Maybe they would have sent in a professional instead of me.
I’d have escaped this entire stressful scenario.
I would still be stuck at home, playing my cello for nobody.
Is it bad or good luck that I’m apparently Ilya’s type?
Ilya smiles again. “You are very tempting, Micah.” He leans in to kiss me again. “But I do not want you to think I only want sex. You are too beautiful a man to be a… what do you call them? One night fuck.”
Am I?
Or maybe he’s already rescinding his offer to let me stay with him.
“Thanks,” I say softly.
As though sensing my thoughts, Ilya’s lips find mine again, and the urgency in that kiss is reassuring.
For a few moments, everything is perfect. Nothing feels fake or contrived.
A shadow falls over us.
“What the fuck?” a rough, familiar voice asks.
Ilya breaks the kiss and glares at the man. “You have a problem with two men kissing?”
Adam stares down at us, giving me that look that I know all too well, the one that makes me hyper-aware of how utterly screwed I am.
I don’t understand it.
I don’t understand why Adam is interrupting. I thought this was what he had wanted, so I don’t understand why the anger in his expression seemsreal. This is the opportunity I’ve beenwaiting for, the reason I’ve come to this particular bar again and again. Why is he pissed off at me for doing what he’d ordered me to do?
“I have a problem with my partner kissing another man,” Adam says quietly, but not so quietly that I can’t recognize the menace in it. “Micah, get up. We’ll talk about this when we get home.”
Home.
My blood has frozen in my veins.
Did I make a terrible mistake?
Isn’t this what he wanted?
I’d looked at Adam for support, and he’d given me a thumbs up right as Ilya was starting to kiss me. He knew what was about to happen and he’d given me the go-ahead to… to…
To whore myself out.
“I— I—” I stammer.
Ilya pulls me even closer to him, so that I’m half on his lap. “He is coming home with me,” he says in a curt voice. “You can fuck off.”
Something tugs at me as I realize he hadn’t been trying to let me down at all.
Either this mafia man wants to get laid, or he has a heart.
It has to be the former. I can’t believe even for a moment that there might be somethinggoodinside of him.
Adam’s face twists into something dark and dangerous for a fraction of a second, just long enough to remind me of what lies under this quiet, mild mask. As it is, he’s barely even trying for his charismatic front. “Micah.”
I squirm against Ilya’s arm and try to pull away, but he doesn’t let go of me. “I need to go,” I whisper.
