“Good.”
There was something soft inhis voice. She tilted her head and looked into his eyes. As usual,he returned her gaze confidently, as if he had nothing to hide. Hehad beautiful eyes. They were grey, masculine, and surprisingly,trusting now. As she thought before, he was not a normal mercenarylike her father usually hires. From the polish of his boots, shebelieved him when he said was once military. He’d probably seensome horrible things—losing his friends in horrible ways in somewar. Yes, he probably did understand why she couldn’t talk aboutit. In fact he was probably the only one. “You’ve lost peopleyou’ve loved, haven’t you?” she saw him swallow and the muscletensed in his jaw, but his expression didn’t waver. “Who?” It wasthe first time he looked away from her. There was a long stretch ofsilence and she knew not to interrupt him. He was debating ontelling her. If she urged him, she had a suspicion he wouldn’t lether in on it. She needed to know more about him if she was going totrust him, so she would give him the time. He had a stunningprofile. She took a moment to look at it more closely. He had asquare masculine jaw dusted with dark stubble, and his nose wasautocratic, and straight. He had a tan, from time spent outdoors.He had chiseled cheekbones and deep set eyes—stunning eyes. Yes, hewas very different from what her father usually hired and shestarted to be glad he was. He looked at her again, and her heartactually jumped as his eyes locked with hers. He was stillcomposed, but when he spoke there was a barely discernable crack inhis voice.
“My older brother.” Heneeded her trust to help him do his job right and find who murderedhis brother. He despised himself for using his memory this way, butit may gain him an edge so he was honest. Her lips parted in asilent gasp.
Without thinking, shemoved toward him, reached out and touched his arm. “I’m sorry.I’m really sorry.” The words were heartfelt. She felt guilty forbringing up his pain. At least she now knew they had something incommon. It was unfortunate it had to be the deep grief of siblingloss, but at least she knew the man was human after all. It washard to see, but there was a softness in him. That was probablysomething she would have never seen before but things had changedfor her. “You understand, then, what I’ve been through.”
He stared down at her andnodded. Yes, he could understand. However, she had it worse, muchworse. He was trained to take the torture, abuse, and loss of thoseclose to him, she wasn’t.
She ran a hand through herhair and pursed her lips. “Can you promise me something?” Herexpression firmed.
“It depends.”
“If you get your hands onthose men that raped and killed my sister, I want you to make surethey never see daylight again.” She meant it. She meant every wordfrom the bottom of her soul. Anna’s screams haunted hernights.
Oh, that he could certainlydo. One less drug dealer and rapist in Miami would be a pleasure.“As you wish,” he agreed without hesitation.
She gave bittersweet smile.Yes, maybe this man was exactly what she needed rightnow.
A knock on the door broughther back out of her thoughts and before she could even take a steptoward it Ryan was there. He cast her a quick glance to stay putbefore he opened it a crack and exchanged words with whoever was onthe other side. Then he shut it.
“Who was it?”
“One of your father’s men.Your father has arranged for you to see a Psychiatrist. He’sdownstairs, in the library.”
“My father can arrangeanything he wants.” She sat on the edge of her bed and stared outthe window.
Ryan knew she was going tobe stubborn about this, and he didn’t like Peter at all, but he didagree with what her father did. She was clearly traumatized andneeded some help getting through this. He certainly wasn’t one thatcould make her feel better, because he’d seen worse and was notherapist, nor did he have the desire to become one. “Go see thisperson.”
She stood and looked athim. It wasn’t in the form of a question but she made sure she gavehim an answer. “No.”
“Miss Nickolov—“
“You need to call meKatya—or Kat. I can’t have someone calling me that last name. It’stoo hard to deal with. Especially since my father is Mr. Nickolov.Please.”
“All right,” he saideasily. He didn’t really care what she wanted him to call her aslong as she listened.
“I’m still not going,” sherepeated seeing him still standing there.
“You are.” His tone waslaced with authority.
Her mouth fell. “You are inno position to—”
“—I am. I am yourprotection whether you like it or not. I need you sound. You cannotsit there with pride and stubbornness and tell me that you’re fine.I’ve seen the unshed tears and trembling when there’s even a nearmention of—“
“—You son ofa—”
“—You need to deal withthis sooner or later. Sooner means that you start the healingprocess and I have a better chance of protecting you without somesort of relapse episode.”
She couldn’t believe herears! He was more concerned about his job than her emotional state.How dare he use her small visible vulnerabilities against her. Shethought he was being a gentleman by not mentioning them, but now hedid, and it made her feel weak! She was about to let her temperloose when he held up his hand to cut her off again.
“I’m not being coldKatya.”
“No, of course not, you’rea real sweetheart,” she shot back glaring at him.
“I need you to be able tolisten if something comes up. I can’t have you unfocused,” heexplained, which was a rare occasion for him, but he’d neverguarded a traumatized client before, or a female. She was alreadyproving to be a handful. He expected a meek and brow beaten woman,but here was this stubborn, opinionated, one instead. She may notrealize it but sending her to boarding schools in Europe wasprobably the best thing for her. Her father would have had hershriveling at his feet like he did with all women.
“I don’t need a
