Page 103 of Breaking Ophelia
I press my finger to the newest scar, a thin red line just above the wrist bone. “This one’s new.”
He studies it like he’s seeing it for the first time. “Had a run-in with one of Slade’s guys.”
I frown. “They’re supposed to be protecting us.”
He chuckles. “They are. I just needed to remind them whose house this is.”
I don’t ask for details. I know what he’s capable of, and what he’ll do to keep me safe. There’s no point pretending otherwise.
Instead, I lean in and kiss the scar. Then the next one. Then the next.
He watches me, eyes gone soft.
“You’re a fucking angel,” he says.
“Wrong,” I correct him. “I’m a survivor.”
He kisses me, slow this time. Gentle. Like he’s afraid I’ll disappear.
I rest my head on his chest, listen to the thud of his heart.
“What are you working on?” I ask, because I know he’s been busy, and because I want to hear him talk about the future instead of the past.
He runs his fingers through my hair, slow and soothing. “Building another business,” he says. “Import-export. Legal, mostly.”
I laugh. “Mostly?”
He shrugs. “Old habits die hard.”
I poke his ribs. “What about your father’s empire? The Board?”
He makes a face. “They can rot. I’m done with all that. This is ours. Just you and me.”
I like the way that sounds. “And the guards.”
He rolls his eyes. “Necessary evil. At least until I’m sure they’ve lost our scent.”
“Maybe I’ll start training them. Make them weed the garden or something.”
He laughs, really laughs, and the sound fills up the whole greenhouse.
I close my eyes, savor it.
For a minute, everything is perfect.
But perfection never lasts. Not in this world. It’s all just stolen moments until the next problem we have to solve.
And that’s okay.
Because we’re together and together we’re immovable.
The sun shifts, the shadows moving across the glass. I see the silhouettes of the guards, black shapes against the silver light. They’re always there, always watching.
Caius senses the change in me, the way my shoulders tense, the way my breath shortens. He pulls me closer, arms locking around my waist.
“You’re safe, baby girl. I promise on my fucking life.”
I hop off his lap as he moves to stand and he helps me up, sets me on my feet, and brushes the dirt from my legs. His hands linger, thumbs tracing circles on my skin.
