“Bonjour, Sophie,” I replied, glancing up at her oval face.
She asked me in French if I would like a glass of brandy, her voice smooth and flirtatious. That’s when I caught Eva out of the corner of my eye, subtly lowering the magazine for a quick peek. Her gaze lingered, as if jealous of my chat with the tall, blonde air hostess.
I told Sophie not to bother—that I was okay and would inform her if I needed her assistance.
Again, she beamed at me, revealing her perfect whites before walking away, her heels clicking against the floor. By the time I shifted my gaze to Eva, she hurriedly raised the magazine to cover her face, pretending not to have been eavesdropping.
The jealousy she just exuded spoke more volumes than she realized, and it ignited a wicked sense of satisfaction in my chest.
Obviously, that kiss had been more than a momentary lapse. That cynical part of me was wrong; ithadmeant something to her, and she just proved it.
My lips curled into a self-satisfied grin, and I looked out the window, my heart warm with a strange kind of affection.
Something had shifted between us, and neither of us could undo it.
Chapter 15 —Eva
It had been two days since we returned to Chicago, and I had barely left my room. The plan was to avoid Demyon for as long as I could because I no longer understood my heart. Nor did I have complete control over my mind and body.
Honestly, I felt trapped between hatred and the pull of something I dared not name. I hated myself for letting my emotions push me into kissing the monster who had kidnapped me and locked me up in his mansion.
How had I let that happen?
What was I thinking?
To make matters worse, his taste still lingered on my lips, making me crave more of what we shared that night. It was super annoying because this strange swelling within me would only complicate things.
The way he kissed me back was proof that he’d been wanting to do that for a long time. It felt good at the time, and it successfully helped me forget the fact that I almost lost my life that same night.
Focusing more on the kiss and how it made me feel rather than the attempt on my life was crazy!
Yes, Demyon moved like a freaking ninja and saved me before any real damage was done. But he was the reason I was in trouble in the first place. It was like starting a fire and then taking credit for putting it out.
Demyon Tarasov was dangerous; he was a monster, and everywhere he went, death followed. I should be scared for my life and start looking for ways to get the hell out of here. The only problem was that whenever I tried to come up with the solutions to this problem, my mind kept drifting back to that stupid kiss.
The way his hands wrapped around my waist, the way his tongue slipped into my mouth, and the warmth of his embraceall ignited a strange flame of passion within me. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t quench that fire, and that was a huge concern to me.
At this point, there was enough hate to go around—and I shared it between him and me. I hated him as much as I hated myself for letting things get so out of control.
The most awkward part of all this was the jealousy I felt when that hot French flight attendant was flirting with him on the jet. What the hell was a French girl doing on a jet headed to Russia anyway?
The idiot completely ignored me like I didn’t exist and was busy throwing herself at Demyon. She just wanted him to notice her—maybe that was why she wore such a short skirt and left the top three buttons of her white shirt undone.
She’d practically flashed her cleavage in his face so she could get his attention. The amount of work she put into seducing him only made my blood boil.
I shouldn’t have been mad at all—it shouldn’t have gotten to me because I didn’t care. But I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t help but feel some jealousy.
Even now, remembering how that coy smile played on her lips still infuriated me. I tried to stop myself from caring about it, but it seemed impossible to do.
Demyon had snaked his way into my heart and was slowly carving his name into my mind. The only way I knew to combat this rising emotion was to avoid him. I thought the longer I stayed away from him, the more likely I was to regain control of my mind and body.
To do so, I refused to leave my room.
Breakfast, lunch, dinner, and everything in between were served within these four walls. Each time I heard a knock on my door, my heart would skip a beat, hoping it wasn’t Demyon.Luckily for me, it was never him—it was always a maid bringing my food.
I didn’t know how long I would keep going like this, but for now, this was the only thing I could think of. Keeping my distance was the surest way to get my act together and plan my next move.
So far, he hadn’t come looking for me, and he hadn’t questioned my sudden change in attitude. Maybe he figured I needed some space to think and had decided to grant me my wish.
