"I don’t know," he says, voice bored. "I don’t stay long enough to find out."
I blink. "Of course you don’t."
He stares back at me as he pulls back the sheets on his side, holding my gaze as if he couldn't care less what I think about his sleeping arrangements.
"They’re naked when I leave," he adds. "What they do after that isn’t my concern."
My stomach flips in a way I absolutely hate.
I roll my eyes hard enough to strain something. "Wow," I mutter. "How romantic."
"I’m not romantic," he says simply. "And trust me, no one comes to me for romance."
He delivers the facts as if they are only that… facts, but something about it feels like a hollow existence. Almost like he knows it too but it can’t be avoided.
"Right," I say lightly. "Because God forbid you waste time on a woman once you’re finished with her."
His shoulders go still.
"Careful, Natalia," he says quietly.
I lift my chin. "Careful of what?"
"Thinking you know me."
"I don't want to know you," I shoot back, snapping my laptop shut. "And I'm not trying to. I just want to fix your mess and go home."
"Good," he says, turning away again like the conversation bores him. "Because I don’t hire people, I want in my bed."
My pulse jumps despite my best effort not to be affected by him.
He reaches up and turns off the only nightstand light, turning the chalet mostly dark except for the glow of my laptop screen and the white blizzard highlighted by the reflective moon.
I shut my laptop and move it to the nightstand. "Don’t worry. I’m not interested."
There’s a moment of silence and then, in the dark, his voice comes low and maddeningly calm.
"Get some sleep," he says, already done with me. "You’ll need the energy."
"For what?" I bite out.
His answer is immediate.
"You’ve got a flight to catch—"
Just as he finishes, a crack hits like a gunshot.
A deep, splintering groan of something massive giving way outside. The kind of sound that belongs in a disaster film right before someone saysrun… and then every light in the chalet cuts out at once. The digital clock on the nightstand. The soft green glow of the thermostat. The low hum of the heat registers along the baseboards.
Gone.
Total darkness, besides the reflective brightness of the snow outside piercing through the slats in the wooden window blinds. Total silence, except for the wind screaming against the glass like it's trying to get in.
"Was that a tree?" My voice a little shaky.
I hear Luka sit up, and barely make out his silhouette. The rustle of the duvet, the quiet certain weight of his feet hitting the floor.
"Stay there," he says.
