Page 39 of Devil's Vows
“Yeah, I checked in a few times.”
Throughout the day, he sent me notifications thatnow is a good timewith their location, and I logged in to the new security system we have in place. I have full-color coverage of what’s going on in my house, sound included, twenty-four-seven.
I watched Gabriella interact with the girls, totally oblivious to the fact she’s being observed on camera. Or so it seemed. She was so natural, so at ease with them. They seem to be at ease with her, too. She isn’t a fan of Yuri, that much I can tell, but he will grow on her. Everything went well and if this goes on, my life will be sorted.
“We’ll move the gate,” I whisper back, “to include her room.”
Our room, if I play this right.
He nods, and we don’t need more words. We’ll see each other in the morning. I wait for him to walk off and disappear down the stairs. Our regular night-time security will now take up position and keep an eye on things.
I stare into Gabriella’s room. She kept the door ajar, which a man could almost construe as an invitation.
With a suppressed smirk, I pad over to her bed and stare down at her where she’s fallen asleep, sitting, her book in her lap. Like this, with the soft glow of the bedside lamp, she looks angelic, her long, thick lashes crescent moons. Her hair falls in soft waves to her shoulders, and with her practical nightshirt, it covers everything I really want to see.
My gaze travels down the elegant column of her neck to the triangle made by her collar and those first little buttons. It would be so easy to reach over and circle my fingertip around the hollow of her throat, to the sides, caressing the ridges of her delicate collarbones, then inch down to her sternum, which protects her heart. How easily I could slide my hand underneath the shirt and graze the smooth slope of her breast, all the way to the peak.
Fuck. Now I’m getting hard.
But damn the joy of desiring the woman I plan to make my wife. It’s unexpected, and for some unknown reason, I feel undeserving of every emotion flickering through my veins.
I close my eyes, blocking the visual of her so I can calm the fuck down. It’s been too long for me, for a man with my needs. A few more days won’t matter. I have time—wehave time—and I’ll do this right. For the girls’ sake. They don’t deserve another mother who uses them to try to manipulate me and ends up hating them when her methods are ineffective.
After a long moment, I lean over, gently extract her book, and place it on the nightstand. It’s a piece of art, and she’s talented. That she had a chance to hone this skill while in a convent is remarkable. I’ll get her all the supplies she needs to do more. She’d love that, and the girls would be completely enchanted, too.
I switch off the bedside lamp, and with a soft click, close her bedroom door. Once in my suite, I head toward the girls’ treasure chest and peer in, making sure they’re safe.
I exhale the deep breath I seem to hold and can only release when we’ve made it through another day. When I see them like this, I’m always dumbstruck to the point of rage that someone would intentionally harm a child, so defenseless, so pure and innocent, still free from the bruises and scars life will inevitably bring.
I don’t know when I’m going to stop being this level of neurotic—probably only once I’ve eliminated Nikolai Chertnikov. I’m Pakhan, and with it comes certain expectations, but I have a line I’ll never cross: children. No doubt Chertnikov wouldn’t give a fuck; just one more reason to get to him first before he launches his next offensive. Only problem is, he’s in Russia, and I’m here. Warfare by proxy is a cowardly affair, one I’ll never enter into. I’ve vowed to look Chertnikov in the eye as I slit his throat.
With a sigh, I lean in to switch off the girls’ night lamp. It throws a pattern of stars onto the wall, just enough light so they won’t wake up in complete darkness. For a moment, I hesitate, but then retract my hand. It might be fake magic, but it’s magic all the same, and I’ll keep it going for as long as I can.
I head for the shower, make quick work of it, knowing I need to be back on the job at the crack of dawn. I roughly dry, wrap the towel around my waist, and stroll over to the walk-in closet just as Gabriella walks into the bedroom.
Fuck. I forgot about the gate.
This is how easy it would have been…
For a moment, we stare at each other, in equal shock.
“I fell asleep, and then I heard noises… Heavens. I tried to stay awake until you got home?—”
“It’s really late, Gabriella. I don’t expect you to stay up.”
This woman is no threat. She has a spot of bedhead which is so endearing right now, and the way she rubs at her eyes tells me she’s still half asleep. Fuck, must she be so young?
“The gate—” She breaks off as her gaze slides down my body, slowly registering exactly what she’s walked into.
I should have jerked off in the fucking shower, because that blush is going to undo me.
“Sorry, I—” she starts again.
I wait for her to actually complete a sentence.
Come now, little bird, use your words.
I don’t move; I let her stare. It’s a lot to take in for a virgin straight out of the convent who has probably never seen a man this naked before. Except maybe for Michelangelo’s David, but something tells me this woman doesn’t have many miles on her, not of the touristy, staring-at-nude-statues-that-aren’t-Christ-on-the-Cross type.
