12. Karolina
KAROLINA
“Ifeel weird sitting here while you cook dinner for me,” I say, shifting on the plush velvet bar stool at the kitchen island.
“I want to do it,” Brandon rebuts calmly. “I want to take care of you. Let me.”
“Who’s the bossy one now?”
He grins. “You. It’s always you.”
I flick my fingers in dismissal. “I might like it when you take control in the bedroom, but don’t pretend you aren’t highhanded with me. It drove me crazy when you were my professor.”
He chuckles. “Ah, yes. Your charming nickname for me. I remember.”
I manage to be flippant despite a touch of embarrassment. “You earned that nickname, Professor Asshole. Why were you such a dick to me at first?”
A shadow of pain flickers across his perfect features, and my stomach dips at the sight of it.
“You rejected me after the hunt,” he reminds me. “I don’t blame you for using your safe word, but I was hurt and frustrated. I could’ve been nicer during that first lecture. I let my emotions get the best of me.”
The reminder of his elaborate lies sours my appetite despite the delicious aromas filling the kitchen.
My mood dips lower when he insists, “I meant what I said about your MA. I truly don’t think you need a higher degree to write your books.”
I bristle. “See? You’re being highhanded right now. My studies are my decision. I’m pursing my own goals, and you have no idea how hard I’ve worked to get accepted into my program at University of York. You’re being dismissive, and it’s beyond annoying.”
“You’re talented,” he says, calmly turning his attention back to the oven. “You don’t have to prove that by getting an MA. I support your dreams. I’m simply saying that you already have the drive and skillset to be a successful author.”
I try to ignore the way my mouth waters when he pulls out the roast chicken and dauphinois potatoes.
I cross my arms over my chest. “You just want me to quit so that you won’t have to pose as my professor anymore. Did you even go to Notre Dame? How did you get the qualifications for your position in my department?”
He frowns and starts to plate our food. “I didn’t have to go to Notre Dame to gain the necessary knowledge. I was telling the truth when I said I’ve been studying the same subjects as you for the last four years.”
“So, you don’t have a PhD.”
He quirks a brow. “You don’t think I’m smart enough to be a professor?”
Our foster parents “homeschooled” us to keep us isolated from anyone who might note their abuse, but Brandon always excelled in his self-directed studies.
Our mutual love of reading and learning was one of the first things we bonded over when we were kids.
Escaping into books was the only way to survive in that hellish house.
We had each other. We endured together.
“I’ve always known you’re smart,” I assert. “I just don’t understand how you got a job as a professor without the necessary qualifications.”
He carries our plates to the dining table and gestures for me to join him.
“I bought the identity I needed to be your professor, just like you bought the name Lena Williams,” he explains. “I made sure Rand Hirst had the qualifications I needed.”
I shake my head. “You really are crazy.”
It’s almost unfathomable that he’s gone to such lengths to be here with me.
It shouldn’t make warmth pulse at the center of my chest; I should still be horrified.
But after our intense sex in the shower, I can’t deny that I crave his nearness. I spent so long mourning him. The fact that he’s with me now is a balm to my ravaged soul.
I pull out the chair beside him, but before I can sit down, he tugs me towards him. He gently grasps my hips and arranges my body so that I’m seated on his lap.
I squirm. “Hey!”
He tugs my hair in reprimand. The slight flare of pain on my scalp harnesses my full attention, and I stop struggling.
“I’m going to take care of you,” he insists, voice going deep and soothing. “You’ve been alone for a long time. You don’t have to be alone anymore. I’ve got you now.”
A shiver races over my skin, a disconcertingly pleasurable reaction. His possessiveness doesn’t elicit so much as a flicker of fear.
Maybe I’m the one who’s insane.
“You could’ve been with me,” I say quietly. “I can’t take back what happened in the stables that night, but I never wanted to lose you. It’s been…” I breathe through the tightness in my chest. “Hard.”
He tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear.
“That’s why I got in touch with you as Bones.
It was the only way I could think to be with you until I could fix my face.
I needed to have the means to support you in the way you deserve.
” He eyes me warily when he admits, “This estate is for you. The house in York is for you. Everything I have is yours.”
Something occurs to me; there have been so many layers of deception that it’s taking time for me to sort through all of them.
“How did you find me as Bones?” I challenge. “I had my new identity as Lena by then. You reached out to me as though you were a stranger in the chat room on the Eroticlit website, but you knew exactly who I was. Explain.”
His eyes are guarded. “I told you I have a friend who’s good with tech.”
He doesn’t elaborate.
“So, what? You asked your friend to track me down? I even had an anonymous username on that site. Well, I thought it was anonymous. How deep did he have to dig to find that information?”
“I don’t know how Ghost does what he does. I just gave him your name and asked him to find you. It took months, but eventually he figured out your new identity and the fact that you’d enrolled at UNC. Once he had that information, I don’t think it was difficult to trace your online activities.”
My stomach lurches. “You let you friend look me up through the erotica I like to read? How much does he know about our conversations when you were posing as Bones? Was he listening in on our calls all this time?”
He cups my nape, trapping me close before I can recoil. “Never. He’d be dead by now if he’d tried. I would never share you like that, Karolina. I want all of you, all for myself. It’s selfish and probably unhealthy, but I don’t care. All I care about is being with you.”
My heart swells so rapidly that it presses painfully against the confines of my ribcage.
“Does that scare you?” he asks.
I take a moment to consider.
“Yes,” I answer honestly. “This is…a lot.”
A frown ghosts around his mouth. “I’ll earn your trust back.”
He says it like it’s inevitable, like there’s no other option.
