“I have to take care of something.” He stashes his phone in the back pocket of his jeans.
“I can take a cab back,” I offer. It’s a thirty-minute walk back to his condo, and from the wrinkle of his brow, I’d say he needs to get moving. “I’ll just walk around the park a bit more then head back.”
He looks ready to argue with me.
“I’m old enough to manage a walk through the park, Nikolai.”
“Viktor’s on his way. I’ll send him back to pick you up in an hour.” He crosses the room again until his toes meet mine on the stone flooring. I inhale him.
“One hour. Got it.” I nod along with his dictate and try to look away. Why is it becoming so hard to look at him?
He won’t put up with my inattention though. He knuckles my chin until I’m looking into those damn milk chocolate eyes of his.
“One hour. Keep your phone on. And when you get home, try to do something relaxing. I have an entire library and a huge media room.”
“I can do that,” I say softly.
He runs his fingertips along my jaw, cupping my face and pulling me closer to him.
“Good girl,” he whispers as he presses his lips—his warm, full lips—against mine. He moves closer to me, his chest pushes against mine as he deepens the kiss. My hands move to his chest, feeling his hard muscles beneath his shirt. The moment stretches and I lean into him.
He nips my lip as he breaks away.
“One hour,” he says again and slides his hand down my arm and entangles our fingers again. “I’ll take you back down.”
I follow him down the spiral staircase and then all the way down to the path we’d taken to get to the castle. His phone goes off again and he checks it.
“Viktor’s here. You know your way around?”
“Yeah.” It’s not a complete lie. I can figure it out pretty easily.
He kisses my cheek. “Be careful. Anything happens, you call me right away. Understand?”
The overprotectiveness should be a bright red flag, but given his lifestyle and family businesses, it’s understandable. But no one knows about me in his world. I’m nobody.
“I understand,” I say with a strong nod. “You better go, or you’ll be late.”
He lets go of my hand, stops after three steps, shakes his head, then continues down the path toward the street Viktor is no doubt blocking traffic on to wait for him.
Okay. I have one hour of complete freedom in Central Park. But instead of heading to the Shakespeare Garden or the carousel, I stand on the path, watching Nikolai until he disappears around a bend.
This isn’t going to end well for me, is it?