by Jane Henry
“Shh, baby.” I won’t hear of it. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and she’s innocent in this. My voice firms as I make up my mind. “We won’t speak of this again. What happened is in the past, and we’ll put that behind us now. We start right here. Right now. Understood?”
She smiles at me through her tears, so beautiful and sweet and nods. “Yes, daddy.” I’ll never get tired of hearing those words, of holding her like this, of kissing her tear-stained cheeks. That she grants me this privilege is a damn miracle I won’t forget.
And as I hold her to me, my arms wrapped around her as she sighs into my chest, I make a decision.
I will end whatever threat is posed against us here. I will take Taara back to Atlanta where she’s safe.
I know I love this woman. And because I do...she’s not coming to Russia with me.
Chapter 12
Taara
Stefan has something on his mind. I don’t want to ruin this moment, with the two of us still lying together like this it feels sacred, stolen even. But it matters to me what he thinks. I need to know what concerns him.
My feelings for him are resurfacing. I know that now, and while a part of me yells warning in my head, I can’t help but want to let myself love him again. Can I go there?
“What is it, Stefan?” I ask, then I gentle my voice. “Daddy? Is something bothering you?”
I know it is by the way his gaze is distant and clouded, but when he looks back to me, he smiles, his eyes crinkling around the edges, and he kisses my temple.
Predictably, he doesn’t answer the question but turns it back on me.
“Tell me what’s on your mind,” he says.
“No fair,” I respond. “That’s what I asked you.”
In response, he tugs a lock of my hair. “Who’s the daddy?”
Aw, hell, that really isn’t fair. “You,” I say. It’s like he pushes a button when he says that and I get all melty and submissive, which isn’t really me at all, but apparently is me when I’m with Stefan and he pulls the daddy card.
“It’s crazy how hot that is,” I tell him.
“Crazy?” he repeats, his lips quirking upward.
“Crazy,” I repeat.
But he only shrugs a shoulder. “Not sure why.”
“No?” I ask.
“And anyway, I like crazy,” he says. “So yeah, this is hot to me. Having you on me like this, all starry-eyed and disheveled…” He strokes his fingers through my hair, his voice rumbling and unhurried. “The way you came with my name on your lips. Your ass still hot to the touch and striped with my belt.” My heart thumps. “And yeah, baby. The way you call me daddy.”
He holds me to him wordlessly for a moment before he continues. “And I don’t need to ask why or how or what the hell this means. I just know that I like it.”
I rest my head on his chest. I guess his quiet reassurance is good enough for me, too.
“Now,” he says. “Where were we? You were telling me what’s on your mind. Where do you go when you get that distant look in your eyes?”
“I get a distant look in my eyes? Me? I was just thinking that about you.” Seems we’re both distracted.
He chuckles, ignoring my mention of him. “By my calculation, you’re somewhere in the Far East right about now.”
That makes me smile. “I don’t know,” I say truthfully. “I go lots of places, I guess.”
“Tell me one,” he suggests. “It’ll be a good start.”
“You want to know what’s on my mind?” I clarify.
“Yes,” he says earnestly. “But more than that.” He smoothes his large hand over my elbow. “I want to know what’s on your heart. What you fear. What you hope for.”
“Really?” I ask.
“Why do you question me?” he asks, his brows furrowed. “Why wouldn’t that matter to me?” I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me if what Caroline told me is true.
“Well,” I say carefully. “It isn’t like we have a long history of trust between us. I mean, I think we’re sort of on the expedited path…” my voice trails off when he chuckles. “What?”
“The expedited path,” he repeats. “That’s one way to put it. You’re a treasure, you know that?”
No, I don’t know that, but hearing him say it makes me feel tingly and warm all at once.
“Thank you,” I say softly.
“You didn’t answer the question.”
“What was that again?”
“I wanted to know why you question that I care about what matters to you.”
“Well,” I begin, thinking before I say something silly or foolish. “Truthfully, it’s hard to imagine that a man of your stature cares about such trivial things.”
