“Like what?”
“Like you’re thinking about what would happen if I touched you again.”
The words land between us, dark and electric. I swallow hard. “You’re imagining things.”
“Am I?”
His eyes drop to my mouth, and my whole body reacts before my mind can catch up. My heartbeat trips, hard and uneven, the sound of it filling my ears. Every part of me feels drawn to him, like something inside knows what’s coming and doesn’t want to stop it. He leans in, close enough that I can feel the warmth of him, close enough that I forget how to breathe.
“Let me guess, your mother told you women fall for that look,” I blurt, the words tumbling out before I can stop them, my laugh too quick, too nervous to sound right.
He goes still. The change is instant. His hand drops, his expression hardens, and the warmth in his eyes disappears like it was never there.
I blink, confused. “What?”
He stands, pushing the chair back quietly. “We’re done for tonight.”
“Artyom—”
He doesn’t look at me. “Pack your things. We leave tomorrow afternoon.”
He pulls away, and something in my chest sinks fast, sharp, like a drop I didn’t see coming. I want to take the words back, to fix whatever I just broke, but I can’t even tell which part of it cut too deep.
He walks to the door, and I follow, not sure what I’m trying to fix. “I didn’t mean?—”
He stops at the threshold and finally turns to me. His face is calm again, but there’s distance in it, a wall I hadn’t seen before. “Get some sleep, Kira.”
Then he’s gone, the door closing quietly behind him.
I stand there for a long time, staring at the door he just walked through, the quiet stretching around me until it feels like the room itself is holding its breath. His touch is still on my skin, faint but impossible to forget. I tell myself I hate him, that I needed him to leave before I do something stupid, before I forgot who I am. But the lie sits heavy in my chest, and I already know it won’t hold because tomorrow I’ll see him again. Tomorrow, we leave for Italy.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Artyom
Milana’s voice cuts through the car like a siren—bright, relentless. Calina sits beside me, the picture of calm, scrolling through her phone while Milana talks enough for both of them.
“You should’ve warned her, Tyoma,” Milana says, grinning at her reflection in the window. “Dragging her to Sicily at such short notice? She’s probably barricading herself in.”
Calina glances up. “You enjoy provoking him.”
“I enjoy honesty.” Milana smirks. “You saw her. She’s terrified of him.”
I shift in my seat, ignoring her.Terrifiedisn’t the word I’d use. Cautious, maybe. Smart enough to recognize danger when she sees it. The kind of woman who still looks you in the eye even when she’s shaking.
“She’ll manage.”
“She’ll faint,” Milana corrects. “Or curse you in her sleep.”
“Probably both,” Calina murmurs, hiding a smile behind her cup.
I sigh, drumming my fingers once against my knee. They talk like this is a game, like bringing Kira into my world is some harmless experiment. They don’t understand what’s waiting on the other side of it or how fast something this fragile can break.
I clear my throat, “Are you two done?”
Milana grins wider, completely unbothered. “Not even close. Want me to go get her?”
“No,” I say, already opening the door. “I’ll do it myself.”
