By morning, I’ve hardly slept. Twice, I got up to sneak a look at her, and she was curled up on the sofa beneath a big blanket. I couldn’t tell if she was awake or not, but she didn’t move or try to speak to me.
This isn’t going to work. We can’t stay here.
The kettle clicks loudly as I walk into the kitchen. She doesn’t turn to look at me, ignoring my arrival completely as she carries on making herself a cup of tea.
“We’re leaving in an hour,” I say simply.
“Where to?” she spins to face me, her brows knitted and her cheeks red from sleep.
“To my mansion. It’ll be better staying there than here.”Even though the place isn’t finished being built yet.
“Or…you could just let me go and carry on with your life as though none of this happened?” she snaps angrily.
Her hair is a tousled mess, half out of the bun it was in, half still tied up. She must have tossed and turned as well. Her eyes are puffy, her face rosy and her lips pouted in defiance.
Fuck, I want her.
I want to lift her onto the counter and press my lips against hers as I push her legs apart.
“Well?” she huffs.
“Well, what?”
“Let me go.”
“Oh, no, that’s not an option.” I shrug, playing it casual, acting like I’m not affected by her. Light spills over me from inside the fridge when I tug the door open to grab the milk. I hand it to her, and she scrunches her nose.
“Thank you,” she mutters.
A massive grin spreads over my face, which I can’t even try to fight.
“What’s so funny?” she asks.
“You hate me, but you still have manners. I don’t know why it’s so amusing. But it is.”
“Go to hell, Yulian.”
That makes me laugh outright, and she spins her back to me, her shoulders tense and her body filled with agitation.
I wonder what she’s plotting?
Instead of staying to make a cup of coffee as I planned, I hightailed it out of the kitchen. Away from her. Her scent. Her hair. Her eyes. Her body.
Yes, going to the mansion is a better choice. There will be more space to think.
On the drive, she’s quiet and sulking in the seat next to me.
She has her arms folded across her chest.
“I’ve asked my men to go to the store and get you some clothes. They should be on their way back now. You can put on something fresh when we get there.”
“Whatever,” she snaps.
“Or not. I sort of like the faint smell of salt on your skin,” I shrug.
“Gross,” she whines, trying to lean further away from me, towards the car door. I chuckle, amused that I can annoy her so easily. Maybe I’ve been going about this the wrong way. I was allowing myself to be affected by her, not realizing that I’m the one in control. Of course I am. Even if she drives me wild with desire, I’m still the one in control here.
As we drive, I think.