His brows draw together, and his stern features harden. “Taara, those are hardly trivial things. They matter, more than you know.”
Just when I think I couldn’t love him more, he starts tearing away the wrappings of my heart until I’m helpless to stop him. I’m only human after all.
My heart does a little dance in my chest. He wants me to talk to him.
“So, tell me, Taara.”
“Okay, then. But you might not like what I tell you.”
“Try me.”
I draw in a shaky breath. “I am sad about losing my pictures.”
His brows furrow together and his lips thin. He doesn’t remember. “Pictures? What pictures?”
I sigh. “You told Rafael to destroy my phone, remember? I had…” I pause, my voice shaking. I swallow hard. “I had hundreds of pictures I’ve been taking for months on there. And they… they were important to me.”
My throat feels tight and my nose a little tingly when I remember the way Rafael ground his heel into my phone on Stefan’s command, like some overgrown playground bully.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “At the time…” his voice trails off.
“I know why you did it,” I whisper. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not still sad about it.”
It might seem to him that with all we face, I’m fixated on something trivial, but I’m not. This matters to me.
Nodding, he runs his hand over my head and down to my shoulders, then back again, as if trying to console me. And oddly, it does.
“Would you take more pictures if I got you what you needed?” he asks.
I swallow. “Of course.”
Hugging me to him, he gives me a quick kiss. “Good girl. Now tell me what else is on your mind.”
I think for a moment before I reply. “My mother,” I say without hesitation. “I was supposed to see her this weekend. But now that we’ll be in Russia, I won’t be able to.”
He nods. “That can be arranged, and soon.”
I push up and look at him curiously. It makes no sense to me how that’s possible if we’re going to Russia. “What? How?”
“We’ll talk of that later.”
“No, Stefan,” I begin, insistent on hearing what he has to say. “I want to know what you’re talking about.”
But he shakes his head, and his voice hardens. I know by now that when he looks like that, there’s no point in trying to convince him otherwise. “No.”
I sigh. He’s as immovable as a mountain.
I wonder if his reluctance to tell me what he’s planning has anything to do with the faraway look he had just a few minutes ago.
We speak easily for a little while. He asks about things that interest me and shows that he’s been paying attention when he mentions the foods I’ve cooked him, the books I’ve left lying around in the living room, and the classes I’ve taken. It’s so comfortable like this, in the warmth of the room, on his chest with the blanket pulled up over us, I yawn widely. We’ve been through so much, and I’m utterly exhausted.
“You need sleep, little one,” he says finally. “Let’s get you to bed.”
I’ve been a strong, independent woman for years now, but when he calls me little one, I actually feel little. I have to admit, I like it.
He helps me clean up and I climb between the sheets, still sore but blissfully content. Heaviness descends on me, and my eyelids suddenly feel too heavy to fight. I’m familiar with this feeling, but usually have a hard time falling asleep and if I do, staying asleep. But tonight, for the first time in years, I fall into a blissful, dreamless slumber.
I wake the next morning to dazzling light streaming in through the window, and a knock at the door. I blink in surprise. I never sleep until it’s light out. I look up to see Stefan standing by the door fully dressed. How long have I slept?
He opens the door and takes a silver tray from someone on the other side, says a few murmured words, then shuts the door with one hand while balancing the tray in the other. Turning to me, he smiles.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” he says.
“Morning. What time is it?” I ask on a yawn. “How long have I slept?”
“It’s nearly noon,” he says.
I sit up quickly. “I’ve slept half the day away!”
He chuckles. “You did, but something tells me you needed that.”
Sitting on the edge of the bed, he slides the tray on the table beside me. The smell of bacon makes my stomach rumble with hunger.
“Sit up, little one,” he says. I do, eager for some food, but when I reach for it, he shakes his head. “Let daddy do it.”
