Tonight, after Sergei almost walked me all the way home, I trudged up the stairs and prayed that she would be deep asleep and not stir at all. That she wouldn’t want my attention. Because if she saw me now, she’d have so many questions about the look on my face.
Questions I could not answer.
Questions that raced in my mind.
Why does it feel so right to kiss him?
How can such a dangerous man make me feel so safe? So cherished?
There was no doubt that Sergei was a dangerous man. He carried a confidence that Fitz never could have pulled off. Power and strength exuded from the stranger I’d called my fake boyfriend. With just one look, he could scare off anyone. His intimidating aura would convince anyone to think twice about messing with him.
Why?
How?
Who is he?
I didn’t want to dwell on where he’d come from, how he could be so sinister yet tender with me. Not once did he issue the threat of harm toward me. Whatever he’d experienced in life prepared him to be a bad ass. A bad boy, which was so opposite of my late husband that I worried I wasn’t equipped to know how to handle a bad boy. A sexy man who kissed me like Sergei did. I couldn’t lie and admit I didn’t like it. I couldn’t deny the hunger that he didn’t try to hide when he laid his hands on me. The protection he offered me so freely.
Why—
I huffed out a deep exhale of frustration as I reached my door. Hanging my head, I waited for this guilt to fade. Guilty and ashamed of how much I liked his kiss, I hesitated to open the door.
Going directly to bed would be wisest. But when I entered and Daria looked up with a smile from her spot on the couch, where she sat reading, I knew I’d have to mask how unsettled I felt from Sergei’s last kiss.
Shame and guilt gnawed at me with how I’d kissed him back.
How I couldn’t stop the mental replay of wanting more.
“Long night?” Daria guessed as she stood. Wincing with a frown, she proved that she was an expert at picking up on cues. The college student would do well with her degree in psychology, even if she was struggling with debt and the looming question of how she’d pay for her education without the scholarship she’d been hoping for.
“Yeah.” I cleared my throat, knowing I could confide in her if I took the chance. I was so grateful she’d approached me when I moved in with Maisie. She’d noticed that I was a single mom. She was hoping for extra money from babysitting, and it was a perfect symbiosis between us. “A weird night,” I confessed, keeping what I said open-ended so I could backtrack if I needed to. If talking about my “fake” boyfriend would be too much to handle.
“Weird?” She glanced at me as she set her books and highlighters into her bag, readying to leave. “Weird how?”
Go on.
Take a chance.
Tell her.
I was reaching the point that I’d go insane not talking about Sergei with someone. After Fitz died, it was so clear how alone Iwas. He was my whole world, setting up too much dependence on him by default.
Fitz was my first love. The only man in my life. I’d focused on our relationship as if it was the only one that mattered, and now, with him gone, I saw how stupid that mistake was. I needed friends. Acquaintances. Some kind of a support network.
Just tell her.
“Well, there’s this guy.”
Her instant smile proved this was a mistake. I groaned.
“No, no.” She waved her hands back and forth. “I’m not judging or thinking anything bad.” She smiled wider, sympathetic. “I’m not teasing. I’m… happy.”
“Happy?” I huffed a laugh and sat on the couch. She joined me, setting her bag by her feet.
“Yeah. If a woman looks as sullen and confused as you do, I’d hope it’s a man who’s making her challenge herself like that.”
“Itisa challenge,” I admitted. “I’m not ready to meet men or talk to them or want them or go kissing strangers and—” I sucked in a deep breath and shut up. Confiding in her with an unstoppable ramble wasn’t the goal here.
