“No!” The word came out too sharp, too desperate. I softened my tone, tried again. “No, it’s fine. I’ll call a car. You should go back to sleep.”
He studied me for a long moment, those blue eyes seeing right through my pathetic excuse. I held my breath, waiting for him to call me out on the lie, to demand the truth. Part of me wanted him to. Wanted someone to finally force me to stop carrying this alone.
But he just nodded slowly. “Okay.”
I grabbed my blouse from the hallway, my boots from somewhere near the living room. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking as I pulled everything on, as I tried to look like someonewho hadn’t just had her world turned upside down twice in twelve hours.
When I reached the door, I made the mistake of looking back.
Kirill was standing in the bedroom doorway, leaning against the frame, watching me with an expression I couldn’t read. Something between concern and suspicion, between wanting to help and knowing better than to push.
“Barbara,” he said quietly. Just my name. Nothing else.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, though I didn’t know what I was apologizing for. For lying. For leaving. For last night being so perfect when my life was anything but.
Then I ran.
Down the elevator, through the lobby, out into the Chicago morning that was too bright, too normal, too indifferent to my crumbling world. I called a car with shaking hands, standing on the sidewalk outside Kirill’s building like I could outrun what I’d just done.
But you can’t outrun yourself.
And as I climbed into the car and gave the driver my address, I realized that last night had changed everything. That Kirill, dangerous, intense, impossibly understanding Kirill, had somehow slipped past every defense I’d built.
Chapter 4 – Kirill
I woke to sunlight cutting through the floor-to-ceiling windows, warm and insistent against my closed eyelids. It seemed perfect. I’d forgotten about Douglas, about Vladimir’s conditions, about the weight of vengeance that had become my shadow.
Because Barbara was still in my bed.
She lay curled against me, her chestnut hair spread across my pillow like silk, one hand resting on my chest. Her breathing was soft and even, her face so peaceful that it made something in my chest constrict. I’d spent the night learning every curve of her body, every sound she made, the way she said my name when she—
Her phone shattered the silence.
The harsh ring cut through the room like a blade, and I felt her stiffen against me. Not the slow awareness of someone waking naturally, but the sudden tension of someone bracing for impact.
I hadn’t meant to look. Should’ve given her privacy, should’ve closed my eyes and pretended I was still asleep. But years of survival instincts don’t just disappear because you want them to, and my gaze flicked to her phone screen on the nightstand.
Bass.
The name burned into my retinas. But it was the sound that made my blood run cold, a man’s voice, loud enough to hear even though the phone wasn’t on speaker. He was barking. Actually barking orders and accusations like she was a subordinate who’d failed a mission instead of….
Instead of what? My mind supplied unhelpfully. His girlfriend? The woman he had waiting for him while she spent the night in my bed?
Barbara scrambled up, her movements frantic, all traces of that peaceful sleep vanishing. Her hand shook as she grabbed the phone, and I tried my best to keep still while pretending to be asleep.
The sight made rage simmer in my gut.
“Hello?” Her voice came out thin, frightened. Nothing like the woman who’d grabbed the back of my neck last night and kissed me like she was claiming territory.
I couldn’t catch the exact words; the bastard on the other end was speaking too fast, too angrily, but the tone was unmistakable. A voice that made threats sound like casual conversation.
Barbara flinched with each barked sentence, and my hands clenched in the sheets.
“I…I’ll explain later,” she stammered, swinging her legs out of bed. The morning light caught the curve of her spine, the marks I’d left on her skin, small bruises on her hips where I’d gripped too hard, the faint red lines on her shoulders from my teeth. Evidence of what we’d done. What she’d wanted. What we’d both wanted so desperately that we’d barely made it through the door.
And now she was taking a call from her boyfriend.
I’d spent the night with another man’s woman. Made her forget her own name. Made her scream mine instead. And somewhere in the back of my mind, beneath the rage and confusion, was a sick sense of victory.
