Pushing off the wall, I shove my fingers through my hair. “You know what? You’re right. It’s not important.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” His voice is tight as I walk past him.
“Nothing,” I say, not looking back at him. Let’s see how he feels about that nothing he’s been giving me as an answer.
“Katerina, come back here.”
I all but run down the stairs, looking around for my bag. Where did I leave it?
Marusya comes out of the kitchen with a plastic container in her hand just as I enter the foyer with Alex hot on my heels. Her eyes widen a fraction as she takes us in.
“Um…” I make an effort to calm myself, brushing invisible strands of hair off my face. “Have you seen my bag?”
She points at a wingback chair. My handbag sits neatly on it. I must’ve dropped it in the car during our heated make-out session last night. Heat floods my cheeks when I think about the driver who probably brought my handbag inside and what he must’ve been thinking. What the sweet housekeeper is thinking. What Alex is thinking: that I had a change of mind because someone paid me to sleep with him.
Hurrying over to the chair, I grab my bag. I need to escape. I need space to calm down and think this through. I spin on my heels, giving Alex a flustered, “Thanks for the dinner and”—I clear my throat—“everything.”
He stares at me silently, his blue eyes hard but at the same time soft with something that threatens to steal into my heart. But no. I won’t be treated like a spy who can be bought for the right price. Our attraction isn’t enough for me to turn a blind eye to the fact that he’d held this opinion of me while we were in bed together, or that he’d invaded my privacy in this awful way. Not even the great sex or tender aftercare this morning is worth it.
Marusya trots across the floor and thrusts the container she’s carrying at me, her cheeks flushed. “Your lunch.”
“Thank you,” I say, taking the container. Since she’s gone to the trouble of making the lunch, I’m not going to be rude and throw it back in her face. I’m angry with Alex, not his housekeeper.
For some reason, though, I can’t say goodbye to him. The knowledge that I’ll never see him again hurts even worse than his reluctant confession. The tears are already burning the backs of my eyes as I escape to the door, cursing my naivety. I’m no match for a worldly, experienced Russian oligarch with many enemies. The kind of men I’m used to dating don’t distrust me. They get to know me over time because we don’t fall into bed on the first date. They don’t dig up my history while I sleep in their arms, and they certainly don’t hack into my bank account.
Kate, you are such an idiot.
I wipe at my eyes and grip the doorknob, but it slides in my sweaty palm. I try twice, and still the damn door doesn’t budge. There’s no escaping. I’m stuck inside.
A strong, masculine arm circles around me from behind, stilling my hand. I freeze. Alex leans against me, letting me feel his weight as he sandwiches me between his muscular body and the door. Despite everything, he’s hard for me. His erection is like a bar of steel pressing on my spine. His heat penetrates my skin, and my body aches for more. It wants his arms around me, soothing me, but my mind is finally back from its sabbatical, functioning despite the haze of the hormones raging through my body.
“Stay,” he murmurs, nuzzling my neck.
A heated shiver ripples down my spine. “Why? You got what you wanted.”
“I told you, I want more.”
“Because whatever you pulled up on me last night confirmed I’m not a threat to you?”
He blows out a long breath, letting it feather along the arch of my neck. “Even if you were a threat, I’d still want more.”
Those words should soothe me, but I’m too bruised inside. A part of me wishes I’d heeded the storm in his eyes, but I wanted the truth.
“Let me go.” My words are more of a plea than an order.
He heaves a sigh. “You’re right. I should’ve told you. It’s standard procedure, so much of a norm for me that I forget how it must feel for an outsider like you.”
“I need…” I bite my lip, considering where this leaves us. “I need time.”
“Time.” He says it like the world rests on his shoulders. “Sure. Of course. I understand.”
I wait, but he doesn’t let go of my hand. He cups it over the doorknob for another few seconds before he turns the knob and steps away. Cold air rushes down my back as the distance between us lengthens. The door swings open, and a blast of icy air hits me in the face. The wind is strong today, making the chilly fall weather feel even colder.
In the light of day, I notice the manicured front garden and the fountain with a statue of a fallen angel I didn’t notice in the dark last night. The angel is draped over the fountain steps, her marble dress dragging in the dirt. One intricate wing is broken, hanging torn at her side. The sight is so sad it jostles my heart, making the tears I’m trying to hold back spill over my cheeks.
The black car from yesterday is parked at the curb. Yuri stands next to it as if he’s always waiting to drive Alex on command. Alex follows me out and opens the door for me. I manage to wipe my palms over my cheeks before I slide into the back seat, where he’d almost undressed me.
He leans down, catching my eyes as I shift all the way to the other side. “It was—” He gives a soft smile and a short shake of his head, as if catching himself. “Tell me I’ll see you again.”
I can’t. I can’t make a promise if I’m not certain about keeping it. “Alex.” My voice holds a plea.
“Fine, Katyusha. You want time? You win.” The line of his jaw sharpens as his mouth sets in a determined line. “But rest assured, I’ll call you. Very soon.” He taps the roof of the car. “For now, my driver will take you wherever you want to go.”
When he straightens and closes my door, the driver takes off. I dare a look over my shoulder. Alex stands on the pavement, staring after the car with his hands shoved into his pockets. A lump swells in my throat, and a sharp sense of loss stabs into my heart.
Despite what he said, the look he wears says I won’t see him again.
9
My mom bustles around the bedroom, shoving outfits into a suitcase and pulling them out again.
I finish folding a wrap and a matching bathing suit and lay them neatly in her suitcase before flopping down on the bed. “Stop fussing. Whatever you wear, you always look pretty. Besides, it’s Mexico. You probably don’t need more than this swimsuit and wrap.”
“Oh”—she waves a hand—“I’ll just go naked when we’re at the condo. It’s the evenings I’m worried about. Martin said there are a few lovely restaurants to try.”
I groan, making a face. “TMI, Mom. Way TMI.”
She stops to smooth a hand over my hair like she used to when I was little. “What about you, honey? Are you still going through a dry spell after that horrible Tony? Why don’t you let me set you up on a date?”
It’s as if a spike pierces my chest every time I think of my disastrous one-night stand. Well, not all of it was disastrous. Just the honesty part, the part where the man who fucked me thought me capable of spying on him. As if I’d even know what to look for.