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As I walk out of the art building, the sight of Alexei leaning against the bumper of the Range Rover with his arms folded across his chest should have had me crumbling with desire.
He looks gorgeous in his black pants and white shirt, which he’s rolled up to his elbows to expose those muscular forearms.
I don’t miss the way a few of the girls in my class pass by us, their eyes lingering on Alexei.
I shoot them a glare, which makes Alexei chuckle.
“I’m surprised you weren’t waiting outside the classroom.” I smooth my hands over my sundress.
“I thought about it.”
“There’s an art show being held nearby on Friday that I want to go to.”
“No.” He pushes off the hood of the car to stalk toward me.
“It’s literally being held at a small venue ten minutes away. Most of the class is going?—”
“My answer is no.”
“Why?” I fold my arms across my chest.
“It’s too dangerous.” He mirrors my body language.
I shake my head, trying to shake off my desire to run my fingertips over those powerful forearms.
“What if you came with me? Or Micah? Or the whole fucking Koslov family, I don’t care. Just please, let me go.”
“No.”
“You didn’t even think about it.”
“There’s nothing to think about. It’s too dangerous, and I won’t compromise on your safety.”
“It’s a fucking art show!” I throw my hands up in the air.
Alexei glares at me as his eyes dart around.
I don’t give a flying fuck if I’m making a scene.
“It’s not like I’m asking to come into the city with you. It’s in Queens, for fucks sake!”
“We can discuss this when we get home.” He reaches to take my arm, but I step back. “Bianca, get in the car.”
“No.”
His eyes flash.
“If I have to throw you over my shoulder and put you in the car, I will.” `
I shrug, refusing to budge. “Let me go to the art show.”
I take another step back.
Alexei’s restraint seems to snap, and I’m not fast enough to escape his grip.
He wraps his hand around my wrist and pulls me to him, bowing his head to whisper in my ear, “Stop acting like a fucking child and get in the damn car.”
His breath tickles my neck, and I have to fight the urge to lean into him, reveling in the power in his voice.
