Chapter 15
Roxy
“Roxy, are you sure?” Luna’s voice snaps me back to the present though my gaze is still locked on the garden behind Roman’s house.
When I turn to face her, I see the confusion etched across her features. With Yuri still in the hospital, I haven’t had a chance to explain anything.
I look at my best friend, and she has a special kind of glow about her, the kind that comes from being loved by the right man. You only have to see the way Roman looks at her, as if she's the only oxygen he needs to breathe, to know he adores her.
A lump forms in my throat because I wish I could feel that kind of devotion.
A small voice in the back of my mind, one I keep trying to stifle, whispers that there’s no greater devotion than marrying someone to protect them, but I shove the thought away.
It’s too dangerous to give in to these feelings.
“Someone’s following me. Actually, two people, if you count Damien.
But at least he’s not the one who killed my mother.
I only agreed to this wedding so I can get my hands on that bastard and skin him alive,” I say all in one breath, and Luna freezes.
“Oh, and so it’s easier for Damien to keep me safe,” I add.
“What? Roxy, why the hell didn’t you tell me? What stalker? What does he have to do with your mother’s death?”
With a sigh, I sink into one of the armchairs in Roman’s office. I tell her everything I remember from that night, about the dahlia and Yuri. When I finish, Luna pulls me into a hug.
“You don’t have to marry anyone for protection. Roman can assign you a security team and hunt this guy. That is, if you're sure that's the only reason you agreed to the wedding,” she adds, a sly smile playing on her lips.
I scowl at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, my hackles rising.
“Roxy, I’m not blind. I see the way you look at him when you’re in the same room. More importantly, I see the way he looks at you.”
I want to deny it, to tell her she’s imagining things, but Luna knows me. She knows Damien is exactly my type—I even find his particular brand of insanity alluring.
Which only confirms I need another therapy session.
“You know as well as I do that Roman is helping Maksim dismantle that human trafficking network. I can’t divert resources from that for my own problems.”
Hundreds of children are still out there, waiting to be saved from the monsters they’ve fallen prey to. There are dozens of shipments to intercept and countless locations to raid.
She gives a slight nod. She understands the manpower that operation requires, and that my problem could take anywhere from a week to six months to solve.
God, I hope it doesn't come to that.
“We’d still find a way to protect you, Roxy,” she says, her hand covering mine.
“I know, but you already have enough on your plate without me adding my problems to the pile.”
She gives me that same warm look she’s had since the day she decided we were going to be friends for life, drinking coffee together well into our old age.
“You’ve never been a problem, Roxy. Now, let’s go see if Damien is still alive,” she says with a laugh.
You’ve never been a problem.
But I have been. For my mother. For my father. For Ivette. I’ve always been a burden to someone.
Before she can leave the office, I ask in a hushed voice, “How does he look at me?”
Her gaze meets mine, her eyes full of mirth. “The same way Roman looks at me. Like I’m the only good thing that’s ever happened to him.”
I swallow down the swell of emotion her words create and follow her out of the office.
The only good thing that’s ever happened to him.
I don’t know why, but the phrase makes my heart ache.
“What the hell is wrong with you? YOU COULDN’T FIND ANY OTHER SOLUTION BESIDES A WEDDING?” Roman’s shout echoes from the living room, and Luna rolls her eyes.
He and Damien are standing on opposite sides of the sofa. My eyes instinctively search for my future husband. His find mine instantly, and there's something in his gaze that makes my breath catch. Understanding. Warmth. Something that sends a flush creeping up my cheeks.
Maybe Roman should be asking me what's wrong because my body has never reacted to anyone like this before.
“Roxy, if he forced you…,” Roman starts.
“Do you really think I’m capable of something like that?” Damien cuts him off, indignant.
Roman’s gaze flicks between us for a few seconds before he replies. “For her? Yeah. I think you’d do that and a whole lot more.”
Damien’s eyes promise chaos and sweet revenge. He closes the distance between us, moving to stand behind me, his hand landing possessively on my waist.
“I’ve got the entire Council breathing down my neck, or I wouldn’t have put this offer on the table.
I would have put my whole arsenal at her disposal, but you know as well as I do that the vultures are circling, looking for any reason to take my votes.
I can’t afford to lose leadership of the organization.
You think you can protect her better than I can?
” he asks, his grip tightening on my waist.
I take a deep breath and place my hand over his. “The decision is mine, and I choose Damien.”
I feel him go completely still behind me. I glance back at him for a second. There’s an unreadable expression in his eyes, but I don't try to decipher it.
“I appreciate the concern, Ro. As a wedding gift, I’ll accept one of your knives. I have a feeling I’ll have plenty of reasons to use it,” I say, and a laugh bursts from Roman.
Beside him, Luna smiles and takes his hand.
“Well then, it looks like we have a wedding to plan,” she says, delighted.
My mind is instantly flooded with all the details I need to take care of, the people I have to call, and all the things that could go wrong.
I’ll have to call my family, though for a moment I try to convince myself that they don’t need to know.
It’s not like it’s a real, official wedding.
I’ll just call uncle Henry and ask him to come from Austin.
I can leave out the rest. The last thing I need is Ivette showing up.
“Thank you,” a voice says from behind me, and I flinch.
I step away from his touch, trying to maintain the thin line between us because I know that if I cross it, there will be no going back. This man would consume me whole, like a wildfire devouring everything in its path.
“For what?” I ask, my voice hoarse.
“For having my back,” he replies, a hint of vulnerability in his tone.
Why the hell does it get to me, seeing him like this? Why do I get the sense that no one has ever stood by him before? Why does it make me want to wrap my arms around him, just because I know what it feels like to be all alone?
“I was looking out for myself, Damien,” I say, turning toward Luna.
Regret stings my tongue the moment the words are out.
But I’ve let too many men break my heart.
One after another, a string of pretty faces, all leading to the same conclusion: I was never good enough.
It’s easier to be a disappointment from the beginning than to let someone build expectations you know you can never live up to.
Because I’m Roxy Tatcher. I’m “cold” and “unfeeling.”
And no one can get attached to that.