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“As if you care,” he sneered.
“Look, I may have stayed away,” Marissa said desperately. The last thing she wanted was for Viktor to think that she didn’t care for him. “But Maia kept me informed of your progress.”
“I know. She told me,” Viktor said.
“You weren’t supposed to know.”
“Maia was afraid I’d become a soulless bastard again, and made sure that I knew that you gave a damn about me.” He snorted with a trace of bitterness. “Though I really wonder.”
“I still love you,” Marissa whispered huskily.
Viktor’s face contorted in pain and he swiftly closed the distance between them. He grabbed her shoulders, looking at her with a mixture of anger and something else. “Then why didn’t you come back? You fucking swore, Marissa. That’s why I waited for you to come to terms with what I did.” His voice turned hoarse. “And waited. Then I hear from Yeager that you took a six-month assignment in Morocco.”
When Marissa didn’t say anything, he shook her gently, his eyes pleading. “Will you ever get past what I did? What you said about me not loving you enough and putting you through the agony of watching me die made me look real hard into myself. I can say without any doubt, that I did it because I couldn’t live without you. The chances of me surviving were better, so I boosted yours with the atropine. I’m too stubborn to die on you, Marissa. Come back to me, kitten.”
The doorbell rang.
“That’s the taxi,” Marissa took in a ragged breath. “I have to go. Your timing couldn’t be worse. I don’t hate you anymore, and I was meaning to come back to you. Hell, it only took me a week to realize how wrong I was, but I lost my nerve. I—I was too ashamed to face you.”
Viktor inclined his head, his face relaxed. He dropped his hands from her shoulders and strode to the door.
Wait. Was he just leaving?
Marissa felt her temper flare.
She heard him tell the driver that his services were no longer required and handed him several bills.
Her temper hit the roof.
“What are you doing?” Marissa screeched. “You better have your car, Viktor, because you’ve just signed up to be my driver.”
“You’re not leaving for Morocco.”
“What? What?”
“I told Yeager to let the CIA station in Morocco know that you’ve changed your mind.”
Marissa was pretty sure her jaw hit the floor. Of all the arrogant, manipulative, autocratic . . . and yet she freaking loved the man.
He approached her warily. “I meant it when I said I would fight for you, even if the person I have to fight is you.” He sighed heavily. “I couldn’t let you leave.”
“So your answer is to make decisions for me again?”
“And why not?” he shot back, his jaw tensing. “You keep making the wrong ones. You let that stubborn head of yours get between us, and it’s getting aggravating.”
“I’ll show you how stubborn I am,” Marissa fired back. She pulled out her phone to call Yeager. Viktor grabbed her phone and threw it hard against the wall and it smashed into a thousand pieces—and put a dent in the plaster.
Marissa saw a haze of red. “That was my agency phone! You freaking caveman!” She pushed him aside and knelt by the fragmented pieces trying to figure out if she could put it back together.
Viktor was staring bemusedly at what he’d done and muttered, “Déjà vu.”
“What are you talking about?” Marissa replied irritably as she got up and faced him.
“The first time you left me? Eight years ago, I smashed my phone.” Viktor’s eyes had turned ink, almost feral. His face outlined by determination. “I let you go. Eight years of hell, Marissa. Not a single day has passed that my skin hasn’t burned for you.”
Marissa took a step back, her hand involuntarily clasping her throat. “What are you going to do about it?”
“I’m done,” he said. Reaching out, he wrapped his fingers around her neck and pulled her closer. Their lips were almost touching, but he didn’t kiss her.
