“I can’t have you...because I’ll never let go.”
“You’re a coward, Mikhail,” she says with a slight shake in her voice as she flips to face me.
Tears distort her beautiful brown eyes.
I use my thumb to gently tug at her bottom lip where it’s tucked tightly between her teeth, as if choking back a sob. “Pretty girl, don’t cry.”
“I’m so stupid. I thought maybe after four years, things would be different. But you’re a disgrace to your name.”
Her words cut deeper than any physical pain I’ve ever endured.
CHAPTER 12
LEAH
The lobby is fairly quiet this early in the morning, especially after last night’s storm. From the corner of my eye, I see Mikhail’s hulking figure pacing furiously just outside the front entrance. Equipped with sound and weatherproof glass, I can only catch a whisper of his rage as he roars obscenities into the phone, evident by the veins protruding from his neck, even at a distance. Whoever is on the other end of that call is getting their ass handed to them. I want to care. I should, since I know he’s talking to his flight staff, and whatever news they’re giving him doesn’t seem good.
But sadly, I don’t.
I’m far too exhausted from the emotional whiplash that is Mikhail Petrov. The more time I spend with him, the more I want to fuck him, hold him—and stab him in the carotid.
Sighing, I shift my gaze away toward a brick fireplace. I’m close enough to feel the heat warm my cheeks, and it’s exactly what I need at that moment as I close my eyes and tune out the distant voice of the man driving me to the edges of my sanity.
Last night, he’d slept on a love seat, and a part of me, the one stupidly in love, couldn’t help feeling slightly guilty as his 6’4” massive frame dwarfed the large piece of furniture. I woke up to him contorted in a way that should have left him with the mother of all cricks in his neck.
Despite the disaster that occurred between us, I threw a fleece blanket over his body before heading to the bathroom.
“Glad to see you survived the storm.”
Conner’s unexpected voice catches me off guard. His tone is bright, though the bags painted beneath his eyes let me know his night wasn’t all that restful.
“I did. Did you end up crashing in the lobby after all?”
He sticks his hands in his pockets and sways as he nods. “Wasn’t so bad. They were nice enough to give me a blanket.”
“I’m glad,” I say, flashing him a friendly smile. “Are you heading out?”
“Got word the roads should be cleared in about an hour.”
His fidgeting becomes more apparent. He’s nervous, mouth thinning as if he’s debating a question he’s unsure he should ask. Surely, he isn’t thinking of asking for my number. While Mikhail and I don’t behave like a couple, it’s pretty bold of him to assume otherwise. But I remain quiet and patient so he can get on with it. Maybe this is why I’ve always preferred older men—and when I say older, I mean only Mikhail—because guys my age are so immature and indecisive. Or maybe I’m just hopelessly biased since indecision seems to be a trend in my life, regardless of the source.
Conner scratches the back of his head and draws a breath. “That guy you’re here with...are you two—”
“Why don’t you fucking stutter some more? Maybe she’ll understand you better.”
Mikhail’s harsh words startle Conner, who cringes and whirls back to where my partner stands against the door, leveling him with a murderous glare.
Rolling my eyes, I push to my feet and stand between them. “Don’t take your bad mood out on others, Mikki. Conner here was just about to invite me to breakfast.”
Maybe using this poor kid to fuck with Mikhail is low, especially as his eyes widen and ping between us in a panic. But I’m feeling particularly petty.
“Was he now?”
“Uh, no...I-I was just saying goodbye.”
Conner isn’t a small guy. He’s just a few inches shorter than the man plotting his death. But darkness lives in the eyes of the Petrov men and the way they carry themselves like predators among prey. Demanding respect and reverence while dominating every room they step foot in. I know that look all too well. It’s the same one I’ve been surrounded by my whole life.
Made men.
And like in every species, the strong sniff out the weak and vice versa.
“I have to get back to work. Hope you all make it to where you’re headed.” Conner spares me a half smile and retreats down a back hallway.
“Has anyone ever told you your people skills suck?”
Mikhail shrugs. “I don’t need people skills.”
Cocky bastard.
“So?” I ask as he moves with purpose toward the front desk. “When do we leave?”
“We don’t,” he deadpans.
I trail behind him. “What does that mean?”
Mikhail runs a hand through his hair, the stress evident in the harsh exhale fleeing his lungs.
