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“It’s getting pretty fucking close.”

She picks up her pants again, ready to tug them on when I chuckle, distracting her. “Lisichka, there are a lot of things you want to do to me, but killing me isn’t one of them. A woman obsessed with a man doesn’t do that.”

“A woman coming out of a dick fog obsession certainly does. And you’re fucking lucky I don’t want to sharpen my knife again tonight, or I’d show you just how true that statement is. And don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’re ignoring the part where I told you I’m not marrying you. Which is exactly the thing I needed to hear to clear up any notions that you and I are going to work.”

“Huh.”

“Huh what?” she practically snarls as she buttons her pants.

“I guess I just didn’t realize a hardened assassin would be so scared of a piece of paper.” I shrug. “I suppose we all have our fears.”

“Fears?” she gapes. “I am not afraid of anything.”

“Seems like you are. I mean, instead of standing here and talking to me, you’re getting ready to run. And to be honest, it’s probably best that we got this out of the way now. One word and you’re tucking tail and running? You’re right, we’re not going to work.”

I’m gambling a hell of a lot more than her right now, but I can’t take the words back. And I hope like hell I’m not about to lose it all.

48

LANE

Ican’t decide if I want to stab, strangle, or slap him. I’m trying to give him an out, and he wants to sit here and talk about this shit?

I know what he’s doing, but being stupid like I am, I can’t help rising to his bait. What the fuck is wrong with me? Why am I allowing this?

“I’m not tucking tail and running,” I snarl. “I’m simply leaving because this is clearly a giant mistake.”

“So… running.”

Yep, going to stab him—and somewhere very inconvenient. Maybe his ass cheek. Make sitting down really uncomfortable for a few weeks.

I struggle to keep my temper in check. What is it about this man that makes me lose my damn mind?

“You’re clearly delusional from the sex and heat of the bath. There’s no other explanation for mentioning marriage and all that other completely ridiculous bullshit. Who the hell does that to someone they’ve just met?”

“We’ve known each other for years, so we’re hardly new. It’s a natural next step. I mean, sure, we haven’t figured out how we’re going to manage our daily lives, but we’ll figure it out, right? People do arranged marriages all the time and make it work.”

“Arranged… Would you shut the hell up with all this marriage talk?” I scrub my hands over my face. I need to get a grip and take control of this conversation again. “Knows nothing about me and wants to marry me,” I mutter to myself, shaking my head. “And everyone calls me fucking crazy.”

“You are, but that doesn’t seem to stop me from wanting you. And of course I know nothing about you. You’re arguing with me instead of answering simple questions. Most women love when a man gives them their undivided attention.” He laughs ruefully. “And here I am with the one who will do anything possible not to talk to me. Most guys would give their left nut for that shit.”

“And what does that do for you? All the bullshit about knowing someone’s favorite food or color means shit in real life. And you’ll excuse me for not divulging information that can be used against me.”

“Yes, because that’s rational. Sorry, but I can’t tell you my woman’s favorite color because she thinks you’ll then use it to reel her in like a damn crow with something shiny.” The calm facade is starting to crack, and his exasperation is showing. “The dinner thing, sure, someone could use that by poisoning it, but what kind of life is that, Lane? Always running around, thinking someone is out to get you? Isn’t that fucking tiring?”

He has no idea. Maybe that’s what finally pushes me over the edge.

“That, that right there is the problem. That is my life, Ilya. It has been since I was given to that fucking school. I have very few memories of what life was like before someone was always trying to kill me. Maim me. Use me. And you will never get it because you’ve had a very cushy life compared to that. Sure, you had that kidnapping attempt when you were ten, and Zakhar was twelve, but you were held for, what, two hours before your father and his men swooped in to get you out?” I sneer. “Do you know what I was doing in those two hours, pet? I was locked away in a fucking cell, bleeding from every fucking hole, because I didn’t master something right the first time, and embarrassing the man training me in front of Pasha Antonov.”

His eyes widen and his body stiffens. “What?”

I’m on a roll, and now that I’m talking, I can’t seem to stop. Even as my brain is screaming at me to shut the fuck up. The lid is off, and there is no stopping.

“Is that the kind of thing you want to know, Ilya? Is that what you’re hoping I’ll tell you? All the horrors of my life and childhood? Something to keep in the back of your mind for when I’m not falling in line or listening to you? When I refuse to follow an order just because you decree it? Use it as leverage to keep me in line? Or use me for whatever plans you have?”

He opens his mouth to answer, but I’m not done. Not even close.

“So yes, talking is not something I’m going to fucking do easily. Yes, I’m always going to be wondering what someone’s angle is. Because that has been my entire fucking life, Ilya. Is it tiring? Maybe, but I know nothing different. And while I want to kick some sense into you, I’ll also thank you for this lovely conversation and for putting all of this into perspective for me. Thinking that any of this was ever going to work as something other than some great sex was a big mistake. A big, fucking mistake.”