemy and every moment of carelessness could be her last.
“I won’t share a bed with you,” she says, but her voice lacks the conviction it held moments before.
“You will. Because the alternative is being dead, and I prefer my woman breathing.” I continue up the stairs, not bothering to look back. “Don’t worry,stellina. I won’t touch you until you ask me to.”
“I won’t ask.” The words come out sharp, defiant, absolutely delicious in their futile bravado.
“Keep telling yourself little lies if they help you sleep at night.”
My bedroom suite occupies the entire east wing; a sprawling space designed for a man who never intended to share it with anyone. The California king dominates the center of the room, while floor-to-ceiling windows offer a panoramic view of grounds that stretch to the tree line.
Loriana stops in the doorway like she’s afraid crossing the threshold will damn her soul. Smart woman—it probably will.
“This is temporary,” she says, setting down her bag with careful precision. “Just until the threats stop.”
“Of course.” I move to the walk-in closet, already loosening my tie. “Purely practical.”
“And you’ll stay on your side of the bed.”
“I’ll sleep however I fucking want in my own bed.” I emerge from the closet in just my dress shirt and pants, noting how her eyes track the movement of my hands as I work the buttons. “But I won’t touch you without invitation.”
“Good.” The word barely makes it past her lips, and I don’t miss the way her breathing has changed, or how her attention keeps drifting to places it shouldn’t.
I continue undressing with deliberate slowness, letting her watch as I peel away the layers that separate the businessman from the predator beneath. The dress shirt hits the floor, followed by my belt, until I’m standing before her in nothing but my black briefs.
Her sharp intake of breath is music to my ears.
