Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 38942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
I run to him without a word, and his arms close around me like chains that I never want to escape from.
"Missed me?"
"So much." My voice is muffled against his chest.
"Toole says you were worried about me."
I can only nod this time. Because I'm crying, and I have no idea why.
He tips my chin up just as a flash of lightning illuminates the greenhouse, and his gaze narrows. "Why the tears?"
It's only when he asks that I realize the truth.
I love you.
But the thought of saying it terrifies me. And so the only thing I can do is wrap my arms around his neck as I stand on my toes so I can cover his mouth with mine.
My husband doesn't need another invitation, the swiftness of his response causing me to gasp as I suddenly find myself holding on to a rack, bent from the waist down, and my husband positioned behind me.
He slams into me so hard that an involuntary cry spills past my lips.
And then he slams even harder into me with his next thrust that I start seeing stars.
His lovemaking is just like the storm raging outside the greenhouse. Wild. Furious. Uncontrollable.
And I can't get enough of it.
And when we come at the same time—-
It's even more intoxicating.
But what truly destroys me is when he slowly pulls out...so he can turn me to face him.
Aaaah.
My back slides up against the wall as he thrusts back into me, my legs wrapping around his waist as I hold on to his broad shoulders for dear life.
Our eyes meet.
Oh, Gabriele.
And that's when I see it.
I love you, too.
His gaze locks with mine as he pounds into me. And every thrust, he says the words with his heart again and again.
I love you.
A whimper escapes me even as my tears run faster down my cheeks.
I love you.
Everything about this feels like a dream. But it's not. And it couldn't get any more real than the feel of my husband spilling his seed inside of me for the second time.
Gabriele loves me. Life can't get any more perfect than this. And it's true.
But it can get worse.
And it does.
Because there are still people who want me dead.
Chapter Nine
GABRIELE
"SECURITY BREACH AT the eastern perimeter."
Toole's voice through the secure line is calm, professional, but I hear the tension beneath it. Three weeks since our last incident—longer than expected. Valentina has been patient, calculated. Which means whatever's happening now is serious.
"Details," I respond, already moving toward my office, mind shifting into the cold focus of combat readiness.
"Two vehicles. Professional team. They've disabled the outer sensors but triggered the secondary system."
"Numbers?"
"At least six. Armed. Moving with purpose toward the main house."
Not surveillance then. Not testing. An actual incursion.
"Let's go on full lockdown. I want Kleah in the safe room immediately."
"Already initiated." Toole's efficiency is why I hired him. "Extraction team is twenty minutes out."
Too long. If they've breached the perimeter with this level of coordination, we need to move now.
"Negative on extraction. We secure in place." I've reached my office, entering the code that opens the hidden armory. "I'll take point on Kleah's protection. Focus on containment."
"Understood."
I end the call, selecting weapons with practiced efficiency. Handgun with silencer, backup in ankle holster, ceramic blade at my belt. Non-lethal options as well—I prefer to interrogate rather than kill when possible.
My mind catalogs facts, assesses options, maps contingencies with mechanical precision. This is the world I inhabited for years, the mindset that kept me alive through situations where most would have perished. Cold. Calculated. Ruthless when necessary.
But beneath it all, a new concern burns—Kleah. Her safety, her fear, what this intrusion might do to the peace we've carefully built together these past weeks.
I move through the house with silent efficiency, security alerts flashing on my watch—intruders closing in, security team engaging, house systems locking down. I need to reach Kleah, get her to the main safe room where we can wait out the attack if necessary.
I find her in the kitchen, already moving toward the hidden entrance to the safe room, fear evident in her expression but controlled, focused. She's learned well these past months.
"This is it, isn't it? What we've been preparing for?"
"Yes." No point softening the reality. "We need to get to the safe room. Now."
My wife falls into step beside me without hesitation or panic. The training we've done showing in her composed demeanor, her focused movements.
"Your security team?" she asks as we move swiftly through the house.
"Engaging. Extraction team en route." I keep my voice calm, factual, though my hand at the small of her back is perhaps more protective than necessary. "We'll secure in the safe room until the situation is contained."
We reach the hidden entrance to the main safe room—a space designed to withstand virtually any attack, with independent power, air filtration, communication systems, and supplies for days if needed. The biometric lock responds to my palm, the reinforced door sliding open with a soft hiss.