She turns her face to the side.
Splaying my fingers over her delicate jaw, I bring her gaze back to mine. My voice is thick with the desire and frustration I try to suppress. “You want me.”
And if I don’t get inside her soon, I’m going to blow up in more than a physical way. The distance she’s placing between us is driving me insane.
“Not like this,” she says, slamming her palms on my shoulders and shoving me off her.
I straighten with reluctance, unwillingly creating even more distance. The gap between us feels like a vacuum, as if all the air is being sucked out of the room.
Not meeting my eyes, she sits up and fastens her slacks.
I’m like a pressure cooker, the mounting steam threatening to shoot the lid through the roof. “Katerina.”
She looks at me again.
“Is this how you punish me? By withholding sex?” I home in on the heaving of her breasts under her sweater. “It’s a very effective method, I have to admit, but I wouldn’t advise you to go down that road. We both know this isn’t a game you’re going to win.”
“A game?” Her tone sharpens. “You think this is a game?”
On the contrary, this is serious. Just how serious, I’m not sure she fully comprehends. Nor do I wish to enlighten her. What’s the point of tormenting her with the knowledge that if she’s captured, my enemies will most likely torture her in the most despicable ways to draw me out of my stronghold?
“I don’t want it to be like this,” she says. “But you made your choice when you took away mine.”
I don’t like the way this conversation is going, not one bit. If she’s hinting at wanting to leave me, she can get that ridiculous idea out of her pretty little head.
It’s not going to fucking happen.
Ever.
Ignoring the way her beautiful eyes grow large, I step between her legs, my hands balled into fists. It’s all I can do not to reach for her. Biting off every word, I make myself clear. “There is no longer a choice.”
“You knew.” She leans away, supporting her weight on her arms. “You knew this could happen.”
Feigning ignorance isn’t going to work. Not with me. I pin her with a stare. “So did you.”
She blinks. Emotions play over her stunning features. She’s expressive, my kiska. It has always been easy for me to tell what she thinks. That’s one of the things I love so much about her. With Katerina, I don’t have to worry about manipulations and games. She’s honest and straightforward. Maybe that’s what the problem is. She’s too honest, too good, to accept the ugly parts of my world.
An internal battle wages in her eyes. Yes, she knew what she was getting herself into when she agreed to move in with me. I’ve told her in not so many words that I’m a bad guy. True, I left out the gritty details of what goes on behind the closed doors of my empire. No one gets to where I am without blood on his hands, but there’s no point in burdening her with that fact.
“I…” She wets her lips with the tip of her tongue. “This isn’t what I expected.”
Placing my palms on either side of her body on the table, I close some of that unwanted distance. “We won’t be hiding forever.”
“It’s not the running or the hiding.”
My voice is gruff with the need clawing inside me. “Then what is it, kiska?”
Her features contort, the brave mask she’s wearing collapsing. “It’s being treated like a possession.”
The hurt etched in her expression hits me straight in the heart.
I get it. I’m not a foolish or insensitive man. Katerina is independent. Up until now, she’s made all her own decisions. She’s used to running her life and taking charge. In her relationship with her mother, she seems more of the adult, taking responsibility for her ailing parent, and as a nurse, she’s used to making decisions that mean the difference between life and death. Locking her up and taking away everything that gives her life meaning isn’t ideal, but it’s not for forever. It’s temporary and for her own good. She’ll understand eventually. She loves me. She told me so once, and I’m determined to hear those sweet words again. I’ll do whatever it takes to get them.
Except letting her go.
I’ve never begged for anything in my life, not even for bread when I was starving. She’s the first one to bring me to my knees. Pressing my forehead against hers, I say raggedly, “Let me touch you, kiska. Please.”
A sob catches in her throat. She shakes her head, brushing our hair together. “This isn’t me, Alex. This isn’t who I am.”
I clench my fingers so hard my nails dig into the table. “Tell me what to fucking do.”
“If you can’t give me freedom, give me time,” she says, gripping my wrist and moving it away to break the cage of my arms. “I need time and space.”
When she ducks under my arm and slides from the table, I don’t stop her. When she runs from the room, all but fleeing from me, I don’t go after her. I don’t acknowledge how much it hurts that she treats me like an enemy. Instead, I go in search of a bottle of vodka and give her the time and space she wants.
7
California, the United States
Oleg Pavlov presses the phone to his ear and walks to the edge of the terrace where he’s out of earshot. He drums his fingers on the rail as he waits for the call to connect, inconspicuously checking to see if his bodyguards are in place. Assured that they’re in position, he takes a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes the sweat from his brow.
What is taking the assassin so long? Acid burns in his stomach. This fucking ulcer is going to kill him.
Finally, Bes picks up.
Oleg cuts straight to the chase. “What did you do?”
“I do a lot of things on a daily basis,” the assassin says smoothly. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
Oleg glances over his shoulder to where his family is having breakfast. Lowering his voice, he grits out, “Alex Volkov should be dead by now. Instead, he’s running around St. Petersburg, very much alive.” Despite the control he’s forcing, his voice rises in volume. “And working very hard on finding out who’s behind the assassination attempt.”
When his wife, Annika, looks up, he gives her a smile, indicating all is well when nothing could be further from the truth.
“Oleg,” she calls, “your breakfast is getting cold.”
He raises a finger to indicate he needs another minute and turns his back on her. “Explain to me what the fuck you were thinking, stealing Katherine Morrell’s key card instead of snatching the woman herself. All it accomplished was chasing Volkov straight to his army in Russia.”
“Patience, old man,” Bes says. “All in good time.”
Facing the vista of the vineyard, Oleg says, “My patience is running out. So is your time.”
“It will happen when I’m ready. We moved too fast the first time. That’s why you failed.”
“You mean you failed,” Oleg says.
Bes laughs. “You gave the order. That failure is on your head, my friend.”