“When you took me, happy anniversary by the way, I noticed that you smelled like you’d been grilling. Do you do this every Friday?”
He gives his broad shoulders a shrug. “It’s steak night.” He gives me a wink and adds, “Happy anniversary to you too.”
His words should not make me blush, but they do. I admire the way his jeans accentuate his narrow, trim waist, and the way his T-shirt hugs him like a second skin while he continues to throw the ball for the dogs. When he starts cooking the steaks, the dogs line up in front of the grill, tongues hanging out and tails wagging. He doesn’t cook theirs long, and as soon as they’re cool enough, he drops one in each of their bowls. They obediently wait, staring up at him like he’s their god, and as soon as he gives the command, they dig in. I laugh at their excitement while he finishes cooking our steaks. When it’s all ready, we sit at the table outside and eat under the stars.
“Thanks, Volodya. This is really delicious.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
“You’re from Moscow, right?” I ask, watching him closely to see if my question annoys him. He’s not the most talkative man in the world, and I’m guessing he’s also not the type to appreciate a ton of questions.
“I am.”
“What’s it like? Do you miss it?”
“It’s busy.” He spreads his arms and looks up at the night sky. “I like this better.”
“I bet your parents miss you,” I say, in a very transparent attempt to get more info.
He gives me a slight smirk, clearly onto my game, and says, “My dad was murdered several years ago.”
“I’m so sorry,” I quickly say, cursing my curiosity.
“It happens in this line of work.” He takes a drink and adds, “It nearly killed my mom, though. She’s a different person now. We lost both parents that night.”
After a few minutes of silence, he looks at me and adds, “It’s dangerous to bring someone else into this kind of life.”
I know exactly what he’s trying to tell me, but I don’t want to hear it. “Your parents were in love?”
“Very much so,” he says. “And that love nearly killed her.”
“I’m guessing she would tell you it was worth it.”
“Maybe.” He sits back in his chair, scrubbing a hand over his stubbled jaw. “But was it really? She’s miserable and life is just something she endures now. She’s broken, unable to move on, and stuck in a headful of memories that will never be her reality again.”
“But you three are here because of that love. That’s got to be worth something.”
He scoffs at that. “Yeah, I’m not so sure the world is a better place because we’re in it,kiska.”
“Agree to disagree,” I tell him, making his lip quirk up a bit.
“You really hate giving out full smiles, don’t you?”
Before he can answer, his phone buzzes on the table. He checks the incoming message and sighs. “We need to go somewhere tonight.”
“We do?”
“Yeah, Scott and some of his friends showed up at Inferno. I need you to come with me to see if you recognize that guy you told me about.”
I look down at my leggings and T-shirt. “Okay, let me just hurry up and change.”
“Wear pants,” he yells after me. Running to my room, I hurry up and switch out my clothes for a pair of jeans and a black halter top that ties around my neck, leaving my back and arms exposed. Throwing on a bit of makeup so I don’t look completely washed out, I run a brush through my hair, throw on some cute black ankle boots and a spritz of perfume before running back downstairs.
“Okay, I’m ready,” I tell him. His eyes run over me, but I can’t tell what he’s thinking. I start to second-guess my outfit and am just about to change when he grabs my arm and leads me to the door. In the garage, I start to walk to his car, but he hands me a helmet instead. “Oh,” I say, eyeing the motorcycle he’d looked sexy as fuck riding when he’d followed me around town like a psycho. “Yeah, I’m not so sure about this, Volodya.”
“Scared?” he taunts, pulling his own helmet on. His face is quickly hidden from me, and why the hell does that turn me on so much? He tilts his head a bit to the side, and I start to fidget, shifting my weight from foot to foot. I hear his muffled laugh before he reaches out to put my helmet on. He tightens the strap, making sure it’s secure, and then hikes one long leg over and motions for me to get on.
“Don’t let go,” he says, pulling my arms tightly around him so I’m forced to mold my body to his.
