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“Wiping the earth of petulance is easy,” he runs his finger down my cheek, “but a woman like you…that’s a language I can’t begin to understand.”
“The world sees you as a little unhinged and brutally savage.” I shift closer and breathe in his scent. “But that doesn’t tell the whole story because you clearly have an incredible well of kindness. A humanity that I didn’t expect.”
“Feel free to keep that observation to yourself.”
Wild laughter erupts from my chest as he cups my cheeks in both hands. “What—”
“You can stop me if you want to.”
I hold his gaze and feel his breath fan over my face. His dark eyes grip a part of my heart I’ve always tried to keep protected.
“If you don’t say something—”
Leaning forward, I press my mouth to his and feel this thumb run over my cheekbone gently. How could such a ruthless man kiss so beautifully?
My body flushes with heat, and blood rushes through my veins, making the last several hours of panic disappear.
He nudges my lips with his tongue, and I part for him, tasting a hint of mint. It’s slow with no urgency. I want to savor every second and disregard my Grandmother’s instructions.
Pulling away despite my body screaming for more, I scan his rugged features and see a desire that matches mine. “That’s one way to make me forget my troubles.”
“Lina, your troubles are now mine.”
The timbre of his deep voice sends a shiver down my spine, and I wonder why this man would willingly stand between me and a past I don’t understand?
He lifts me to my feet and then stands. “I will meet you in the living room.”
Nodding blindly, I feel reality rudely smash its way back to center stage and wish I could focus on the amazing kiss, not the ominous warning in the letter.
Five minutes later, I walk out of the bedroom and see Yuri sitting on the couch with the letter in his large hands. His coat is hung on the back of the chair, and the shadow of his tattoos is evident beneath his snow-white shirt.
Swallowing, I remind myself that I’m in mortal danger and fantasizing needs to be saved for another time. “My Russian is rusty, but I think I got the gist of the letter.”
He looks up and holds my gaze. “Come and sit.”
“Should I grab the vodka?” He doesn’t reply, so I snatch the bottle and two small emerald-green glasses off the side table. “As a child, I always preferred to have the bandage ripped off.”
He takes the bottle out of my hand, fills a glass, and hands it to me. “It can’t be worse than I think.”
“Do you have any memories of your life in Russia?”
“That’s a leading question.” I sit beside him and take a bracing gulp. “Does that mean the end is near?”
“Lina, the end is never near when I’ve still got breath in my body.”
“That’s very comforting.” I take another sip. “But why would you bother keeping me safe.” Shooting back the last of the vodka, I lean against the sofa. “You must have women throwing themselves at your feet constantly.”
“I make it a practice not to look down.”
“I respect that.” After refilling my glass, I move to the window. “I own this apartment outright. Mama bought it the year we arrived in the States. When she took her meds, she worked as a translator at the University. Russian, French, and Spanish. I remember a pink room filled with stuffed toys and a large man with a beard. Loud voices. And an older woman who smelled like peppermint. I don’t know if any of it is accurate or just something my mind created to fill the white space.”
Yuri joins me at the window. “Tell me what you know?”
“You are Anastasia Alina Tarasov.”
I press my hand against my thundering heart, too stunned to respond.
“Your father was a powerful and respected oligarch in Moscow. He left his estate to you, and half a dozen men will fly in next week to convince you to marry them so their families can gain control of the real estate holdings.”
