I’m about to shoot past the frame when the mention of my name makes me pause. My ears must be playing tricks on me, but no, there it is again. Katherine Morrell. My full legal name on Alex’s lips catches me off guard. Why are they discussing me?
The relaxing effect of the shower vanishes. I want to both demand an explanation and run. What I don’t want is for Alex to think I’m eavesdropping, but it’s too late, because when I finally get my feet to move toward the stairs again, Alex’s voice stops me in my tracks.
“Katyusha.”
The way he says my name now is in stark contrast to what I’ve just heard. The endearment is spoken tenderly—no, cautiously. Reluctantly, I turn. He stands in the frame, worry lines marring his forehead.
“I…” I swallow to moisten my dry throat. “I had a shower. I hope you don’t mind.”
He advances toward me, his frown deepening. “Why would I mind?”
The bald man exits behind Alex. He casts a glance in my direction before heading past us down the stairs. Through the open door, I notice a desk and bookshelves. It looks like a study.
Alex draws my attention back to him when he takes both of my hands, rubbing his thumbs over my knuckles. “I want you to feel at home. You can do whatever you please here.”
“Thank you.” I study his face for clues of what just happened in his study, but it’s an unreadable mask.
“Come,” he says, pulling me toward the stairs. “I owe you a tour.”
Withdrawing my hands from his, I hang back. He stops and looks at me, his features schooled except for a frown. I don’t miss the minute darkening of his eyes that shows his displeasure at my defiance. If he’s not going to address the elephant in the room, I will.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
My voice comes out a tad breathless, the tension I’m trying to hide evident in my tone. “Why were you talking about me?”
A pained expression flashes over his face. “I’m sorry you heard that.”
“I didn’t mean to.” I feel compelled to justify myself. “I was just coming out of the room and—”
He clasps my wrist, wrapping his strong fingers lightly around my bones, which feel too fragile in his hold. “You don’t have to explain, Katyusha. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Then explain to me what I heard,” I say, staring up at his ruggedly handsome face.
He waves a hand. “It’s nothing.”
Dragging me against his chest, he places a big palm on my lower back and brings his head down. From the way his gaze fixes on my lips, I know he’s swooping in for a kiss, but I turn my face away and his lips brush over my cheek in the gentlest of caresses instead.
Craning my neck to look him in the eyes, I say, “It’s not nothing. You discussed me with one of your men.”
A sigh falls from his lips. “I don’t want to worry you with silly details you shouldn’t concern yourself about.”
“If it’s so silly, then tell me.”
He purses his lips as he considers me. After a moment, he says, “A man like me is always a target. You understand?”
My neck is starting to feel the strain, bent backward as it is. “What does that have to do with me?”
“Nothing.” His expression closes off even as determination settles in his eyes.
When he goes for my mouth again, I push my palms against his shoulders. “Alex, stop.”
He gives me a frustrated look. Holy shit. He’s trying to distract me with a kiss, knowing the effect he has on my body. I push harder, but he doesn’t set me free. One hand is still firmly pressed against my back while the other is curled around my wrist.
I grit my teeth. “What does that have to do with me, Alex?”
A storm brews in his eyes. Whatever that conversation was about, he doesn’t want to tell me.
I tense even more, dread creeping into my veins, but it’s too late. I can’t not know now. “Tell me,” I say, my voice hard.
A muscle ticks in his jaw. “It’s just a precaution. It means nothing.”
A lightbulb goes on, the realization hitting me like a brick between the eyes. He doesn’t trust me. He looked into me. The knowledge hurts. I don’t know why. Maybe because I want him to trust me. Maybe because he should’ve trusted me before falling into bed with me. The regret in his eyes tells me I’m right. It tells me he knows this is hurting me, even as the hard set of his mouth informs me that if given another chance, he’d do that hurtful thing all over again.
This time, when I shove him, he lets me go.
I stumble back a step, barely regaining my balance in my high-heeled boots. “You did a background check on me.” Saying it out loud rubs salt into the wound. My laugh is cynical. “What did you find? My grades? My yearbooks?” If he was looking for a history of drug abuse or something scandalous that could tarnish his billionaire reputation and make it a hazard for him to be seen with me, he would’ve looked for a long time. When he still says nothing, I add tauntingly, “Bank statements?”
He flinches.
Son of a bitch. I was being sarcastic about the bank statements. “You accessed my bank account?”
“Katyusha.” His voice is soft, cajoling.
I stare at him in disbelief. “What were you hoping to find?”
“You have to understand.” He spreads his palms. “Some people would pay a lot of money to see me go down, use whatever means they have to.”
I take another step back, farther away from him. “You mean bribe me? To do what? Gather information on you?” I wave my arms around. “Plant a bug in your house? Is that what you think of me?”
“No.” His tone is harsh. “I told you. It’s a precaution.”
“Why? What gave you the idea that I’d do something like that?”
“At first, you wanted nothing to do with me. Then I saw you again and you gave me such a pretty, eager smile. You have to admit, it was a rather quick change of mind.”
I itch to smack him. If my mother had raised me differently, I might have. To think we toasted to girls changing their minds with his high-end vodka last night. To think I spent the night in his bed with him inside me. No, I shouldn’t think about that. I’m upset, and anything I say now, I may regret later. Dragging my fingers through my hair, I retreat as far away from him as possible, until my back hits the wall.
“I need to go,” I say in a hoarse whisper.
He takes two steps toward me. “Katyusha.”
“Stop calling me that. Don’t pretend you care.”
“That’s the problem. I do.”
I turn my face away. “Stop it.”
He advances more, reaching for me. I see his hands from my peripheral vision, those hands that had been all over my body last night while he secretly ran security checks on me. Before he can touch me, I sidestep him again.
“You’re upset,” he says.
No kidding. I look back up at him. “You could’ve told me you planned on running a background check on me.”
“I didn’t want you to be upset about nothing.”
“It’s not nothing! What you think of me—” I bite off the words I was about to say, the admission that it’s important to me.