Page 78 of Ice Queen

* Please

* It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.

* I’m sorry, my love

* What’s wrong

* Dear

CHAPTER 25

Markus

I relax the second the words “fancy coffee maker” leave her mouth. Her eyes sparkle as she looks up at me. It takes everything in me not to lean in and kiss her again. Today has been a lot. From waking up together to attempting to make breakfast before we were so rudely interrupted, and then the way she bloody flinched when I moved toward her.

No, she needed that breather. And I need her ex’s name. She said he never hit her, but that reaction was instinctual, her body curled in on itself before she could even blink. I’m thanking every lucky star I have that she found me when she did. That I helped her escape before it crossed a line I’m sure was very close.

I grabbed a beer from the fridge, popped the top, and threw it in the bowl with the other lids the second I came back inside. The bottle felt foreign in my hand. I blinked blankly at it as I stood in the middle of my kitchen, trying to recall the last time I actually wanted a drink. I looked at it, then back to the door she walked out of, and realized, she is helping me be ‘me but better.’

I poured it down the sink, then sat on the couch for the entire twenty-seven minutes she sat in her car, and ran through multiple different ways I could have handled that. Maybe I was afraid she’d say no, maybe I was worried she wouldn’t need me to protect her anymore. Not that she does now, but that’s my own insecurity talking.

Regardless, I was out of line. And damn it, if I wasn’t so afraid of her leaving, I’d think her standing up to me was hot as hell. There are very few people who are brave enough to do that, but she sees through my crunchy exterior, and she knows I won’t disrespect her.

Did I make a copy of her keys the first day she moved in? Yes. Do I feel bad about it? Not in the slightest. I do feel bad that I took away her right to decide what she wanted, and I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.

I really did just go for the dress, but the second I pulled the door open, and nothing blared to life, I saw red. My mind ran through all the different scenarios she could find herself in with no security system. God forbid I was on the road while something happened, I would have been on the first flight out, leaving my team in a shitty spot right as the playoffs start.

We’re about to be in and out of town for hopefully the next eight weeks. Four rounds, seven teams, and we’re gunning to be one of the two that ends up in the finals. But I know I wouldn’t be able to fully focus if she were there.

Here, I can turn on the alarm from my phone when she tells me goodnight, and keep it on until she texts me the next morning. Is that a bit extreme? Maybe. But all rational thoughts flee where she’s concerned.

“Of course, Princesa.” My lips twitch at the corners, relief slowly filling me from the inside out. “I’ll teach you whatever you want.”

Her lips part, a smile taking over her face.

“On one condition,” I add, throwing her words from earlier back at her.

She holds my gaze, chin lifted just slightly. “Name it.”

“You have to show me your collection when I win the cup.”

Her mouth falls open, and the most beautiful laugh tumbles from the depths of her soul. “Okay, Casanova. You’ve got yourself a deal.”

“Casanova, really?” I ask, releasing her from my hold. “We’re sticking with that?”

She thinks on it for a second before nodding. “Yeah,” she says, fiddling with the sleeve of her shirt. “You deserve to know someone’s on your side, despite what they try to spin.” A beat of silence passes before she tacks on “other than your family and your teammates, of course.”

She straightens. “You know what, never mind that was–”

“Stop overthinking.” My voice soft, fingers brushing against her cheek, and tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “I want to be the place where you’re comfortable enough to unmask. Let me.”

“You think I mask?”

Scoffing, I lace my fingers through hers and pull us to the couch. “I think you try to be who you think other people want you to be.”

I grab the blanket and pull it over us, flipping on the TV to the food channel that I know she watched the entire time I was gone. Not because I checked the security camera or anything. She leans into my side, letting me wrap an arm around her shoulder.

“I don’t mean to, I’m sorry.” She whispers, eyes glued to the TV.