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.