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“In this weather? Are you crazy? You’ll catch a cold,” he scolded.
I clenched my teeth, frustrated by his sudden concern. “I’ll be fine,” I snapped, my breath forming mist in the chilly air.
Volk shook his head, clearly exasperated. “You never think before you act, do you?”
“Why do you even care?” I retorted, hurt evident in my voice.
His expression remained stern. “I don’t, but it’s still my job to keep you safe.”
I rolled my eyes, knowing he was being insincere. Despite our tension, I saw the worry in his eyes. “Don’t act like you’re doing me a favor. You just love being in control.”
Volk’s jaw tightened. “Hell yes, I do. Someone has to be responsible around here.”
“You’re not responsible for me, Volk. Please, leave. I can take care of myself.”
“Well, clearly you’re not doing a great job of it,” he said, gesturing at me.
My teeth chattered, and I shivered as I hugged myself tighter. Going outside without a coat had been a mistake, but my pride wouldn’t let me admit it, especially not to him.
“Leave me alone.”
Volk stepped closer, his body inches from mine. “Get inside before you freeze to death, Sofiya.”
Exhausted and overwhelmed by my emotions, I could no longer muster the energy to argue.
Reluctantly, I pushed myself to stand, my knees trembling with the effort. Volk extended his hand, and despite my initial resistance, I accepted it, feeling an unexpected jolt at his touch. I pulled my hand away almost immediately, stepping back. His gaze followed the movement, traveling from my hand to my face and lingering on my lips before he cleared his throat. There was something unspoken in his eyes that seemed like he wanted to say something, but it faded as quickly as it had appeared.
As we walked back to the house, I wondered what it would be like if things were different between us. What if we could set aside our differences?
But I quickly dismissed those thoughts, knowing they were impossible.
Our mutual animosity ran too deep.
He opened the kitchen door and gently guided me inside, away from the cold. The comforting aroma of soup welcomed us, and my stomach growled with hunger. The warmth of the house enveloped me like a loving embrace, and I let out a contented sigh.
He motioned for me to follow him to the living room. “Take a seat,” he said, pointing to the chairs. “Dasha will bring you some soup. After that, I want you to go upstairs. I’ll run you a bath.”
My eyes widened. “A bath?”
“Yes,” he said. “It’ll warm you up quickly.”
“Are you serious?”
He paused, his brow furrowing. “I’m not messing with you. You’re shivering like crazy. You need to warm up.”
I studied him for a second, confused.
“Are you bipolar or something? One minute you’re yelling at me, and the next you’re offering to run me a bath.”
He gave a small smile. “Nyet, I’m not bipolar. I just don’t like seeing you suffer unnecessarily. Now eat your soup.”
With that, he left the room.
Butterflies fluttered in my stomach at his unexpected concern.
I just don’t like seeing you suffer unnecessarily.
I took my seat, and Dasha served me red beet soup with an apologetic smile. She gave my shoulder a quick pat before leaving.
