Vicious Protector by Maggie Cole

13

Adrian

Nothing worksto stop my mind from spinning. Skylar's inability to trust me mixes with everything I feel toward Dasha. It creates a bigger web than I anticipate, and all night, it's as if spiders are crawling under my skin.

Everything about Dasha reminds me I used to be a different man. I assume the man she married, the one she wanted, is the same man who would have made Skylar happy. If I could find a way to take the scarring secrets that at one point didn't exist in my life, and tell Skylar about them, I would.

I can't. Not only would it put her in danger, but she'd also never be able to look at me again.

I try not to think about how life was before I changed, or how Dasha could barely tolerate looking at me when I first told her who I had become. The same hunger I see in Skylar's eyes used to be in Dasha's. Then everything changed. Every ounce of affection Dasha had for me was lost. It was another cruel slap in the face. My baby sister was dead. Pieces of my mother, Obrecht, and me were destroyed. There was no way to put us back together, and the only option was to become someone new.

It's taken years to figure out the parts of me I still value. I've spent too many hours coming to terms with the skills I possess and rationalizing how what I do may morally be wrong, but is the only choice I have to rid the world of more sorrow.

Skylar deserves no part of my demonized reality. I've compartmentalized my life over the years. I'm finally at the point where I'm confident I can keep my two universes separate. And I'll do everything to protect them so I never have to see the light in Skylar's eyes dim the way I caused it to in Dasha's.

If she doesn't trust me, it'll never work.

We're good together.

Jesus, so fucking good.

Why did I leave her and not try harder to convince her?

I pace most of the night, inside and on the balcony. I can hardly look at my bed. The rumpled sheets still smell like her. Visions of her all over my place haunt me. Her laugh and voice crying out my name feel like a scab being ripped open.

The next day, her new lock arrives. Since I'm still spinning out, my decision comes fast and without any analysis about whether it's the right move or not.

I go to her apartment and pick her lock again. A panic-filled annoyance claws at my chest. I don't like that Skylar doesn't have security. All guests have to do is push the buzzer until someone lets them. It's a busy building, so my guess is it never is long between tenants and guests coming and going, eliminating the need to even use the buzzer. Anyone could have broken in. I push the thoughts of Natalia that creep into my mind away and focus on the door.

The commercial lock I bought also has double dead bolts. I use my drill and add the second hole. I'm cleaning up the sawdust when Skylar walks in.

"Adrian," she says in surprise.

Her voice makes the hairs on my neck rise. My blood pumps harder. Her navy shift dress hits mid-thigh, showcasing her silky skin. Each of her pouty lips appear fuller, making my pants feel tighter. Her contoured cheekbones are perfection, showcased by her sleek ponytail. More stunning than anything are her eyes. And the thing that worried me the most, that fear I had lost her and she was at the point where she doesn't want me anymore, doesn't exist. All I see is the way she's staring at me. Hope swirls with the same look she's always given me. A part of her still wants me. She's not at the quitting point yet.

I can still save us.

Still, I proceed with caution. "Hi."

"What are you doing here?" It's soft and non-accusing.

I dump the sawdust in the garbage then put the broom and dustpan away. We both step toward the other. "I changed the locks." I hold the two keys out to her.

She glances at them. "Are you able to pick the new locks?"

"Yes. They aren't a guarantee against anyone getting in, but it's the best you can have on these doors." The sweet scent of salted caramel and pears drifts to my nose, and I groan inside.

She drags her finger over my palm and picks up one key, holding it in front of my face. "So you don't need this to get in?"

"No."

Her brows furrow. "But it's easier if you have the key, right?"

"Yes."

"Is it safe to say you might try to break in again?" She bites on her lip and steps closer.

I stay silent with my heart hammering in my chest. I've already crossed the line by picking her lock twice. My actions are on the verge of stalker psychotic, but this is the problem when I spin out. I don't think rationally. I allow my emotions to lead me. It usually takes the form of things that could land me in jail. But I won't lie and can't guarantee her I won't ever do it again if I feel the need.

She tightly smiles. "Thank you for switching my locks. I didn't realize there was a problem."

Instinct takes over. I reach up and cup her cheek while stroking my thumb across her jaw. "I'd feel better if you had real security in your lobby."

She smirks. "Well, I don't." She puts the key on the counter and closes my fist over the spare. "Maybe it's safer if you have this one and don't pick my locks anymore."

The air becomes thicker. "What does this mean, my printsessa?"

She opens her mouth and scrunches her face. Her cheeks redden. She closes her mouth and stares at me.

I drag my finger over her lips. "I'm not into games."

"I-I don't want to be made into a fool, Adrian."

"You aren't. I wouldn't do that to you."

"I'm not normally a jealous person, but..." She looks away.

I turn her chin to me. "But what?"

"I hate she's trying to get you back, and you have a history together."

"The thing about history is it's in the past. It isn't the future."

"She's made it clear she doesn't want it to be in the past."

I nod. There isn't any point denying it. "You're right. But there's always an ulterior motive for Dasha. It's why she's in my phone as Snake. So I'm going to tell you this again, and I need you to believe me."

Skylar takes a deep breath. "Okay."

I lean down to her lips. "I don't want her. I want you. Whatever she has up her sleeve will eventually come out. When it does, there still isn't going to be any part of me that wants her."

"Okay."

Relief fills me, but Dasha is only part of our problems. I hold her face closer to mine. "What about my work? You understand I can't talk about it, and there are going to be times I need to leave?"

