“I am not some weak little girl who needs your protection,” I whispered.
“You are soft and naïve and reckless.”
“You are insufferable.”
“You’re trouble,” he said softly. “And trouble needs rules.”
The air between us was molten now, charged with so much tension I could feel it in my teeth.
I took a shaky breath. “I came here to thank you, you know.”
“And look how well we’re getting along.”
“I’m leaving.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Avgust—”
“You’re staying exactly where I can see you.”
For a second, neither of us moved. Then he stepped back, not far, but just enough for the spell to break so I could finally breathe again.
“Go eat something,” he said, looking away first. “You haven’t had a real meal since yesterday.”
My pulse was still racing. “Are you done lecturing me now?”
“No.”
I glared at him while he smirked. Actually smirked. And damn it, my stomach flipped.
“This conversation isn’t over,” he said, turning toward the desk again. “It’s just paused, and if you don’t mess up or do something stupid again, we might not even have to resume it.”
I spun on my heel before he could see the heat on my face and marched out of the office, muttering curses under my breath. Behind me, I heard the faintest sound that was almost a breath of laughter.
Almost.
I walked out of his office feeling like someone had plugged a live wire into my spine. Every step felt too loud and heated, making me too aware of the way he’d looked at me. Like he could see every thought I was trying to hide. I forced myself down the hallway, trying to shake off the echo of his voice and his rules and the way he had stepped into my space as if my air belonged to him.
I needed distance. And food.
The kitchen smelled like bread and butter, and something roasted, making my stomach growl before I had even stepped inside. Marta, one of the older housekeepers, turned when she heard me.
“Ah, Ilana, you’re here.” Her Russian accent was warm, like honey over sharp edges. “I made soup.”
“Thank you,” I said quietly.
She studied me with a soft frown. “You look pale.”
“I’ve had a long week.”
“No wonder,” she muttered, shaking her head as she poured the thick soup into a bowl. “Men like him…” she hesitated before finishing, “They are difficult.”
“You’re telling me.”
Her eyes twinkled. “But he is not cruel. Many men in this world pretend they are. Avgust? He does not pretend. He is exactly what he is.”
“And what is that?”
