Burned Hearts (Burned 3)

“This is all I want,” he told me. “You. Our baby. Our family.”

“I know.” But we were currently victims of circumstance. I tried not to think of that. Instead, simply basked in the way I’d connected with this man from that first electrifying moment when our gazes had met and I’d been instantly caught up in his raw intensity, the dark beauty of him.

He’d turned out to be so much more than I’d expected. A fiercely protective husband who would give us an heir to everything that Dane stood for—everything we now stood for.

Feeling somewhat swept away, I said, “It’d be okay if we never left the bedroom.”

He chuckled. “Careful there, sweetheart. After all this is over, I might not let you leave.”

My smile widened. It was an alluring sentiment. Still … “I suppose we’d have to eat from time to time.”

“Maybe Rosa will agree to room service.”

“Not a chance in hell,” I scoffed. The efficient woman who’d basically run our home while Dane and I had been 24-7 Lux pre-launch preparations was not about waiting on anyone hand and foot. Fine by all of us, particularly since Kyle and I liked to do the cooking. But that pretty much meant no holing up in our suite for Dane and me.

Darn.

He eventually withdrew from me and slipped out of bed to tidy up in the bathroom. I, of course, admired the view. As he walked away and when he returned, strutting toward me. I sighed dreamily. My heart fluttered. My stomach felt as though butterflies had taken flight.

He gave me a sexy grin. “You can devour me with a look.”

“And my mouth.”

“Yes,” he added with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he climbed in next to me. “That talented tongue of yours knows a few tricks of its own.”

“My body parts are quite partial to yours. What can I say?” I snuggled close to my husband, his arms around me, my head on his

. I absently trailed a fingertip over one of his scars, the constant reminder of the devastation at the Lux and how it’d significantly altered our lives.

I let out a long breath, hoping to expel the anxiety that instantly besieged me when I thought of all we’d been through and all that still needed to be done.

“Someday, we’ll get our honeymoon, right?” I asked.

“I promise.”

I was quiet for a few moments, a little lost in thought. Mostly lost in how wonderful it was to be in his loving, reassuring embrace and to be able to touch him. Even just hearing his steady breathing warmed and comforted me.

Eventually, I said, “I don’t even know where you go or what you do when you’re with the FBI.”

“It’s not just the FBI. This is a global problem the society sparked by using my intellectual property for their personal gain. The Feds are labeling it conspiracy, terrorism, and attempted murder if they can prove these assholes were behind the destruction of my hotel. There were forty people inside when the timer on that bomb started ticking.”

I knew most of this, yet my head popped up and I stared at him, not missing the fury and the agony in his voice. The bunching of his muscles all around me.

Dane gently eased me back into his arms, though his hand stroked my hair. “Ari, sweetheart. The only reason I’m away from you and our son is because I already know the impact these people can have on the worldwide economy. I don’t want anyone to suffer again. Not like in ’08. Jesus. All those lost jobs, all that despair. There were suicides because of financial strains and destitution. Retirements imploded. Foreclosures forced bankruptcy and homelessness. Families—children—went hungry. And there are so many still trying to recover from that.”

I understood this wasn’t just about Dane and the loss of the Lux. His dream. The poli-econ society he’d secretly been a part of had possessed the ability to effect positive change—that had been the goal for generations. Unfortunately, with the sort of intel they’d collected and dissected it was also possible to incite financial ruin, because some members’ greed overrode their good sense and intentions.

He said, “The society put extensive effort into keeping disaster from striking again. But all that information—all the tracking, trending, analysis, forecasting…” He let out a strangled sound that was full of agitation … and torment. “In the wrong hands, it starts the vicious cycle of economic downturn and the struggle for recovery all over. To the benefit of those who are pulling the strings.”

I’d always found the concept of “Billionaires’ Clubs” difficult to wrap my mind around. A conglomeration of the elite could throw hundreds of millions of dollars at someone in the position of political power and influence in order to advance personal agendas. Not those designed for the greater good but for individual gain.

Dane had once said money was like a drug for some. It was an addiction only sated by building bigger empires, amassing more and more wealth—and, again, gaining power and using it to one’s advantage.

His purpose within the society had never been self-serving. What Dane and the legit members of the Illuminati bloc had attempted to do was maintain a sound economic environment. There would always be an ebb and flow, but a dramatic downward swing could spiral out of control. As we’d all experienced not too long ago.

Frankly, I never wanted to see people in such dire straits again. Nor did Dane. Hence the reason the generational society had dissolved. Now it was just Dane, Ethan Evans, Sultan Qadir Hakim, and Nikolai Vasil who attempted to right the wrongs.

Something I admired greatly. Even if it did mean my husband was mostly sequestered and rarely lying next to me.