King's Ransom (Ruthless Doms 3)

“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.