“Easy there,” I whispered into the top of her hair.
When she’d seen me prowling up behind Walt and Clare while they’d been fighting in the driveway, she’d sprinted to me. That alone validated every repercussion I’d face with the DEA for having passed Roman information about the Noir family.
In a lot of ways, I was just as selfish as Walter when it came to Clare. I wanted her as my own. But I’d never hurt her—hurt them. My heart had crossed the line as far as she was concerned, but I wouldn’t allow my body or my mind to follow suit.
She’d had too much taken from her already—physically and emotionally.
If I’d made any kind of move on her while she was at her weakest, that’s exactly what I’d have been doing—taking.
For Clare, I’d give.
I’d pack it all down. Make sure she got out of this alive and without any more scars than she’d already acquired. And then I’d walk away so she could find a better life. One where she smiled every day and graced the world with the masterpiece that was her laughter.
“Where’s Mama?” Tessa asked, dropping her head to my shoulder, her little arms circling around my neck.
By God, it was going to hurt like hell to let them go.
I smoothed her unruly curls down. “Let’s go find her, sweet girl.”
I’d been trying to get in touch with Roman for over an hour. He was late. Though it was the first time he’d been back to the office since we’d rekindled our relationship. So my idea of late might not have been his. It was creeping on eight, and the dinner I’d made was getting cold for the third time. I was about to give up rewarming it.
“Alex,” I called to the bodyguard who had been assigned to me after one of Noir’s men had broken into our house.
We still hadn’t been back to that place, but after a massive shopping spree, my old Victorian was starting to feel like a home. I’d been making a list of things I needed to retrieve from the old house, and Roman had been sending Devon, our other bodyguard, over to pick them up. I’m sure it was a pain in the ass, and I’d decided earlier that afternoon, when I’d had to strain spaghetti with a dishtowel, that we just needed to make the decision to move once and for all.
I’d had no intentions of ever leaving our old house. We’d made so many memories there. But maybe a fresh start was exactly what we needed.
Roman had only proposed the day before, but I suspected he’d have me at the courthouse as soon as it opened back up after the Thanksgiving holiday.
Same man.
New life together.
Maybe a new house wouldn’t hurt, either.
“Yeah, Elisabeth,” Alex answered, peeking his head out from the closed-off dining room that had been converted into the security room. He had a phone to his ear, but it was angled away from his mouth, which let me know I had his full attention.
“You want some chicken parmesan?” I asked, tipping my head at the pot on the stove. “I mean…I use alfredo sauce, so it’s really just breaded chicken with white sauce and parmesan. But same thing.”
Alex never refused a meal. Both guys ate a lot, but Alex was a machine. I’d never seen a human capable of downing that much food in one sitting and then, an hour later, come back for an equally impressive second serving. But I guessed, when you were six six and wore a suit of rock-hard muscles, you had to find fuel somewhere.
“I’m good. Thanks though,” he said, quickly closing the door.
“Well, okay, then,” I mumbled to myself and bent to the bottom cabinet to grab a stack of Tupperware.
He’d eat it eventually. Either that or four chickens had sacrificed their breasts for nothing.
As I got the food situated, I struggled to keep my head straight and tell myself Roman wasn’t throwing himself back into the office twenty-four-seven the way he had before we’d divorced.
This was different.
Or so I chanted as I tidied the kitchen up and got ready to spend the rest of the night on the couch—alone, with a book. The familiarity settled heavily in my stomach.
“Elisabeth?” Alex said, emerging from his room a little while later.
I couldn’t pinpoint it, but there was something in his tone that set me on alert.
My heart sped as he closed the distance between us. Squatting in front of me on the couch, he extended his phone my way.
I braced, not wanting to take it, and the wariness in his eyes told me he was bracing, too.
“It’s Roman,” he said softly.
A rush hit me, and I snatched the phone from his hand and lifted it to my ear. “Are you okay?”
“Lis,” he breathed. It was a single syllable, but a palpable mixture of relief and anxiety poured through the phone.
“What’s going on?” I asked, pushing to my feet, Alex following me up.
“Everything’s fine. Calm down, baby.”
“Then why are you calling me on Alex’s phone? And why do you sound like you’re about to drop some seriously bad news?”