Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“I like that idea,” Dad declares. “Seems like a solid fit, with your background and all.”
Peter smiles at his approval. “I thought so. In any case, it’s something to do for now, when Sara is at work.”
There’s no trace of resentment in his voice, but I still can’t help a pang of unease as he gets up and starts clearing off the table. He’s bothered by my hours, I can tell. After all the months apart, the evenings and weekends we get to spend together are not enough—for either one of us.
Maybe this new training business will make things better, giving him something to focus on that’s not me, and as we settle into our married life, we won’t miss each other as intensely. If not, then sooner or later, something will have to give—and it’ll have to be on my side.
Peter has sacrificed everything to make me happy, and I can do no less for him.
As my parents leave, I debate telling Peter about Ryson’s visit to my dad, but I decide against it. He was already upset to learn that the FBI agent had interfered with our wedding. If he knew that Ryson is continuing to harass my family, he might do something about it—and that’s the last thing I want.
Promise or not, Peter will do whatever it takes to protect me, and I don’t need another man’s death on my conscience.
Part II
20
Sara
Over the next month, we settle into our new home and continue with the routine we’ve fallen into during our first week of marriage. Though Danny and the rest of Peter’s security team are always around, Peter drives me to and from work himself, and he volunteers with me at the clinic. In between, he works on setting up his new business and gathering clients—a venture in which he’s having great success.
I sneak out of my office one afternoon, when I have a couple of appointment cancellations, and have Danny drive me to the park that Peter has chosen as his outdoor training grounds. And then I watch, grinning, as he puts five teenage boys through their paces, making them sprint, jump over benches, climb trees, and attempt to punch him in the face.
None of them succeed, of course, but they look like they’re having fun trying.
I know how they feel because I asked him to teach me a few moves last Sunday, and we spent the morning in his gym, practicing some basic self-defense. It was like fighting a mountain, and the only move I mastered was lifting my legs to become a dead weight when he’d grab me from behind—to pull my attacker off-balance, supposedly. Needless to say, all that grabbing ended in us having sex the moment we got home, and I’m still far from being able to defend myself—not that I need to, with Peter and the bodyguards always around.
He spots me a minute later, and a radiant smile lights his face before he turns back and barks out the next set of instructions at the boys. Then he comes toward me, leaving his students to grunt and pant as they attempt to do a pull-up on a tree.
It’s a hot August day, and he’s shirtless, dressed only in a pair of camouflage pants and combat boots. I watch, mouth dry, as he comes toward me with a loping stride, his muscled torso glowing with a hint of perspiration.
“What are you doing here, ptichka?” he asks, stopping in front of me, and I jump at him, looping my arms around his neck. He catches me, twirling me around as I kiss him unabashedly, and by the time he puts me down, we’re both breathing heavily while his students hoot and wolf-whistle in the background.
“Back to it,” he barks over his shoulder, his hands still on my waist, and they instantly obey, resuming their attempts at pull-ups.
“A real drill sergeant, are we?” I grin up at him, reaching up to smooth his thick hair into some semblance of order. It’s getting long on the sides as well as the top, and harder to control. I like the messy look, so I don’t say anything, but we’ll probably need to get him in for a haircut soon.
“You bet,” he murmurs, dipping his head to kiss me again, and I laugh, pushing him away before we start making out for real. It’s happened in public way too often; Peter has no shame when it comes to me.
In part, it’s because we keep feeling like we don’t get enough time together. My current job has more predictable hours, but I still have a few pregnant patients—and my bosses have extended their vacation, so I’ve been seeing all of their patients this month as well.
They asked me to cover for them, and I couldn’t say no.
“Yes, you could,” Peter said when I explained that I have to be on call for yet another weekend because Wendy’s patient is about to deliver. “You could definitely say no. What’s the worst that would happen? They’d fire you?”