“The TV thing. I really want to watch it whenever I want.”
He laughed. “Tough negotiator.”
“And I have a career now. I model for—”
“I know.”
I raised a brow, and then suspicion set in and popped my bubble. I had doubts about how I got into the modeling industry so quickly, and it was confirmed by a single passing flicker in his eyes.
“I thought it was divine intervention,” I grumbled. “Now I know it was diabolic intervention.”
He chuckled.
“You really don’t have a problem with the modeling?”
“I don’t like the idea of the world staring at your body.” His eyes narrowed. “And if someone tells you to lose your ass, there’ll be a new missing person’s report added to the list. But if you like what you do, I’ll deal.”
I fought a smile. “That was a more aggressive response than I expected, but somehow more passive as well.”
“You won’t call me passive when we’re not on the street and you’re reminded of making me wait four months.”
I raised a brow. “I didn’t make you wait.”
“Theoretically,” he returned. “I configured how much space a woman would need from her kidnapper before he proposed to her.”
I laughed. “And you came up with four months?”
He ran a thumb across his upturned lip. “The results were inconclusive, so I waited until I couldn’t anymore.”
I pressed my face against his chest, soaking in his smell I’d missed so much. I couldn’t stop myself from saying it again. “Ya lyublyu tebya.”
He made a noise of satisfaction. “Ya byl tyoim pervym I ya budu tvoim poslednim.” I was your first, and I will be your last.
“Don’t you want to know if I’ve been with anyone after you?”
“You haven’t.” The response was so confident, it told me one thing.
“Who was watching me?” I accused. “I would notice Albert. He’s bigger than a tree.”
“Viktor.” Ronan didn’t even look apologetic about having me stalked.
“And what would Viktor have done if I took a male model back to my place?”
“Thrown him into the ocean,” he said darkly.
“And what about you?” I asked with unease. I didn’t want to know, but I also needed to know. “Have you been with someone else?”
“No. You’ve truly fucked with my head.”
The relief soaked in and warmed my heart. “Always so romantic.”
“Any more stipulations?”
I sawed my lip between my teeth in consideration. “What about my papa? I’ve only gotten a text from him, but other than that, we aren’t in contact. But I could find him if I wanted to, and I don’t ever want you to ask me to do that.”
“I had a great dialogue lined up for this, kotyonok, but you ruined it by throwing yourself at me again.”
“You’re the one who flew to me,” I returned.
He smiled, then sobered and ran a thumb across my cheek. “I won’t ever use you again. I regret ever doing it in the first place. As far as I’m concerned, Alexei can live his life ruling some sad Siberian city. Are we done talking now?”
“Yes,” I breathed.
“Then let’s go home.”
He collected my box and interlinked his fingers with mine on the way to the car, with Khaos at our heels. I knew then I’d follow this man to the fiery gates of hell if he just held my hand.
scintilla
(n.) a tiny brilliant flash or spark; a small thing; a barely visible trace
Eight hours later, I glanced out the window of the private jet.
“Ronan . . . did Moscow get an Eiffel Tower of its own recently?”
“I would never allow that kind of romantic tourism in my city.”
“Huh,” I mused. “So why am I seeing the Eiffel Tower right now?”
“We’re in Paris,” he said indifferently.
And that had been his attitude the entire flight: indifferent. He and those stupid “Delicious!” sounds coming from his phone were driving me crazy. Albert wasn’t any better company. He was flipping through a Cosmo in the row of seats at the front of the plane.
I hadn’t seen Ronan in four months. I’d been burning up for eight hours waiting for him to touch me, kiss me, and drag me to the convenient bed in the back. But he hadn’t done any of that. When I got tired of waiting, I’d straddled his lap, ran my lips down his neck, and cupped his erection as it grew harder beneath my hand.
I thought I was finally going to get what I wanted, but then he shoved me off him to the couch and said, “I’m saving myself for marriage, kotyonok.”
I glared at him.
He thought it was funny.
Frustrated, I got up and sat on the couch across from him. I’d just keep Khaos company. He looked bored with me too, but at least he tolerated my presence.
“You’re cute when you’re pouting,” Ronan said.
I raised a brow. “You’re annoying when you’re pretending to be a gentleman.”
He gave me a heavy look that expressed so much but nothing I could understand.
We hadn’t said a word to each other after that until I noticed we weren’t in Moscow, where I thought we were going. I wanted to know why we were in Paris, though I held in my questions knowing Ronan would probably tell me we were here to see the tourist sites.
A car waited for us after we exited the plane. Khaos jumped into the front seat as soon as Ronan opened the door.
I stifled a laugh. “Looks like you’re in the back with me. I hope it doesn’t tempt your vow of celibacy.”
Ronan gave me a dark look, but he got into the back seat without complaint. While Albert drove us to a top-secret location, I ignored Ronan like he had me, though it became a much harder venture when he rested his hand on my bare thigh and slowly pushed up my dress to see what I wore beneath it. I guessed he’d been paying more attention to me than I thought. He knew what he would find.
Nothing.
Everyone knew thin material equaled panty lines.
Ronan made a rough noise and squeezed my upper thigh before pulling my dress back down. “You’d better pray there isn’t a strong wind nearby.”
“We’re in Paris. I’ll fit right in.”
He wasn’t impressed, so I kissed the annoyance off his lips.
As we drove through the streets of Paris, I sat on the edge of my seat to take in the sights. I’d never been to the city before, and while I was excited to return to Moscow, Paris was an experience I wouldn’t turn down.
A restaurant wasn’t exactly the destination I was expecting. Sure, I was hungry, but I didn’t want to sit and eat without knowing why we were here. Albert stayed in the car with Khaos while I followed Ronan inside. The impatient question was about to slip off my lips, though a woman drew my attention to a seat near the window.
She stared at me, her face as pale as snow. She was beautiful, even pushing into her late sixties and dressed in a drab white uniform that told me she was probably a maid. She watched me as tears spilled down her cheeks.
With an uneasy sensation filling me, I said, “Ronan . . .”