“Are you okay?” he whispers, as if he doesn’t want to speak too loudly and scare me into not answering.
“My brother had a few things to say about my decision-making skills. I think he’s not talking to me now. Which is pretty much par for the course.”
He lifts one hand off my hips and brushes my cheek with his fingers. “What else is wrong?”
Do I tell him my body is still throbbing for him? Do I tell him I miss my home and the couple of people I consider a friend? I miss my family, and my house, and curling up with ice cream on a Friday night to watch reality TV. I miss my routine. Most of all, I miss this man’s biting words and bossy tone. I’m sure as hell not admitting that to him.
His arms tighten around me and let our bodies mold together. Every inch of us is touching and reminding me of all the ways he’s touched me since the moment we met.
Instead of answering his question, I deflect. “Why are you being so nice to me? I’m not telling my brother about what happened between us.”
His tone takes on a defensive edge. “I can be nice.”
I choose not to remind him of all the times he was decidedly not nice. “You can be nice if whatever act you have going on requires it.”
He stiffens behind me, and I latch on to his wrists near my belly button, fearing he’ll leave too soon.
“If we are throwing around accusations, you are even less nice than I am.”
I stifle a chuckle. “I never claimed to be nice. In fact, I’ve made it my mission to be as unpleasant to you as possible.”
“Mission accomplished then.” There’s a whisper of humor in his tone, and I can’t help but smile.
His phone dings loudly, interrupting the moment. He checks it and mutters, “Kai,” like a curse.
My brother’s name is enough to make me pull away. “You better go. I’m sure you have new damsels to look after. Other people to torment.”
Even in the dark, I can read the confusion on his face. The way his eyes scan my features looking for the truth, or the joke.
It’s time to end this. Cut it off now before it hurts too much in the future. I never let my attachments go on long enough to hurt. “Besides, my fiancé will keep me safe from now on, once I get out of here.”
My barb hits home. He slides off the bed and doesn’t bother looking back at me before slamming the door behind him.
His leaving digs into my chest, a sharp ache to match the languorous one pulsing through my body from his touch. It’ll ebb in time, and the more distance I can get, the better.
I hop off the edge of the bed, dig through my bags to consolidate, and pin down the one I’ll need to get out of here and back to my life.
I can’t keep living like this, especially with my brother thinking I’ll stay under his thumb.
I dig my phone out of the blankets and use the browser to make some arrangements.
It’s too soon to seek my fiancé’s protection, and too late to go to Michail. It’s time to do this on my own.
19
MICHAIL
She pushed me away, so I went. Even seeing through her words, I go, because she wants me to. Which doesn’t explain why sneaks out of her room in the early morning hours and I simply allow it.
I know damn well she’s not racing off to marry Emmanuelle, so what is she up to? Either way, I can’t leave her to her own devices, not when she’s determined to meet the business end of a gun if she keeps racing off like an idiot.
I’m good at following people, and she’s not exactly hiding as she lugs one big bag down the stairwell and out the fire door leading to the garage attached to the building. I wait for her to get some distance and follow into the garage.
She hops into the back of an SUV, and I rush to my own sedate black two door. It’s not fancy since fancy isn’t great for keeping tabs on people. Fancy draws more attention than I like. Besides, I have better toys deeper in the garage.
I follow her vehicle through traffic, and I take way too long to realize we’ve started the lengthy drive to Chicago. It’s a good thing I always keep my tank filled, or I would have lost her on the road.
I park a few cars down from her townhouse, where she stops and climbs out. The SUV heads off without her, and I curse her idiocy as she races up her brownstone steps without even looking around for danger.
I’m exhausted from the drive, flexing my hands on the steering wheel, trying to stir life into my extremities.