So that part wasn’t a dream, then. I bite my lip and nod, not sure how to respond. How do I feel about this? But when he puts a large forkful of eggs in front of my mouth and says, “open,” it’s easy enough. I take the bite between my lips and eat the eggs, then after I swallow, he follows it with a strip of bacon.
“Mmm,” I whisper. “This is delicious.”
“Good,” he says approvingly. “It should tide you over for a little while, anyway.”
He got up and showered and dressed, ordered food and everything. Wow. And I slept through it all.
After feeding me another bite of eggs, he continues. “We’ll dock in about an hour, and I want you well fed before the next leg of your journey.”
Your journey?
Wait. Why mine, and not “ours?”
It seems an odd choice of words, but I don’t question him as he feeds me a bite of toast, another strip of bacon, and a wedge of orange. I finally hold up my hand to indicate I’ve had enough, and he lays the fork down on the tray.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” I ask him.
He smiles, but for some reason the look in his eyes is distant. “I ate hours ago. And anyway, I want you to get ready before we dock, so let’s get moving.”
I throw the blanket off me and push to my feet, my body aching in reminder of what we did last night. All of it. Somehow in the bright light of day, I feel a little bashful about it, but he doesn’t seem troubled at all.
“Get ready,” he says, pointing to the bathroom. I do, and just as I finish, I hear Stefan call to me from the other room. “We’re here. Let’s go.”
I come into the room where he is, and he already has our bags packed and ready to go. He takes me silently by the hand, then to my surprise, pulls me to him and kisses me so fiercely, I gasp, falling back a little, but he catches me. His touch feels nearly desperate, his kiss hurried.
“What was that?” I whisper, giving him a curious look. “Stefan? Is everything alright?”
There’s a fire in his eyes and a firmness to his jaw that unsettles me. “Everything’s fine,” he assures me.
But I’m not so sure. I want to know that nothing has changed between us. That everything is still in place. “Tonight, we need to go to the wharf.” I tell him what I found out, and watch as his jaw tightens.
When he shakes his head and doesn’t meet my eyes, my stomach tightens. “I’ll be going to the wharf,” he says, busying himself with folding the blanket at the foot of the bed. “Tonight, you’re getting a plane back to Atlanta.”
I’m having trouble making my mouth work. “I—Stefan,” I whisper, then on a whim, “Daddy. What are you talking about?”
“Don’t do that, Taara,” he says, his back to me. “Don’t question me in this. It was hard enough to make this decision.”
But no. I’m not going to cave that easily. I didn’t work this hard and give up so much just to turn tail and run, leaving the rest of this battle for him to fight.
“What decision?” I say, unable to mask my anger. “To send me away from you?” I can’t keep the hurt out of my voice.
“I’m not sending you away from me,” he spits out. “And watch your tone of voice, Taara.” He shoots me a warning look over his shoulder that makes my pulse spike, but I don’t care. He has one hell of a nerve going all master on me after dropping a bomb like that. I don’t care if he takes his belt to me again or canes me or does whatever the hell he thinks he has to, to get me to obey him. I’m not agreeing to this. No way.
“Watch my tone of voice?” I repeat, my voice rising in pitch. “Are you kidding me?”
“You really want to push this envelope?” He turns to me and crosses his arms on his chest, and I swear for one minute, I almost lose my resolve. He can be scary. His deep voice rumbles, warning me. “Keep it up, little girl, and you know exactly where this will land you.”
“Stefan,” I plead. “You just told me that everything I’ve done was for no reason.”
“Don’t do that,” he says, and it might be my imagination, but I swear a tiny bit of his resolve begins to crumble. I push on.
“Do what? Speak the truth?”
“Taara,” he warns, taking a step toward me, but I hold up my hand and take a step backward. Not that there’s anywhere to go.
“No, Stefan. I’ve earned the right to speak the truth, haven’t I?”
With a sigh, he concedes, but when he stands in front of me with his arms crossed on his chest, looking so intimidating, I almost cave. It’s funny how quickly I forget how big and strong and muscular he is until he’s standing in front of me. I’ve seen full grown men quake in front of him, so I know it isn’t just in my head how scary he is. I take a deep breath, let it out slowly, then plead my case as best I can.
