I take a look around. Last night it was dark, and my brain wasn’t working. Today, I’m stunned by how beautiful the cabin is. It’s more like a forest mansion, really. A great room with vaulted ceilings has wall-to-wall windows along one side with a spectacular view of the forest. Leather furniture is organized around the view and the fireplace on one end of the great room. On the other, a long farm table anchors the open-concept dining area, which is beside the large, well-appointed kitchen.
As I discovered last night, the curving staircase leads to an upper-level wraparound hallway, with banisters overlooking the great room. There are four bedrooms and two bathrooms up there.
I head into the kitchen, starting a pot of coffee as quietly as possible. The refrigerator is empty except for condiments, but there’s some food in the pantry. Canned goods. A pancake mix that only requires water. A half a bag of chocolate chips.
I definitely need chocolate today. I pop a few chips in my mouth and go about making chocolate chip pancakes. I’m a firm believer in adding chocolate to everything, especially when I’m stressed.
Dima still hasn’t woken by the time I finish, so I eat a couple, lamenting the lack of butter, but finding real maple syrup to drizzle over them instead.
Then I finally stop stalling and go into Nikolai’s room. I need to give him his meds through a new drip although I can’t remember if we even brought the supplies in from the Land Rover last night. I do a cursory check of the room but don’t find them.
Outside, I find the Land Rover open, and I carry the cardboard box of supplies inside, setting them gently on the dresser beside a pistol and Dima’s glasses.
I didn’t know Dima had a gun. I’ve seen them on Ravil and Maxim before but never on Dima.
I stare at it for a moment.
“You touch that pistol, Natasha, and the gloves come off.”
I whirl, anger surging like bile. Dima’s sitting up in the bed, his blond hair rumpled, his face no less beautiful when he’s being cruel. He pats the bedside table without taking his gaze off me and I realize he’s looking for his glasses.
I hand them to him. “Seriously, Dima? What in the hell do you think I’m going to do with it? Shoot you? Make you give me the keys, so I can run away?” I throw my hands in the air with exasperation. “I live in your building. My mother lives in your building. I know this is my fault, but I’m in this with you. I’m not the enemy.”
Dima swings his long legs off the bed and stalks past me and out of the room without answering.
Great. So I’m getting the silent treatment now. Peachy.
Nikolai groans. “Well, good-fucking-morning to you, too.”
“Nikolai!” I gasp, moving to his side. “I’m sorry. You’re probably in pain. You were supposed to get your meds a couple hours ago.”
“That explains it,” he says weakly.
“Just give me a minute. It’s intravenous, so it will work quickly.”
I swiftly attach the IV bag and the painkiller to the tube still in the back of his hand and unlock the port, as the veterinarian showed me. My hands shake nearly as badly as they did last night, just from that little interaction with Dima, and I have to work to steady my breath.
“You’ve got my brother all kinds of grouchy,” Nikolai observes.
“Tell me about it,” I mutter as I work. “And I thought you two were the laid-back ones.”
“We are. We were. Not with you around, though.”
I wince. Finishing with the IV, I take his temperature and write it down, as Dr. Taylor requested.
“You know what I think?” Nikolai’s accent is thick. He sounds a little drunk from pain.
“What?”
“Dima is madder about you bringing a date to the game than about me getting shot.”
For a moment, my heart stops. Then it trips up to a gallop. “I-I’m sure that’s not true,” I say, trying to sound casual while I’m reeling.
Another confirmation that I was right. Dima’s into me. Judging by what Nikolai’s saying, he’s way into me.
So... WTF? Why has this guy never acted on it? Why won’t he ask me out? Why won’t he make a move?
I attach a pressure cuff to Nikolai’s arm and check his blood pressure, writing it down on the sheet of paper as well. “I’m sorry you got shot,” I murmur as I work. “I would do anything for a redo on last night. I’m just so sorry.”
“I forgive you,” he says magnanimously. “It’s Dima you need to work on.”
I look toward the open door, but I don’t know where he’s gone. Now that Nikolai’s let me in on his secret—that he is interested in me… that knowledge fuels me, gives me the courage to find him and try to explain myself.
He deserves the truth.
Dima
I stand in Ravil’s office, surveying computer equipment that I set up here, trying to figure out if I have what I need to start a full-scale investigation into Alex.
“Dima?”
Blyad’. I can’t get away from her.
I turn to find Natasha standing in the doorway. She’s still in that fucking dress. The one that shows every single curve of her lithe body. It makes her look like a grown-up, someone I could do all the dirty things I frequently imagine doing to her.
“Get out.” I seriously cannot deal with her. I’m not ready. I need more information. I need to get behind a fucking computer!
She doesn’t listen, though. She comes in, drifting ever closer, close enough for me to catch her ginger-peach scent. The one that seems to match the red glints in her coppery hair.
“I’m sick over what I did. What a mess I made of things. I... um… I’ve been trying to figure out why I wasn’t upfront about bringing Alex to the game.”
I grind my molars and finally lift my icy gaze to hers. I even go so far as to take a few menacing steps in her direction.
She registers the threat, backing up toward the wall. I want to kick my own ass for scaring her, but pushing her away—keeping myself shut off from her allure—is imperative. I can’t let myself soften toward her. She’s already the hugest liability possible.
“Honestly?” Her fingers tangle together at her waist; she’s doing that fidgety thing she does when she’s nervous. “I think I was trying to get a rise out of you.”
My brain scrambles in disbelief.
Natasha is not the manipulative type. At least, I didn’t think so. She’s sweet and honest and giving.
“I hoped you’d be jealous and finally make a move.”
I’m suffocating suddenly by the friction of her words ricocheting inside my body. She hoped I’d...be jealous. And make a fucking move.
I close the distance between us, my hand grasping her throat as I push her up against the wall. Her green eyes widen, but I don’t have time to watch them dilate because my mouth crashes down on hers, taking everything I’ve wanted all these torturous months. It’s a brutal kiss. Punishment for all the agony she’s put me through. For what she’s still doing to me.
I lick between her lips to lash her with my tongue. I let my teeth scrape her lips, I suck her tongue into my mouth. She gives it back with passion. So much more eagerness than I expect or deserve.