“You do what you’re told. That’s all.” My words are harsh, but my tone is easy, as always.
“I thought it was just sex.” She looks at me from under her lashes. She’s wearing mascara and light makeup, which for some reason turns me on. Maybe because she made an effort for me.
“It’s whatever the hell I want. Come and eat.” I pull back one of the barstools at the breakfast counter. The design of my suite is similar to the penthouse upstairs, only half the size.
She hops onto the stool and opens the bag of food. “You don’t cook much, do you?” She pops open a styrofoam container and makes an approving sound.
“I heat things in the microwave,” I tell her. “I can cook eggs. That’s about it. Do you like to cook?” I suddenly wish I’d had more time to stalk her on her Echo. Like I’ve missed out on all the things that make Chelle’s life, and I want to catch up.
“I like to cook,” she says. “Brunch is my favorite.”
“Brunch. What do you make for brunch?”
She smiles. “You know—breakfast food. Frittatas or quiche. Or ricotta pancakes. Fruit salad. Mimosas.”
An unfamiliar feeling stirs in my gut. Something like jealousy, which makes no sense.
“Who do you make this brunch for?” I sound far grumpier than usual.
She shrugs. “Zane. Or Shanna, my friend from the Red Room.” She picks up the gyro and squeezes it together to take a bite.
The jealousy remains. “Tomorrow you’ll make me brunch.” My imperious tone makes me sound like a total dick, but I can’t help myself. I want to be the recipient of her attention. Her food.
Fortunately, she doesn’t catch the asshole in my voice. Either that, or she really does like to cook brunch, because she perks up. “Okay. I need to go shopping because you don’t have much in the fridge.”
I nod. “We’ll go shopping together.”
“Are we shopping for furniture, too? Or do I do that on my own?”
Another unpleasant streak of anger runs through me. “We’ll go together.”
Blyad.’
I identify the feeling. Possessiveness. I’d felt it at the Red Room that night when the guy talked to her at the bar. Now I’m pissy about her giving her time or attention to anyone but me.
What in the hell is wrong with me?
I’ve never been possessive of a woman in my life. In fact, I usually can’t wait to bail as soon as we’ve had sex.
No wonder I’ve broken all my rules when it comes to her. There’s something different about her, for sure. She’s captivated me. This surliness I feel is the same way Dima got with Natasha. Especially because he didn’t think he could have her.
Fuck.
The realization that I’m in the same fucking boat hits me like a sucker punch to the gut.
“What?” Chelle asks.
I immediately make my expression blank. It is what it is. A transaction. Thirty days for her brother’s note. Chelle doesn’t want a relationship with me, she’s already made that clear.
The dark jealousy rumbles in the pit of my stomach again.
“I’m just planning all the ways I’m going to torture you, little bunny,” I say darkly.
She stops chewing and squeezes her thighs together like she’s turned on.
And that makes it all worth it. At least we both will have our sexual fantasies fulfilled. Making Chelle scream, even for a short time, is almost as satisfying as getting to keep her.
Chelle
“So...what do I have to do to earn a spin class?” I crawl over Nikolai’s lap to straddle him where he was sitting on the couch. I don’t know when I became a seductress, but it’s so far out of the box for me that it feels powerful and fun.
We visited a couple furniture stores without me finding anything suitable and stopped to pick up groceries for the week. I let Nikolai pay for them, of course.
Now Nikolai and I are on the sofa looking online for a dining room set.
He grabs my ass and grinds me over his erection. Based on the way his eyelids droop, I’m sure he’s thinking of dozens of dirty things to order me to do, but then asks, “What’s the point of spin? Riding a bike indoors? I don’t get it.”
“Well, there’s an instructor and music and the whole energy of the class to keep you going. It’s fun.”
“Hmm.”
Not the answer I was going for. I’m pretty much addicted to my spin class. I rely on the exercise and endorphins to get me through my week and keep me in shape. I seriously won’t survive a month without spin class.
Okay, that’s being overly dramatic, but it would suck. I’d rather come to an arrangement with Nikolai.
He loops a finger through the chain around my neck and fingers my little Star of David pendant.
“My dad gave it to me,” I say as an explanation because I sense the question in his gesture. “It was a bat mitzvah gift.”
Nikolai studies my face without comment. “Are you religious?”
I shrug. “No, but he’s dead.”
Nikolai nods. “I know.”
“You know? How?”
“Your brother’s been at my table for over a year now. It’s my business to know the background of my clients.”
I want to snort at the word client, but I sense sympathy in Nikolai’s gaze, and it pokes my tender spot. “Do you know how he died?” The bitter taste of grief and remaining anger coat my mouth.
Nikolai nods again and strokes a thumb lightly across my cheek. “I’m sorry, zayka. It must’ve been hard for you when your brother is still so young.”
Ack. He named it. Tears instantly pop into my eyes. “Yeah,” I choke. “Especially…” I break off because, well, Nikolai is the cause of my current stress over Zane. Of course, it’s Zane’s fault, but Nikolai’s the problem.
“Especially now?” he asks, guessing too much. “Zane’s gambling habit must be hard to watch after what happened with your dad.”
A sob rockets out of my throat, and I lurch to climb off his lap.
Nikolai catches my waist and pulls me back. “Don’t run, Freckles,” he murmurs. “I can take the tears. Let me have them.”
It’s a strange thing to say. I don’t know if it’s something that doesn’t translate the same from Russian, but it frees me. I punch his chest as I dissolve into a hysterical mess. He catches my wrists and tries to wrap his arms around me as I continue to struggle.
I haven’t even admitted this terror out loud. That Zane will end up like my dad, putting a bullet into his own head because of his gambling problem. Now that Nikolai just spoke it aloud, it looms up, huge and ugly—the shadow monster I’ve been trying to keep under lock. The thing I’ve been trying so hard to keep at bay for both of us.
I punch his chest again. “It’s your fault,” I accuse, even though it’s not true.
“I won’t let him back, okay? Even after the debt is paid.”
I throw myself against him, burying my wet face against his neck and wrapping my arms around his strong shoulders. “Thank you,” I sob, knowing full well that Nikolai refusing to allow Zane back doesn’t mean my brother won’t find another form of gambling if he wants to.