I roll over and sit up. “About the revenge he mentioned, it’s not that serious.”
“He said I hurt you.”
My hand tightens around the phone. “You did.”
“When did I do that, Yulian?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Itdoesmatter.” He blows out a sigh. “Will you talk to me about it?”
“Maybe one day.”
“All right. I really have to go,” he says, but he’s not hanging up.
“Go, then.”
“One last thing.” He pauses for several long beats, and I pull my lower lip with my fingers, waiting with bated breath.
“What?” I finally ask.
“Thank you for last night. I never thought sex could feel like a mind-blowing out-of-body experience that can shift perspective. You showed me that I’ve been missing out, apparently, and I’m genuinely grateful for that. Talk soon.”
The line goes dead, and I fall back, on the verge of kicking my damn feet as I hug the phone to my chest.
Ohfuck.
I can’t stop grinning.
And laughing and smiling.
I think I finally converted Vaughn.
Took me four years—off and on—but I’vefinallydone it.
He’s so fucking mine, and nothing will change that.
Not even him.
I cameto the realization that a week is a long fucking time.
Seven days. Okay, five, whatever. Then twenty-four hours every single day?
Kill me.
Actually, don’t. I still haven’t had my fill of my Mishka yet.
So how do I keep myself occupied? Punching the shit out of people, of course.
To which Cy shakes his head on the regular.
And Vaughn texts that I betternotbe fighting. But how the hell would he know if he’s not here?
I slam my fist in Nikolai’s face, making him stumble back in the midst of the roar from the spectators.
“Hit back, Niko!” someone shouts from ringside—Jeremy, acting like Nikolai’s sidekick.
“You’re so doomed, you little bitch.” Nikolai swings at me and I guard, but his punch is strong, and I fall back a few inches.
