But not nearly as bad as the thoughts that had plagued me.

I’d tried to forget, but a rare moment passed when I wasn’t thinking about Kayla’s reaction when we’d talked about Todd.

The concern I had seen in her eyes when we’d talked about him had cut me to my core.

She had never had that kind of concern for me, had never gone out of her way to make sure I was okay.

Which I understood, at least intellectually.

She didn’t want anything to do with me and my life. She still viewed me as a threat to her father, who, despite all reason, she loved dearly.

And what she’d seen me do to Vahe probably hadn’t helped.

I knew all that and understood it.

I also didn’t give a fuck.

However Kayla might feel—or not feel—about me was beside the point.

The inescapable fact was that I wanted her, and I was too much of a possessive asshole to let her go.

Kayla would just have to deal with it.

I waited, noted that twenty-nine minutes passed before I heard the familiar knock at the door.

“Enter,” I said, again starting to play out that same dance we had countless times before over the years.

So familiar on the surface, but things were different now.

Because now Kayla was mine.

“What’s the deal?” she asked without preamble as she walked into the office.

“Let’s go,” I said by way of response as I stood.

She followed behind me without question, though I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

We went to the garage, and she finally asked, “Are we going somewhere?”

“Yeah. Why?” I answered.

“I left my wallet upstairs,” she said.

“You won’t need it,” I responded.

She quirked a brow but didn’t say anything else.

After we got into the SUV, she sat next to me, but was as far away as she could be.

I didn’t push the matter.

I didn’t have to.

She’d gotten inside without a fight, and before the day was over, everyone would know who she belonged to.

“You still haven’t told me the deal,” she said about five minutes after we got to the car.

“What’s your favorite color?” I asked.

“Is that some kind of code or something?” she said.

“No. It’s a question. What’s your favorite color?” I said.

“What’s your favorite color?” she countered, her brows furrowed.

“Whatever yours is,” I responded.

She laughed then shook her head.

“I don’t get why you’re asking this, but blue and pink are my favorite colors. Why?”

“Blue and pink,” I said, looking her up and down.

Both shades would look beautiful against her skin.

“Well?” she said when I said nothing else.

“Well what?” I responded.

“Elias, have you recently had a head injury?”