“It’s an all-inclusive package,” he quips, and I can’t help but smirk. There’s something infuriatingly charming about him when he’s not, you know, holding me captive after I tried to kill him.
I shift gears, my mind racing for a way out. “How about a walk in the garden? I hear the roses are lovely this time of year.”
“In the dress from last night?” He raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it.
I shrug. “What can I say? I’m fashion-forward.”
He doesn’t move; just watches me with those eyes that see too much.
I sigh internally. Time for Plan B.
I stretch languidly, making sure the golden dress rides up just enough to be distracting. Leonid’s eyes follow the movement, and I suppress a smirk.
Got you.
Slowly, I slide my legs off the bed, letting them dangle for a moment before standing. The dress clings to me like a second skin, and I can feel Leonid’s gaze burning into me as I take a step toward him.
“You know,” I purr, channeling every femme fatale I’ve ever seen in movies, “there are easier ways to get to know a girl than kidnapping her.”
Leonid’s eyebrow quirks up, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Is that so?”
I take another step, closing the distance between us. “Mmhmm. Dinner, maybe. Or a drink.”
He doesn’t move from his spot on the edge of the bed, but I can see the tension in his shoulders. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”
I’m close enough now that I can smell his cologne, a heady mix of spice and wood. It’s intoxicating, and for a moment, I almost forget why I’m doing this.
Focus, Clara.
“There’s always now,” I suggest, my voice low. I reach out, my fingers almost brushing his chest.
That’s when he moves, faster than I anticipated. His hand wraps around my wrist, firm but not painful.
“Nice try,” he says, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers through me. “But you’ll have to do better than that.”
I glare at him, frustrated that he saw through my ploy so easily. “You’re like a mind reader, aren’t you?”
“Only on Tuesdays,” he replies, his thumb absently stroking the inside of my wrist before he releases me.
The brief contact leaves my skin tingling, and I step back, needing to put some distance between us. My eyes dart to the bread still sitting on the nightstand, taunting me. I make a mental note to grab it at the first chance.
Meanwhile, I need a new strategy, one that doesn’t involve failed seduction attempts or pathetic escapes.
“So, are we going to stand here all day, or are you going to tell me what you want?” I ask, trying a different tack.
Leonid watches me for a moment, his eyes unreadable. Then he sighs. “For starters, let’s get you out of that dress and into something less… golden.”
“Thank God,” I mutter, relief washing over me. Finally, something we can agree on.
But as I meet his gaze, I notice something shift in his eyes. It’s not the cold calculation of a captor or the anger of a man I tried to poison. No, it’s something hotter, more primal. Desire.
The realization hits me like a punch to the gut, and I feel heat rising to my cheeks.
He clearly wants me.
My heart slams against my ribs.
Before I can process this new development, Leonid turns abruptly and strides toward the door. “Kayla will bring you your change of clothes,” he says over his shoulder, his voice gruff.
