Victor glances up toward one corner of the elevator, and I resist the urge to look at what is probably a camera recording our movements.
Does he think Andre is watching us now?
The possibility sends an unwelcome wave of heat through my insides. I’ve never wanted a man’s attention, not even at Platinum, where that’s sort of the whole point of being there. I do my best to pretend like I enjoy their focus because I want, no need, the money it brings me, but I’ve never liked it, which always made me feel better. It helped me handle ending up in a place I swore I never would.
But Andre’s attention is different.
It’s impossible to ignore the creep of awareness that slides over my skin when he’s watching me. But awareness isn’t the issue.
It’s everything that follows it. The warmth in my belly. The clench of my thighs.
My body doesn’t seem to realize he’s dangerous.
And completely uninterested in what I have to offer.
Which makes me wonder why in the hell I’m here.
The elevator slows and Victor’s head angles away from me, just enough to put his face out of the camera’s view. “Mr. Valinov seems to have a fondness for women who aren’t afraid of him.”
I have to work hard not to react as Victor offers up that tidbit of information.
I want to ask a million questions, but it’s clear someone will see my mouth working and know I’ve had a discussion with the man sent to retrieve me.
I press my lips together as the doors slowly slide open, mind racing through the past twenty seconds.
Is Victor trying to help me by offering insight?
It seems possible, but why?
I don’t have time to debate the options anymore because Andre is standing in the foyer, arms crossed, hard black eyes fixed on my face the second it comes into view. “You’re late.”
I swallow down an emotion that feels a little too much like anticipation, pretending it’s panic as I square my shoulders.
Might as well test out Victor’s theory while I still have a witness to my possible murder.
“No, I’m not.” I fidget with the felted belt of my wool coat, fingers shaking way more than my voice. “This is the same time I get home every night.” It’s actually earlier, since I didn’t have to take the bus, but pointing that out seems like pushing my luck.
Andre’s nostrils flare and my heart skips a beat as I wait for the fallout that might be coming my way.
His hard gaze sweeps down my front, and the weight of it is almost palpable.
Almost like a touch.
I know Andre says he’s not interested in fucking me, but he’s made it clear more than once that it’s because I’m a virgin, and the intensity in the way he’s focused on me makes me wonder if maybe that’s the only thing stopping him.
Which is just one more frustrating example of how women can’t win. No matter what they do, someone will be judgmental of their choices.
And Andre isn’t the first man to be unhappy with my virginity.
He’s just the first man to make me consider being unhappy with it too.
His eyes hold mine a second longer before flicking to Victor. “Take her coat.” He starts to turn away then faces Victor again. “Then send Sal home and go home yourself. You look like shit.”
I give Victor a good once over. He doesn’t look like shit at all. Victor’s actually really attractive, with sandy brown hair and hazel eyes. He’s almost as tall as Andre, with broad shoulders and a sharp jaw. He’s the kind of man that would make most women do a double-take.
If he didn’t also look completely capable of murdering anyone who looked at him twice.
But while Victor definitely doesn’t look like shit, he does look exhausted. Probably because it’s after four in the morning.