“I’ll make sure you’re comfortable here. It’s the safest place for you now.”
It’s my turn to frown. I rub the spot where my neck meets my shoulder, feeling the small bump of the tracker.
“I know you’ll protect me, but I don’t like what you did,” I assert. “Take this thing out of me.”
“No.”
My brows lift.
“No?” I repeat. “This is beyond highhanded. This is outright controlling. You can’t just tag me like I’m your property.”
He traces the line of my scowl with his thumb. “If you want me to say that you’re not mine, you’ll be waiting a lifetime. But I don’t think of you as my property,” he adds quickly, before I succumb to a burst of righteous anger. “I’ve already said this is about your safety.”
I narrow my eyes at him, far from placated. “That man who threatened me at Brownie Bakehouse knew you’re Brandon, didn’t he? He’s connected to you somehow. And my stalker. Did he know who you are, too? Stop keeping secrets from me. I want the whole truth.”
“Eat, and I’ll tell you.”
He picks up a piece of chicken and lifts it to my lips like he’s going to feed me by hand.
“If you don’t want to get bitten, I suggest you reconsider,” I advise. “Answers first.”
I won’t allow him to distract me with tender care and this weirdly possessive behavior that makes the weakest parts of me melt.
It would be so easy to let him take care of me, to lean into his strength. I’ve been relying solely on myself for so long. I’m exhausted and sick of being alone.
He presses his lips together in disapproval, but he lowers the food before I can follow through on my threat.
“Fine,” he allows. “Yes, both of those men knew who I am. They know me from when I killed to survive. I made a lot of enemies. I don’t know if they’re working together, and I don’t know if more of them are coming.
All I know is they’re targeting you because you’re all I care about.
I won’t allow them to breathe the same air as you. ”
A chill races through my veins, dousing the heat of my anger. “You have enemies?”
It’s mindboggling. Like something out of a novel.
Only a few days ago, I never would’ve imagined that my sexy professor had mortal enemies; the most I was worried about was our clandestine affair being discovered. Now, my life is on the line.
Brandon’s face is drawn with regret. “You’re in danger because of me. But it’s too late for me to leave you alone. They know I’ll do anything for you. You’ll never be safe until I eliminate the threats.”
His features firm with determination. “I can’t take the tracker out. If we’re separated, I have to be able to find you.”
I want to snap at him that I don’t care; I don’t want this thing inside me, monitoring my every move.
But if what he’s saying is true, then it would be stupid of me to remove it.
I remember how my stalker held a knife to my throat.
And that man at the café said he’d hurt me if we met again.
“You will remove it once this is all over, and I’m safe,” I decree.
His eyes flash with relief. I guess he expected more of a fight.
I huff. “I’m independent, but I’m not an idiot.
Those men scared me. I’ll stay with you until we figure this out, and I’ll keep this…
thing inside me until the danger has passed.
But I want to be clear that I don’t like it.
And I’m still pissed that you drugged me so you could inject me with it when I was unconscious.
We are going to have some serious talks about boundaries and respect going forward. ”
“I’ll never tire of hearing your voice, even if you are berating me.” He grins, and he’s so gorgeous in his maniacal joy that it takes my breath away.
This should scare me, but it’s Brandon.
We’re bound by shared trauma and forbidden love that’s endured years of separation. Even his death didn’t stop me loving him.
It’s too soon for me to say it. There’s still so much more for me to learn about his life over the last five years when he was hiding himself from me.
I’m not ready to forgive him for that, even if I don’t hate him for it.
I could never hate him.
I blink and break from his intense blue gaze, eyeing the meal he prepared for us instead. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”
“I taught myself.”
I can’t suppress a small smile. “You’ve always been good at educating yourself. I just didn’t know that extended to culinary arts.”
“I wanted to learn for you.”
The swell of emotion in my chest is almost overwhelming.
He learned to cook because he wants to take care of me. He fought in the ring so he could earn the money to buy a house for me. He killed my stalker to save my life.
It’s all for me.
And all I ever gave him was a gunshot to the face.
He brushes the crease in my brow. “What’s wrong?”
“You keep saying you’re not worthy of me, but I’ve done nothing to deserve this devotion.” I force the words through my constricted throat. “I left you for dead.”
And that’s the deepest truth of why I can’t accept his obsessive love for me: I will never be able to atone for what I did to him.
“I survived,” he reassures me. “I’m right here.”
He takes my hand and places it on his chest. His heartbeat is strong and steady beneath my palm.
“I don’t blame you for anything that happened,” he promises. “You are worthy of love, Karolina. More so than anyone I’ve ever known. You’re kind and fierce and brilliant. How could I not love you?”
Wet heat spills down my cheeks, and he kisses my tears away.
“I know it’s a lot to process,” he murmurs. “It’s been a long day. You need to eat. Please.”
I sniffle and wipe my eyes. “You made me this beautiful meal, and it’s getting cold. I don’t want to ruin it.”
“You could never ruin anything.”
The answering pang in my heart threatens to draw a soft sob from my chest, but I quickly draw a deep breath to quell my most tumultuous feelings.
I relax against him, completely worn out from the rollercoaster of emotions. Ever since I woke up from my drugged sleep in his arms this afternoon, I’ve cycled through terror, rage, disbelief, grief, and hope.
All I want now is to be with him.
There will be time for more questions tomorrow. We have years of secrets to share.
He pulls me closer, and I allow him to feed me the delicious dinner he prepared for us. It’s quietly intimate and so sweet that my eyes sting at the corners.
I focus on his steady blue gaze.
I never want to lose sight of Brandon ever again.