SIMONA
Two hours ago
Bone-deep warmth wrapped around me.What is this?
I cracked open my eyes. The world blurred for a second before focusing—Jake’s face inches from mine, his dark lashes low, the faint pensive crease between his brows even in sleep. As we lay skin to skin in the cramped backseat of the rental, I sighed, a smile forming. His muscular body seemed to lift mine with every exhale.
The sedan smelled of damp fabric, heater-blown air, and him.
My chest squeezed.
Last night broke through in pieces—the scream, falling, water sharper than knives slicing my skin … a frantic, desperate search for Natasha. Jake hauling me out before my muscles seized from negative temperatures. His body solid against mine as I shook so hard my teeth clacked together and stabbed my bottom lip.
He must’ve carried me up the hill? After removing my wet clothes, minus bra and underwear, he took off his ownand wrapped me in his warmth. In an SS Robinson thriller, the enemies—and not quite yet lovers—had gotten stranded somewhere near Aspen. Body heat saved them. We’d stayed this way all night, my body untensing from the icy cold, while I curled into his body like we had every right to be in this position.
I didn’t move now.
Not yet.
His eyes opened, slow, as if he already knew I couldn’t take my eyes from him.
“You were shaking so violently,” he murmured, voice gravel from sleep. “I was afraid you’d go into shock while I drove to the castle. I’d only meant for you to stop shaking, but I … fell asleep too.”
I tilted my head, letting my lips twitch into a smirk. “Do not worry. You’re my personal space heater. You gave me a story to hold over you forever.”
One eyebrow rose in question.
Crap. Forever, really, Sima? You can’t stand this man, and he can’t stand you.
“Hello, if my cousin and your brother remain inseparable, I will eventually share the story, Baby MacKenzie.”
Averting his gaze, he muttered, “Why do I bother?”Which honestly deepened my smirk.
We sat up. Him on his side of the backseat. Me on mine. Reality returned. Icy morning air snuck through the door as we cracked it open to clear the foggy windows. We wiggled into jeans and sweaters in the cramped area.
Once I settled in the seat with a grunt, Jake cleared his throat and stared at me. “So, what’s next? How will we find?—”
My phone vibrated. Baran. I answered with a heavy sigh. “Da?”
“Sima, news?” My friend sounded gutted.
“Sit tight,” I replied. “We will resolve this.”
“Will I have my vengeance,solnyshko?” Since being assigned to my detail, the older man had called melittle sun.Seven-year-old me would deepen my frown. I should’ve been the sunshine. A happy facade? Disgusting to Rurik.
“You will, old friend. Justgrieve?—”
The phone pinged. An unknown number. “Sorry, Baran. This might be Natasha.” I took the call.
“Simona.” Rurik Mikhailov’s voice was low, accented hard Russian edges rolling off every syllable. “I have a gift for you.”Wow. That sounded like a command.
I leaned against the seat, demeanor settling into bored sarcasm. “Let me guess—another puppy.” I’d passed the tiny Samoyed to a girl as I waited for the post-school traffic to ease near his Moscow mansion.
“Nyet. Your cousin, Natasha.”
My pulse stiffened. “What?”
“She’s safe. For now. I received an anonymous tip. A good Samaritan advised of your uncle’s breach in contract.”