Her eyes widen. "Are you involved in something bad, Adrian?"

I grind my molars but don't break our gaze. I fill my lungs with air. "Bad is subjective. But I would have to answer yes since I don't want you subjected to any part of it. If we're going to be together, you need to be okay not knowing details of my work."

A line forms between her eyebrows. She bites on her lip.

Shit. I'm losing her.

There's no other way. She won't want me if she knows.

"My printsessa—"

"Okay. I will deal with not knowing."

I freeze. "You will?"

She nods and puts her hands behind my head. "I-I missed you. A lot."

Happiness curls in my chest. "I missed you, too."

She lightly drags her nails over my neck. "What are you doing tonight?"

"Noth—" My mother's face pops into my mind. I forgot. I quietly mumble, "Crap."

"What's wrong?"

If I take her, my mother is going to have a field day with fifty thousand questions.

If I don't take her, I don't get to spend time with her tonight.

"Adrian?"

"How much do you like mothers?"

She smiles. "I have a mother whom I love very much. Why do you ask?"

My heart races. I've not had anyone meet my mother since my divorce. "I have dinner with Obrecht and my mom tonight. Do you want to be put under the microscope and get barraged with questions while eating whatever Russian meal my mom's cooked?"

Her grin fills her face. "You make it sound so exciting."

I shrug. "Just being honest."

"Hmmm."

My gut flips. "Is that a no hmmm or a yes hmmm?"

She brings her lips to mine. "Is dessert at your mom's or your place?"

I slide my hands over her ass and palm her cheeks. "Both. If you don't eat my mother's medovik, her feelings will be hurt."

She softly laughs. "What is medovik?"

"You'll see." I kiss her, unable to stare any longer at her sinful lips. The moment we connect, fire burns in my veins, mixing with sweet relief. My printsessa is once again mine. I order, "Pack a bag."

She doesn't let go of me. "What should I wear?"

"To my mother's or my house?"

She puts her finger on her chin and pretends to think. "Let's start with your mother's."

I glance at my attire. "This is what I'm wearing. Put on something comfortable."

"How much time do we have before we need to leave?"

I glance at my watch and groan. "If we're going to be on time, ten minutes. If we're late, I'll hear about it from my mother all night."

Her eyes widen. "I guess I better hurry, then."

"One other thing."

"What's that?"

"My mother has a really thick accent. If you don't understand what she's saying, just let me know. She tries, but a lot of Americans have a hard time understanding her."

"That must be challenging for her."

I shrug. "She's used to it."

A kind smile fills my printsessa's face. "Maybe you should teach me a few words on the way over so I can say the basics."

I raise an amused eyebrow. "You want to learn Russian?"

"Is it hard?"

"Some people think so. Dmitri's wife, Anna, caught on quickly."

"Good. You can teach me some words on the way to dinner. I need to get ready. I'll be right back." She starts to walk away, but I pull her back into me.

I kiss her, fucking her with my tongue like I'm starving and haven't eaten in days. When I finally pull away, she breathlessly asks, "What was that for?"

"In case you forgot how good we are together."

She beams. "Maybe you should show me again?"

I shake my head. "Nope. Go pack."

"Aye, aye, sir." She leaves the room.

I text Obrecht.

Me: Are you with Mom already?

Obrecht: Yes. Please tell me you aren't going to be late. I'm dying over here. I need Mom to focus on someone besides me.

Me: I'll be there soon. Can you do me a favor?

Obrecht: What?

Me: I'm bringing Skylar. Can you tell Mom to go easy?

Obrecht: Is this a joke, or are you really bringing her?

Me: No joke. She'll be with me.

Obrecht: Brave man.

Me: Not funny.

Obrecht: Who said anything about funny? But maybe she'll put all her energy into you now.

I groan.

Me: Are you going to help me?

Obrecht: I'll see what I can do, but you know Mom.

Me: That's what I'm afraid of.

Obrecht: So don't bring her. Kind of early for that anyway, isn't it?

Me: Just talk to Mom. Please.

Obrecht: On it, but it's your funeral, little brother.

"Ready?" Skylar says, coming into the room. She's wearing skinny jeans, an off-the-shoulder fitted sweater, and ankle boots.

This woman can wear anything.

"You look hot, my sexy little printsessa." I take her bag. "Come on. Let's get this over with."

She scoffs. "Don't sound so excited."

"Sorry. I don't bring women home. I apologize for my mother ahead of time."

She freezes and tilts her head. "Never?"

"No."

"So...what's your mom going to do?"

I shake my head. "No idea, but if she gets any wedding magazines out, don't be surprised."

Skylar's face blushes. "Really?"

I sigh. "I hope not, but she did it to Obrecht's date once."

Skylar bites on her smile but a laugh escapes. She puts her hand over her mouth. "Thanks for the warning."

What am I thinking, taking her with me?

I kiss her again then murmur, "Promise me something."

"What?"

"Don't hold my mother against me."

She snickers. "Promise."

I exhale and hand Skylar her key so she doesn't forget it. I put her spare in my pocket. I place my hand on her back and guide her out of the building. All I can think about is my mom and her bridal magazines. I tug Skylar closer to me and kiss her on the head before stepping out into the fresh air.

As I start the engine of my SUV, my nerves dance in my stomach. I can only hope Obrecht convinced my mom to be on her best behavior.