CHAPTER NINE
ONCE LEANDERWASSATISFIED that the security precautions in her work building were top-notch, he left her there for the day which helped settle her nerves. Work was Ilona’s safe place. Her happy place. Here she made things that helped people and was liked and successful and valued.
Before she knew it, the day was gone and Leander had returned for her, which surprised her.
“You didn’t have to come. I have bodyguards.” They’d been relegated to following in her car behind them since Leander had escorted her into his own. “I was planning to work late and get ahead on a few things before the wedding.” Mostly she had wanted to put off facing him again along with all the changes that were happening so fast. Before last night, she had been counting on these final days of singlehood to come to terms with everything.
“I want to start dating,” he said.
“Other people?” She was floored.
“Each other,” he clarified dryly, mouth twitching.
“Oh.” Her cheeks abruptly stung with a blush, as though she was an adolescent and he was the first boy to ask her to dance. “Why? We’re already engaged. Living together.” Kind of. Her things were being boxed from her apartment in preparation for their moving into the home they would share after their honeymoon. “I have a ton of things to do.” She was restructuring at work and had fittings and decor decisions, not to mention signing her statement with the police and finishing up negotiations on their prenuptial contract.
“We need to get to know one another better.”
In what way? Spend the night on his yacht sort of way?
The heat in her cheeks intensified.
Things had changed so much since that interlude at their engagement party. She’d been embarrassed by her response that night, then conflicted over Leander wanting to discuss children.
She still had huge reservations about making a baby with someone she didn’t love, but she wanted a family. And she was so tired of being afraid to go after what she wanted. She was tired of trying to live up to impossible expectations set by people who didn’t care about her.
Agreeing to marry Leander had been an act of defiance, one where she had finally seized control of her own life. Deciding her future, choosing what happened to her body and whether she had a family, should be her choice, too, not something dictated by whether Midas and Odessa would approve.
Since last night’s attack, she had been considering more about that. She kept thinking that having a baby would be more than a rejection of Midas’s control over her. It would be a defiance against her own mortality. Life was fragile and temporary. She had to get on with living the one she’d been given.
And there was that other, secretive defiance within her, the one where she felt things. Where she had discovered a sensuality she hadn’t known she was capable of experiencing. Did she want to spend the next three years ignoring that? Then explore it with someone else?
Or did she want Leander to show her everything her body could feel?
“That wasn’t a euphemism.” Leander briefly squeezed her fingers where her hand rested on the seat between them, sending a zing up her arm and into her chest.
“Pardon?”
“I realize Midas has made it hard for you to trust any man. I’m not referring to sex. We need to know we can count on each other. That means spending time together. We need to be honest and work through any fears or disagreements we might have.”
“You’re afraid of me?” she asked skeptically.
“I’m afraid for you,” he said gravely. “I’m bothered that you’re afraid of me.”
Was she? Not in the way he meant. She’d been sedated last night and even though he had shared the bed, the most intrusive thing he’d done was tell her to go back to sleep. She had awakened surprised, but not frightened.
Which was strange. The idea of sleeping next to someone had never appealed. Sleep was a very vulnerable state. She’d been taught that every weakness could be exploited, but waking next to Leander had been almost reassuring.
It was something she could easily get used to. Which was disturbing.
“I’m not afraid of you. I’m afraid to trust you,” she clarified haltingly. “Finding my way to being as self-reliant as I am was hard. I try not to count on anyone. That way they can’t disappoint you.”
“I’m not like him. I don’t lie or go back on promises. I say what I mean and mean what I say. I will draw the line at murder in cold blood—reluctantly,” he pronounced with disdain. “But Midas will pay for all he’s done, Ilona. To you and to me. He’ll pay until he has absolutely nothing left. I swear that to you.”
A bitter wind passed over her heart, making her shiver inside.
He meant it. She felt it. For the first time she believed in him. Unequivocally. He wouldn’t stop until Midas was on his knees.
That ought to be satisfying, but she was disturbed by his vow. She was, paradoxically, afraid for him. She was afraid of what he would lose along the way. Midas would make sure Leander didn’t come away unscathed. More concerning, Midas had a way of causing a person to twist themselves in ugly ways. Look at Hercules, deeply unhappy, never standing up for his own principles and often dispatched to do Midas’s dirty work. Perpetually miserable.