AllFreeNovel
Share Us
For a moment, I'm tempted to tell her everything. About Miron, about the charges, about the lengths I'm going to in order to protect him. But I hold back. She's not ready for that level of involvement. Not yet.
"Nothing you need to concern yourself with," I say instead, my tone brooking no argument. "Just make sure the conference room is prepared and refreshments are available."
Sydney nods, but I can see the wheels turning behind those captivating eyes. She's piecing things together, faster than I anticipated. It's both impressive and dangerous.
I need to be more careful around her. But with every passing minute, I'm finding that easier said than done.
"I think that's enough for now," I say abruptly, needing to put some distance between us before I do something rash. "Take a break, familiarize yourself with the grounds. We'll continue this afternoon."
Sydney looks up, surprise evident on her face. "Oh, alright. Thank you, mister… I mean, Avros."
The sound of my name on her lips sends a jolt of electricity through me. I clench my fists at my sides, fighting the urge to pull her into my arms.
"You're welcome," I manage, my voice gruffer than intended. "And Sydney?"
She pauses at the door, looking back at me with those mesmerizing green eyes. "Yes?"
"Remember what I said. You're mine now. Don't forget it."
A shiver runs through her, visible even from across the room. Fear? Excitement? Both? I can't be sure. But the sight of it stokes the fire burning in my veins.
As Sydney leaves, closing the door softly behind her, I sink into my chair with a groan. What the hell am I doing? This woman isa complication I can't afford, not with Miron's trial looming and my enemies circling like vultures.
And yet, I can't bring myself to regret bringing her into my world. The thought of letting her go, of never seeing those green eyes flash with defiance or watching that lush mouth curve into a smile... it's unthinkable.
I'm playing a dangerous game, one with stakes higher than I've ever encountered. But as I replay every moment of our interaction, every fleeting touch and loaded glance, I can't help but think:
Some games are worth the risk.
5
Sydney
The knife glides effortlessly through the crisp vegetables, the rhythmic chopping a soothing balm to my frayed nerves. For a moment, I can almost pretend I'm back in my tiny apartment kitchen, preparing a simple meal after a long day of classes and work. But the gleaming stainless steel surfaces and state-of-the-art appliances surrounding me are a stark reminder of my new reality.
I'm not just Sydney Reeves, struggling grad school art student anymore. I'm... what, exactly? Avros Petrov's personal assistant? His prisoner? His...
I shake my head, banishing the dangerous thought before it can fully form. Focus on the task at hand, I tell myself. Dinner. Just dinner.
The kitchen door swings open silently, and I nearly jump out of my skin when I turn to find Avros leaning against the counter,watching me with those intense steel-blue eyes. The knife slips in my grip, and I barely avoid slicing my finger.
"Careful,krasotka," Avros mutters, a hint of disapproval in his voice. "I'd hate to see you hurt yourself."
I swallow hard, willing my racing heart to slow. "You startled me," I manage, hating how breathy my voice sounds. "I didn't hear you come in."
Avros's lips curl into a smirk. "I move quietly. It's a useful skill in my line of work."
The casual reference to his "work" sends a chill down my spine. A stark reminder of who he really is, of the danger I'm in. And yet, I can't deny the thrill that courses through me at his proximity. There’s an electric prickle on the back of my neck when he moves, and every time his vivid eyes dart over my body, I feel like my body is going to explode into a ball of blue flames.
"I hope you like beef stroganoff," I say, desperate to break the charged silence. "It's one of the few Russian dishes I know how to make."
Avros raises an eyebrow, looking genuinely surprised. "You know how to make stroganoff?"
I shrug, feeling oddly self-conscious. "My grandmother was Russian. She taught me a few recipes before she passed."
Something flickers in Avros's eyes. Recognition? Maybe even approval? But it's gone before I can decipher it. "I look forward to tasting it," he says simply.
I smile, but he doesn’t return it, so I turn back around and address the food I’m preparing. As I return to my cooking, I'm acutely aware of Avros's presence behind me. He doesn't speak,content to watch me work in silence. The weight of his gaze is like a physical touch, raising goosebumps on my skin.
