Handing Katerina a wedge of orange from the tray, I say, “I have some arrangements to make before we can go out. How about we have lunch in the old city and visit a few sights around there? I want to be back before sunset.”
“Okay.” Either excitement or relief brightens the honey flecks in her eyes.
“Given the time difference, you probably won’t speak to Joanne until tonight,” I say.
She bites into the flesh of the orange. “You’ll really let me chat with her?”
“I can do better than that.” Catching a drop of juice that runs down her chin with my thumb, I bring the pad to my mouth and lick it clean. “How about a video call?”
Her eyes grow large. “Really? That’s not too risky?”
“I just need some time to put a few measures in place.” With a warning, I add, “It won’t happen every day.”
“Thank you,” she says, looking almost like the Katerina of old.
The fact that she’s thanking me for a call that should be her right to make says a lot about how twisted this situation truly is. Not wanting to linger on that fact, I lean over and kiss her lips. They’re sticky with sugar and taste of winter fruit. We never did have that shower I promised her. Like a selfish bastard, I didn’t want to wash the stamp of my possession off her body. If anything, I want to come all over her and rub my cum into her skin.
The smell of citrus explodes in the air as she bends the peel to eat the orange. I put my mug aside and then do the same thing with hers before leaving the tray on the floor. The widening of her gaze when I take the peel from her hand and carelessly discard it says she knows what’s to follow even before I pin her down.
14
Kate
After we shower together, Alex leaves me to get ready while he takes care of the arrangements for our lunch and tour of the city.
As I brush out my hair in front of a mirror, my cheeks heat at the recollection of how we spent an hour after breakfast in bed. The sex had been downright wicked. A lot of dirty Russian words and loud moaning had been involved. I hope the walls are thick.
I haven’t forgiven Alex, but I can’t deny that I need him, now more than ever. I can’t help but enjoy his company both in and out of bed. What’s the point of running from the truth? I can’t pretend he doesn’t affect my feelings.
What he told me about his past has shocked me. I can’t imagine how tough it must’ve been to survive on his own at such a young age. To achieve what he has, and with no support, took an enormous amount of self-drive. My respect for him has multiplied tenfold. I can only admire his determination, intelligence, and skills. Not many people, if dealt the same cards, would end up where he has. His sad but victorious history only confirms what I already know.
Alex never gives up. He always gets what he wants.
My hand shakes a little as I set the brush aside. I’m both excited and nervous about getting out of the house. Living in constant fear is new to me, and I’ve yet to learn how to deal with it.
A knock on the door startles me from my thoughts.
“Katyusha?” Alex calls. “We’re good to leave a little earlier. We can go as soon as you’re ready.”
“I’ll be down in ten minutes.”
“Take your time.”
Not wanting to make him wait, I quickly grab some clothes. In five minutes, I’m dressed in a pair of jeans, a wool sweater, and boots. When I come down the stairs, Alex is talking on the phone in Russian in the foyer. A few guards buzz around, carrying laptops and other equipment outside. Lena stands quietly next to the coat closet.
Alex has his back turned to me, giving me time to study how well his body fills out his clothes. A black button-up shirt stretches over his broad shoulders, and dark pants hug his sculpted ass. His bicep flexes under his shirt sleeve as he presses the phone to his ear with his left hand. A fancy watch and a chunky silver bracelet are visible on his wrist where the cuff has been pulled up. He looks like a walking billboard for a high-end men’s designer clothing brand. A whiff of cardamom and cedar reaches me at the bottom of the staircase. He’s such a perfect combination of everything that’s deliciously male that it almost hurts to look at him.
Judging by his professional tone, he’s discussing business. Spoken in his deep voice and with his commanding attitude, the foreign words sound sexy, even when they’re work-related. Alex Volkov not only exudes power; he drips with sex appeal. It’s not often that I have the chance to observe him unnoticed. I’m the one who’s usually pinned under his dissecting stare. Making the most of the opportunity, I burn the incredible way he looks, sounds, and smells into my memory, so I can enjoy the stolen moment again later.
My steps are quiet on the carpet. I stop at a distance to give him privacy to finish his call. As if sensing my presence, he turns. A steely gaze collides with mine. The blue of his eyes warms several degrees as he takes me in from top to bottom. His visual evaluation contracts my skin as if he were running his fingertips over my body. The heated appreciation he shows for everyone present to see sends sparks to my belly. He finishes his conversation with a few short commands, sounding as in charge as ever while simultaneously devouring me with his stare.
Only Alex can direct his attention to two places at once and control both with precision and power.
Ending the call, he pockets his phone. “Ready?”
Sexual tension runs thick in the air. Our awareness of each other is visceral. It always has been, right from the start. Alex is an incurable disease. No matter what happens, I’ll never get him out of my system. He’s gotten too deeply under my skin.
Not trusting my voice, I nod.
Lena takes my coat from the closet and hands it to Alex. He helps me put it on before taking his own.
When we’ve finished pulling on our scarves and gloves, he offers me his arm. “Let’s go.”
The guard at the door opens it to let us out. Five cars are on the driveway. Men in dark coats wait next to the cars. They’re dressed casually, presumably to blend in on the streets, but when the man in the front bends to get into the car, his coat falls open, revealing a gun in a body holster.
Alex and I get into the car in the middle. Yuri is in the driver’s seat. He gives me a nod in the rearview mirror as he starts the engine. Alex says something to him in Russian, at which he pulls off.
Two cars lead the convoy, and two tail us. Alex takes my gloved hand in his and keeps it on his lap, caressing my knuckles with his thumb, but his attention is aimed outside. Tension fills the car as he keeps a vigilant eye on the surroundings. My muscles tighten. He wasn’t this preoccupied on the drive from the airport to the house.
“Is something the matter?” I ask.
Turning his face to look at me, he makes a visible effort to relax his features. “Everything is fine.”
I search his eyes. “Really?”
“I’m just being careful. How does your saying go? Better safe than sorry.”
Why do I get the feeling there’s something he’s not telling me? “If the risk is too big, we can stay at home. I don’t mind.”
His expression softens. “We’re fine. It’s a beautiful day to be out. You deserve it.”