Page 7 of Savage Truce

Unable to make myself leave, I ask, “I love the smell and how peaceful it feels in here. Would you mind if I stayed?”

Surprise flashes over her face, her eyes widening. “You want to sit here? In my workshop? Didn’t Sofia invite you backstage?”

“She did, but I’m not interested in her.” Not wanting to miss any chance I might have with Anastasia, I don’t beat around the bush and admit, “I would much rather spend time with you.”

She blinks as if I just told her pigs fly, then her lips part, and she sounds a little breathless as she replies, “Oh. Ah… sure.” Looking frazzled, she walks toward the costumes but then stops and asks, “Can I get you anything to drink or eat?” She gestures at the door. “From the party.”

“I’ll have whatever you’re having.” I sit down again, my gaze following the woman I intend to get to know a hell of a lot better as she rushes out of the room.

Shrugging off the jacket again, I rest it over the back of the chair before pulling my phone out and sending Andrei another text.

Rodian: I won’t be out anytime soon. I met a woman and will stay as long as she lets me.

Andrei: I’m leaving to get food. Sergei will be stationed outside.

Yeah, I’m definitely not letting this chance slip through my fingers. I still have a week in London, and with a little luck I’ll be able to get Anastasia to go on a few dates with me.

CHAPTER 3

Anastasia

I stop at the end of the hallway and glance back, stunned out of my mind that the attractive man from the audience would rather spend time with me than Sofia.

When Oliver brought him to my workshop, I did a double take, completely caught by surprise.

It doesn’t help that he’s even hotter up close. I’ve never felt so tongue-tied and drawn to a man in all my life. My fingers still tingle from when I got to touch him.

And God, does he smell good.

I couldn’t inhale enough of his rich, woody scent layered with spice, rugged masculinity, and a hint of danger.

Placing my hand over my stomach that’s doing cartwheel after cartwheel, I suck in a deep breath.

Irene’s laughter rips me out of the stupor I’m caught in, and I hurry to where everyone is enjoying the party.

Spotting a serving plate that’s already empty, I pick it up and grab a few mini sausage rolls, cocktail sandwiches, and crackers with some Brie. I load quite a few pigs in blankets because they’re my favorite, and the next second Sofia says, “Perfect choice of food for you.”

Ignoring the barb, I help myself to Cornish pasties, chicken skewers, and roasted salted cashew nuts.

Stopping at the drinks table, I tilt my head, not sure what to get my… unexpected guest.

He looks wealthy.

Not beer. Right?

I set down the serving plate and decide to pour him a tumbler of whiskey and also get a couple of bottles of water and two Cokes. He’s bound to like one of the drinks.

Taking my haul, I spare some of the staff a smile, and walking back to my workshop, I try to ignore the spinning in my stomach that’s intensifying with every step I take.

“Anastasia,” Sofia calls out.

I don’t stop walking, but instead, just glance over my shoulder.

Near my door, she snidely says, “Remember that hot guy in the audience you were staring at earlier?”

Crap. She’s speaking loud enough for said man to hear.

Before my lips can part to reply, she saunters closer, a smug smile plastered on her face. “He has agreed to meet me after the party.” She looks me up and down as if I’m nothing more than a piece of shit stuck under her shoe. “It must be so lonely for you, only having food to keep you company, but that’s okay, you can live vicariously through me. I’ll tell you –” Suddenly she makes a choking sound, and her eyes go wide as saucers as she stares past me.