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I hold my breath, wanting to hear the answer.Yes, and what about me?
But instead of Demyen’s deep voice answering, he opens the door to the closet. I’m immediately met with his glare and I flinch.
He looksfurious.
“The fuck, Bam?” Demyen lunges forward and grabs the zip-tie around my wrists. “The hell did you do this for?”
“You said?—”
“I know what I said.” He mutters something under his breath about words being open to interpretation and takes out a switchblade from his suit pocket. In the blink of an eye, the tie snaps apart and I’m free to rub my sore wrists. Even though Bambi had been careful, the plastic still bit into my skin. He’s quick to cut my ankle tie as well, then he closes the knife before reaching up to undo my gag.
When our eyes meet, he pauses. I would give anything to know what thoughts are flowing through his mind as he stares at my face, his fingers slowly untying the handkerchief knot at the back of my head.
“She wasn’t going to shout for Martin.” When he pulls the gag away, his hand reaches up to cup my face. “Right?”
All I can do is nod.
I don’t begrudge Bambi for her idea. She had a solid point—it’s better for Martin to think me a victim than a traitor.
But I have to confess, even if just to myself, there’s a warm spark of reassurance in the way Demyen is caring for me right now. He lowers his hand, but only to take mine and help me to my feet.
“Shut the dinner down.” He turns to Bambi as we leave the closet. “I want everyone gone in fifteen minutes. Make up whatever excuse you need to.”
She nods and quickly leaves to go carry out his orders, leaving us alone, save for the guards still sprinkled through the halls and walkways.
Demyen stares at me for a moment. Then he takes my hand and leads me through the hall. I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything at all, but it’s just as well. The heat that spreads from our hands through my body is far too distracting to focus on anything else.
When we reach one of the marble fountains that has a wide bench wrapped around it, he sits me down and then settles onto the cool marble next to me.
“So…” He looks up at the stars. “I met your ex.”
“Yeah.”
“Interesting guy.”
I snort. I can’t help it. “You’re not going to insult me by being honest.”
“Then let me correct myself: he’s a fucking asshole.” Demyen lowers his gaze to stare at me again. “How did a woman like you end up with garbage like him?”
I’m way too nervous to ask him for clarification.A woman like me?“He wasn’t always that bad.” Which is true. There’s no way I would have ever gone on a date, or several, with anobviousasshole.
“Was that back when he had hair?”
Now, we both snort with laughter, trying our best to keep our faces straight. Demyen puts on a good front as this Big Bad Bratva Boss with all his men and guns and demanding, commanding presence… but moments like this are what make me wonder just how bad he really is. His dry sense of humor, his soft spot for damsels in distress…
“Do you ever think of going back to him?”
“Absolutely the fuck not.” I snap the words before I can remind myself to watch it with this man. But he doesn’t yell at me or scold me for having an attitude. He simply nods, so I sigh and tack on a better explanation. “I’ve thought about it, yeah. It always involves a lot of blood, a few knives, and one of us dead on the floor.”
Demyen’s brow arches a tick. “You lose fights in your own daydreams?”
“Only sometimes. But either way, it’s obvious I can’t go back. I never will. I refuse to put Willow through that hell again.”
“Where would you go? If you could leave here.”
If you could leave here…Like I need another reminder of how I’m basically his prisoner. I shrug and sigh. “Depends on how far I could get. Pay our way to disappear. Maybe Alaska. Willow loves the snow.”
His mouth twitches at the mention of Willow. “How would you get there? In this daydream plan of yours.”