“You told me I had a chance to help the Afghani women,” I tell him. “And if you didn’t have me here with you, you wouldn’t have found out what I did about tonight, would you?”
He lets out a breath and opens his mouth, but before he can speak, I plow on. “After what we’ve been through, what we’ve done, what we’ve confessed to one another, I’m not backing down. And I don’t want to be separated from you,” I tell him. “It matters to me. It matters so much to me. I can’t even tell you.”
His stone-like features soften at that, and he takes another step toward me. He’s within arm’s reach now, and I want to let him hold me, tell him everything he means to me. I’ve confessed my deepest dreams and wishes to him, my biggest fears. I’ve come to him at my most vulnerable and survived to tell about it, so I can’t give up now. I won’t.
My throat feels scratchy, and my nose tingles.
“Please, daddy,” I whisper, and when I blink, a tear rolls down my cheek. “Don’t make me leave you.”
He gathers me to him and it’s messy, my hair is all tangled in his beard and I’m crying, my tears dampening his shirt. I’ve cried before with him, but that was different then. That was before he broke me open and folded me all back together again. That was before I believed he loved me.
“Taara,” he says brokenly. “I can’t put you in danger again. If anyone hurts you, I’ll have to kill them.” And when I hear those words, I know, the weight of the lives he’s taken anchors his heart and mind, and he’s loathe to go there again.
“Then protect me, Stefan,” I whisper. “I trust that you will. I know that you can.” It’s a lot that I ask, but I can’t turn away now, and appealing to his inner need to look after me is my only chance.
He holds me in silence for long minutes, our hearts beating in time and my tears streaming down my face, before he speaks.
“Prom
ise me you’ll do what I tell you,” he says, and I know then that he’s softening, that he’s considering my plea.
“I promise,” I tell him.
He holds me tighter. “I mean it, Taara. This is no game we play.”
I swallow hard. I’m willful and stubborn, but I can give this to him. I have to. So, I look up into his eyes and blink away my tears and give him nothing but the bald truth. “If you give me this chance, I promise you, Stefan. I will not let you down. I will trust you.” I go up on my tiptoes and brush my lips across his before I speak again. “I promise. You have my word.” I weave my fingers through his. “We’re a team now, you and I.” I use the last card I have, and I go out on a limb. “And do you really want to trust my protection to someone else?” I shoot him my most winsome smile, but this is the most important thing I’ve ever asked him. “This, from the man who insisted on feeding me breakfast by hand?”
“Chert poberi,” he curses.
“I promise, if I even think about disobeying you, you can flay me alive.”
“I fucking will.”
“You won’t have to, but I still promise.”
He laughs, and I breathe freely for a moment. “Please.”
Before he answers, he tangles his fingers in my hair, and closes his eyes as if steeling himself to do this. Then he captures my mouth and kisses me so hard it’s bruising and punishing, as if he’s warning me what I’m up against. My lips burn and tingle when he pulls away, his mouth just inches from mine.
“Alright,” he concedes. My heart sings with hope. “We’ll do this together. You and me. And I’ll hold you to everything you said, Taara.”
“I know you will.”
A knock comes on the door.
“Sir? Do you have luggage for us to take?”
“I’ve got it, thank you,” he says. He waits until the footsteps retreat before he slides his phone out of his pocket. Still holding me to him, our hearts still hammering together, he brings his phone to his ear.
“Nicolai,” he says with a sigh. “Cancel the flight. She’s coming with me.”
Chapter 13
Stefan
There’s no tenderness in my touch, no gentleness in my voice as we leave the ship. I take Taara by the hand and half drag her with me in grim determination. I can’t believe I’ve let her talk me into this, but at the same time, I’m relieved. I hate the idea of being apart from her. And if she’s with me, I can be the one to protect her, instead of trusting her to someone else.
