I chuckle weakly and press a kiss to his neck. “Deal.”
The night is quiet, and we sit in each other’s arms, letting the heat of the water keep us warm. Being here with him, like this, is almost like a dream.
“What happens tomorrow?”
Mikhail kisses the top of my head. He knows I’m not talking about the drop. My fears lie in the world beyond this place, waiting to tear us apart.
“Tomorrow, you’re mine. Always mine.”
He shifts me and kisses along my shoulder. “I want you to trust me. There’s no going back. I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you that the only way we’ll ever be apart again is in death.”
Goosebumps explode over my skin as he trails snow down my chest and between my breasts.
“Even then, I’ll come find you.”
“You promise?” I whisper, closing my eyes as the exquisite sensation of ice rolls around my nipple.
“Always.”
He laps at the hard peak, warming my skin with his tongue.
“Feels so good,” I say, reaching back, my fingers in his hair. “More.”
Another small clump of snow traces my breast, circling and forcing my head to loll on his shoulder.
“You’re not the only one willing to die happy.” Mikhail slides from beneath me and flips me over, pushing my chest onto the snowy deck. “I can’t think of a better way to atone for my sins than getting there through your sweet cunt.”
CHAPTER 18
LEAH
By the time I woke up this morning, Mikhail was gone. He left a text saying he’d be back by 10 a.m. and to meet him at the cafe for breakfast. Our flight is scheduled for noon, and while we still have a good two hours, I can’t help feeling anxious. There’s a heaviness in my chest I can’t shake, but it’s probably because he hasn’t answered any of my calls or texts.
Baby, where are you?
I try his cell again, and it goes straight to voicemail this time. Panic begins setting in.
I spring to my feet, not sure where the hell I’m going, but I need to move. I need to feel like I’m doing something—anything to burn this adrenaline.
Mikhail knows no one here. I can’t think of a single thing he’d be doing that would keep him away from his phone, much less have it turned off.
Something’s wrong.
When I whip around, I slam into what feels like a brick wall. Hands grip my shoulders to the point of pain.
Fuck. Did one of the men from last night find me?
As I reach for my firearm, I see a familiar face staring down at me. Dark eyebrows pinched with annoyance.
“Carlo?”
Carlo is my dad’s right-hand man. He’s been his partner-slash-bodyguard for years. But what the fuck is he doing here?
Another rush of blood plummets to my toes when I peer around the massive body holding me prisoner.
Papá.
“What...what are you doing here?” I stutter, staring between them in disbelief.
“I think I should be asking you the same, no?”
My father’s glare roots me in place. And I suddenly feel like I’m sixteen again. Powerless and entirely at his mercy.
“Do you have any idea the shit I had to pull to find you?”
Carlo steps aside so my father can advance on me, finally releasing his death grip on my arms. However, I’m not sure which of the two is worse. “Why are you here?”
“Again, that’s my question for you.”
My father’s eyes fall to my neck, nostrils flaring at the telltale redness marking my skin. He shakes his head and narrows his steely gaze, looking at me like I’m the biggest disappointment of his life.
“You’ve done nothing but sabotage yourself at every turn.” Clenching his teeth, he lowers his voice. “You know how hard it will be to find a decent man for you to marry at your age and when you’ve already been tainted by God knows how many. And now, that fucking Russian bastard, Petrov. I knew I should have taken care of that problem years ago the moment he set his eyes on you.” My father grabs my arm, in the same sore spot as Carlo, and I hiss in pain. “But I listened to your brother like a fool. I won’t make that mistake twice.”
As he starts dragging me, realization dawns, jolting me awake like a bucket of ice-cold water. With my pulse racing in anguish, I rip my hand from his grasp and stumble back.
“What did you do to him?” I hate how my voice shakes, but it’s not out of fear. It’s anger and the cloying waves of grief sitting heavy on my chest at the possibility of Mikhail being hurt...or worse.
