After his brother left, he headed down to his gym. He had a lot of negative energy to burn. Working out helped him focus and he needed answers.
After running for an hour on the treadmill, he completed his punishing regime with the free weights. He was busy with the punching bag when he heard someone come into the gym.
It was Isabella. She wore one of his t-shirts and nothing more. Her long black hair fell loose over one shoulder.
“What are you doing down here, Klaus? I woke up and you were gone. I was worried.”
“I didn’t mean to scare you, baby.” He used his hand towel to wipe the sweat from his forehead.
He’d fucked up. Allowed one of his enemies to get his hands on his own wife. Klaus felt like a failure as a husband, as a man.
“Everything looks so normal upstairs. Like nothing happened.”
“The cleaning crew left a few hours ago,” he said. “Did you get a good rest?”
She nodded, walking into the room. “It’s like it was all a bad dream. You’d never know our room was covered in blood yesterday.”
“Don’t think about it, Bella.”
He hated that she had to deal with any of this bullshit. Her father was going to suffer for this.
“I’m not a civilian, Klaus. I’ve seen blood. I’ve seen death.”
Something wasn’t right. She was too in control, too relaxed for what she’d just been through. They may not have been married for long, but he already knew her better than this. He approached her, but she was standoffish.
“Come here.”
“No.”
He narrowed his eyes and wrapped his arms around her, holding her still as she fought in his arms. Her tears came out of nowhere, the deep sobbing shaking her to the core. He felt for her. Her own father had signed her death contract. She finally gave up fighting and leaned against him, crying into his shirt.
“I’m so sorry, baby. I swear on my life, it will never happen again.”
“Klaus, you didn’t do anything.”
“You’re mine. I’m supposed to keep you safe.”
She took a breath and looked up at him. “My father wants me dead.”
He swallowed hard. The pain in her voice, the betrayal, was palpable. He swore he could hear her heart breaking. “Fuck him,” he whispered, kissing her hair.
“He put a hit on me, Klaus!”
His anger grew, his muscles tensing. “Tell me you want him dead, and I’ll make it happen. Please, baby, I need your blessing,” he said. “I don’t want this to come between us.”
He thought about what Renzo had mentioned. The last thing he wanted was for Isabella to resent him for the rest of their lives.
She sniffled and shook her head. “Don’t ask me that.”
“I need an answer, Bella.”
“I can’t be responsible for killing my father, even if he is a monster. If I have that on my conscience, it will eat me up forever.”
He kept quiet.
“But if something were to happen to him, I wouldn’t lose sleep.”
That was exactly what he needed to hear. She’d given her indirect permission. Now that fucker was as good as dead. Klaus had to contain his excitement, holding his bride close.
He didn’t want her sad. They had to move onward, not focus on the shitty days—even if last night was up there on the list.
“You’re going to need to take a shower now,” he said.
“Why?”
He looked down between them, and as she realized what he referred to, she wrinkled her nose. Klaus was covered in sweat, his tank top soaked through.
She giggled, and it was a beautiful sound. When had Isabella’s happiness become linked with his own? He was falling in love with his wife. It wasn’t something he was accustomed to in their world, but he welcomed it. They’d be a real family, and their children would be raised with love.
First, he had to make sure they were safe.
That meant destroying the Lastra empire.
****
Isabella heard the water turn off in the shower. Klaus had jumped in after his workout. Even covered in sweat, he looked edible. After a session, his muscles were hard and defined. He was an animal in the gym. He was in better shape than men half his age.
What she didn’t like was his guilt. She felt it, heard it in his voice. It was her father to blame, not her husband. Klaus would do anything to protect her, and he had protected her. It wasn’t healthy dragging around the heavy chains of guilt.
She opened the bathroom door. He was just toweling off, his body glistening. A male work of art. Isabella glanced down at his flaccid cock, and as if the simple glance was a switch, it began to thicken.
“Bella?”
“You’ve taken me so many times. Tasted me. I want to do the same.”
He raised an eyebrow. Before he could complain, she got to her knees on the lush bathroom mat.