He was now exclaiming his disbelief not at me choosing to work for Roman Marakov, but that I was asking Tracey to color my hair blonde once again.

Tracey was lovely, by the way.

She had eighties’ hair, with bangs that looked like they had an IV hooked up to an Aquanet bottle, and she was even wearing a tie-dyed shirt. The jeans skirt was modern, looking frayed and very trendy and showing a good amount of her ass, but judging by Tracey’s makeup, I was thinking it was just how she liked it.

That, and her attitude.

She waltzed into our house as if it was hers and we needed to get out of the way for her to properly make it her own. She had a meatloaf in the oven within twenty minutes.

No joke. Twenty minutes.

Meatloaf.

I loved her immediately.

She told Cavers to ‘take a load off’ and myself to sit and eat. She felt I needed to pack on some pounds, or twenty. Her words. Abram was next and without batting an eye, not mentioning one bit how he was a solid two-fifty of straight muscle, she told him he could do a spa treatment on his pores. She also complimented his tremendously long and beautiful eyelashes, sighing with envy, and I had to admit that I understood. His lashes were something to die for. When she started for Raize, the words faltered in her throat and she just threw him a smile and mentioned, “Aren’t you the hottie patottie one, huh?” And then she turned back to me. “Jake mentioned you were a blonde, and unless my eyesight is going a good forty years early, I’m guessing that was a color job?”

I laughed. “I was a blonde when I was little, but yes. It was a color job.”

Her hands settled over my shoulder. “I’m a hairstylist, babe. I’m literally your godsend arriving to you. All that said, you want a new dye job or not? You got some frayed ends that need to be trimmed, too. What do you think?”

I put her right to bringing back my blonde, and once we were done, I gazed into the mirror and felt like I’d come home again.

It was an odd, but a settling feeling at the same time.

This.

This was me now.

The new me.

The ‘canary’ me.

Maybe I should take that name instead?

Feeling a warmth rush through me, I knew Raize was watching me.

I glanced over.

He was leaning against the kitchen wall, his arms crossed over his chest, and those eyes locked on me.

I liked Tracey a lot.

I also really liked that my blonde hair color was back.

I sank down over Raize, gasping as he was thrusting up into me at the same time.

Seriously.

This man.

His touch.

His body.

His cock.

I loved him. All of him.

I was gasping, feeling the sensations riding through me, threatening.

I didn’t want to come, not yet.

I clamped down, my body slick as I tried to hold off.

He wrapped his arms tighter around me, his head moving and biting my neck. He growled, “Come!”

I shook my head, too weak to say anything.

I was almost blind from the pulsations inside of me.

Oh God.

I was so close.

But no, not yet.

Please not yet.

I tried to hold off, even though I felt the first roll starting.

When that first wave began, I knew what was after, and I growled, hoping desperately to hold off, but damn. Damn! I couldn’t.

My climax ripped through me and I could only hold on. My arms and legs were wrapped around Raize, and he was holding me until my trembles had started to fade. After that, I was flipped over, he sank back in and went to town.

Gripping my ass tight, he pounded into me, his own growled climax coming not too far away, and damn again.

I seriously loved this man.

He collapsed on top of me, but I knew he wouldn’t stay. He never did. I liked to feel his weight, but he always rolled to the side, and he’d pull me into his arms, cradling me as if I were something precious for him to hold. He’d pepper soft kisses over my neck, my shoulders, my face, and wherever else he could kiss.

I shivered, but the good kind, because damn for the fourteenth time, because I loved how he handled me.

I was ‘precious cargo’ in his terms.

Once he deposited us both back on the bed, I rolled to my back and looked over to him. He was starting to lie back down, his arm over me and his head finding my neck and shoulder. I held him off, murmuring, “I love you.” I said it with a bit more oomph than normal.

He noted this, his head pausing and his eyebrows knitting a bit. He smoothed his hand over my stomach. “I love you, too.”

More warmth rushed through me.

Usually that was enough and I could sink back into our happy oblivion, but this time, I held off. A nagging was there, whispering to me and I had to get it out of me. “Am I choosing wrong? Am I doing the wrong thing?”

He tensed, just slightly, and raised his head a bit higher. He sat up, resting on his arm, but he kept his other over my stomach. “Would you be happy out of this world?”

I knew the answer, so immediate that it gave me whiplash.

“No,” I whispered.

I was torn because that isn’t the answer I should’ve been giving.

I should’ve wanted to leave. It would’ve been considered a happily ever after to anyone else, but not me. That was the issue here.

Raize asked again, gently, “If you think about it, if you took Roman’s offer and got out, what would life look like for you? Is that something you’d want now because if it is, we can figure it out. I promise you that. I love you. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

I believed him, and that cemented my gut, pushing my self-doubt out.

It helped.

A lot.

I spoke my truth, feeling like I could in his arms, “I would never be happy, living that life. This way, I’m in. I can do some good. I can’t do anything to stop what my mom did, but maybe others. What Brooke’s boyfriend did to her. Maybe.”

Or was I just trying to sell myself on this decision? Was something still holding me back?

“You can try to do some good this way, but,” his hand seemed to rest more heavy on my stomach, “you can’t rely on that if that’s your sole reason for choosing to work for Roman. If you want out, tell me. We will disappear within twelve hours. I’ve done the preparations. We can get to my sister and then we can all be gone, but, you have to make the decision. I will do what you want me to do.”

There’d been wars started over territory, over vengeance, over women, but Raize—he was someone that Roman would start a war for. Raize was that good. I knew it. Raize knew it. Roman knew it. So did everyone else who came into Raize’s life.

Could I pull him away? And for what?

To do what?

No.

The answer was solid. It settled in my gut.

I relaxed back in bed, Raize’s hand returning to soothing over my stomach.

“I will only stay if I make a difference. If I can’t, if there’s absolutely no indication that Roman will listen to me, then I want out. I want out with you.”

Raize’s hand paused and he moved, rising above me again. His eyes found me, so dark, so somber, so serious. He said, quietly, before fitting his lips to mine, “Deal.”

Deal.

Decision made.

I was okay with that decision.