“At first, you wanted nothing to do with me. Then I saw you again and you gave me such a pretty, eager smile. You have to admit, it was a rather quick change of mind.”
I itch to smack him. If my mother had raised me differently, I might have. To think we toasted to girls changing their minds with his high-end vodka last night. To think I spent the night in his bed with him inside me. No, I shouldn’t think about that. I’m upset, and anything I say now, I may regret later. Dragging my fingers through my hair, I retreat as far away from him as possible, until my back hits the wall.
“I need to go,” I say in a hoarse whisper.
He takes two steps toward me. “Katyusha.”
“Stop calling me that. Don’t pretend you care.”
“That’s the problem. I do.”
I turn my face away. “Stop it.”
He advances more, reaching for me. I see his hands from my peripheral vision, those hands that had been all over my body last night while he secretly ran security checks on me. Before he can touch me, I sidestep him again.
“You’re upset,” he says.
No kidding. I look back up at him. “You could’ve told me you planned on running a background check on me.”
“I didn’t want you to be upset about nothing.”
“It’s not nothing! What you think of me—” I bite off the words I was about to say, the admission that it’s important to me.
Pushing off the wall, I shove my fingers through my hair. “You know what? You’re right. It’s not important.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” His voice is tight as I walk past him.
“Nothing,” I say, not looking back at him. Let’s see how he feels about that nothing he’s been giving me as an answer.
“Katerina, come back here.”
I all but run down the stairs, looking around for my bag. Where did I leave it?
Marusya comes out of the kitchen with a plastic container in her hand just as I enter the foyer with Alex hot on my heels. Her eyes widen a fraction as she takes us in.
“Um…” I make an effort to calm myself, brushing invisible strands of hair off my face. “Have you seen my bag?”
She points at a wingback chair. My handbag sits neatly on it. I must’ve dropped it in the car during our heated make-out session last night. Heat floods my cheeks when I think about the driver who probably brought my handbag inside and what he must’ve been thinking. What the sweet housekeeper is thinking. What Alex is thinking: that I had a change of mind because someone paid me to sleep with him.
Hurrying over to the chair, I grab my bag. I need to escape. I need space to calm down and think this through. I spin on my heels, giving Alex a flustered, “Thanks for the dinner and”—I clear my throat—“everything.”
He stares at me silently, his blue eyes hard but at the same time soft with something that threatens to steal into my heart. But no. I won’t be treated like a spy who can be bought for the right price. Our attraction isn’t enough for me to turn a blind eye to the fact that he’d held this opinion of me while we were in bed together, or that he’d invaded my privacy in this awful way. Not even the great sex or tender aftercare this morning is worth it.
Marusya trots across the floor and thrusts the container she’s carrying at me, her cheeks flushed. “Your lunch.”
“Thank you,” I say, taking the container. Since she’s gone to the trouble of making the lunch, I’m not going to be rude and throw it back in her face. I’m angry with Alex, not his housekeeper.
For some reason, though, I can’t say goodbye to him. The knowledge that I’ll never see him again hurts even worse than his reluctant confession. The tears are already burning the backs of my eyes as I escape to the door, cursing my naivety. I’m no match for a worldly, experienced Russian oligarch with many enemies. The kind of men I’m used to dating don’t distrust me. They get to know me over time because we don’t fall into bed on the first date. They don’t dig up my history while I sleep in their arms, and they certainly don’t hack into my bank account.
Kate, you are such an idiot.
I wipe at my eyes and grip the doorknob, but it slides in my sweaty palm. I try twice, and still the damn door doesn’t budge. There’s no escaping. I’m stuck inside.
A strong, masculine arm circles around me from behind, stilling my hand. I freeze. Alex leans against me, letting me feel his weight as he sandwiches me between his muscular body and the door. Despite everything, he’s hard for me. His erection is like a bar of steel pressing on my spine. His heat penetrates my skin, and my body aches for more. It wants his arms around me, soothing me, but my mind is finally back from its sabbatical, functioning despite the haze of the hormones raging through my body.