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“In Colombia,” he said, sucking on my skin, his hands tightening on my hips.
I suppressed a moan, forcing myself to stay still. I focused on his words, wondering why my supposed father was in Colombia.
“How did you get the pictures?” I breathed out. “Did you snoop in my drawers?”
“I don’t need to snoop to get your panties, Sofiya.”
I gasped. “Screw you.”
In a sudden buzz, he turned me around, pushing me against the door. A sob escaped my lips as his tall figure loomed over me, blocking my view. His closeness made it hard to think, his eyes drilling into mine.
I let go of the book, and it fell to the floor as I placed my hands on his hard chest, urging him to give me space. Heat surged through me as my fingers brushed against his skin. Still only wearing a tank top, his well-defined chest was visible, but I resisted the urge to touch. He grabbed my wrists, pinning them against the door, above my head.
Well, slap me with a copy of Fifty Shades of Grey, what the hell is going on?
Anger flushed my cheeks as I tried to fight back, but he tightened his grip, overpowering any attempt at self-defense.
“Are you always an asshole, or do I get special treatment?” I snapped.
“Are you always a bitch?” he shot back.
“Yes,” I responded through clenched teeth.
The fire in my heart burned my chest, and I’ve never wanted to hit someone so badly before.
He let out a genuine laugh, releasing me.
“Good to know.”
I couldn’t help but notice the way his hands trembled slightly. Letting my eyes wander over his body, I tried to make out his tattoos, but could only decipher some stars, numbers, and Russian sentences, along with what looked like two silhouettes walking in a dark alley.
“We’re heading to Moscow tomorrow,” he said. “I expect you to behave, Sofiya. Don’t make me repeat it.”
Then he slightly pushed me aside to open the door.
Pausing with one hand on the knob, he glanced back at me, raising an eyebrow and curling his lip.
“Don’t try anything stupid in here. I’d hate for you to get hurt,” he said with a mischievous wink.
Then the door slammed shut behind him.
Chapter
Thirteen
“Only enemies speak the truth; friends and lovers lie endlessly, caught in the web of duty.”
? Stephen King
Volk
I stood at the foot of the staircase, adjusting my tie, feeling like I’d waited an eternity for our little princess to make her grand entrance.
We were supposed to leave much sooner, but she seemed to be taking her sweet time. Twisting my watch, I checked the time again: 09:35.
Last night, I managed less than four hours of sleep, disturbed by yet another stormy dream filled with ominous whispers and faint moans lingering in my ears.
In the shower, I let the warm water soothe my skin, trying to wash away not just the scent but the vivid memory of a fiery brunette who occupied my thoughts relentlessly.
