She meets my gaze without hesitation. “No. I don’t feel anything for him at all,” she answers honestly.
I lean forward slightly, elbows resting on my knees.
“You understand why I needed to know this,” I say.
She nods. “Because he could still be a threat.”
“Yes,” I say. “He’s clearly still chasing you, which means you won’t be safe until he’s eliminated.”
Her body recoils at that. I know she doesn’t like hearing about the details, but I need her to understand where this stands.
This won’t end in any other way but his death.
17
ALINA
Ithink about our conversation for hours while I work on my sketch. Not about Kostya. I don’t care about that. As far as I’m concerned, Andrei can do whatever he pleases with Kostya. I never want to hear about him again.
The way he reacted when I told him Kostya and I never had sex, though, is living rent-free in my head.
Now he’s sitting across the space from me, focused on something on his computer, shoulders tight with the kind of tension that never really leaves him anymore. He’s coiled so tightly it feels like one wrong word might snap something loose.
I try to focus on my sketch, to get the lines just right and finally put on page the ideas for my future hotel that have been building up in my brain. I’m lying to myself, though, if I pretend it’s anything more than a distraction to stop thinking about our conversation.
I keep replaying that one moment. The look on his face when I admitted I was a virgin before him. He hid it quickly, of course.He’s not a man to wear his emotions on his sleeve. It wasn’t quick enough, though.
I saw the jealousy plainly on his face. It quickly changed to something else, almost a possessiveness, before he managed to hide it completely, replacing his careful mask.
The memory sends a slow warmth spreading through my chest, down my stomach, lower. I shift slightly on the couch, pressing my knees together without meaning to. It shouldn’t feel good to think about him wanting me.
None of this should feel good.
My life is falling apart. I’m trapped in a safehouse with a man who lives in a world I barely understand. Someone is trying to kill him. My ex-fiancé is clearly involved somehow. And on top of that, I’m pregnant and terrified. Everything is completely out of control.
Still, I can’t stop thinking about that look in his eyes that felt like control of a different kind. Like being wanted so intensely it borders on danger. My pulse picks up just thinking about it.
I try to push the feeling away. It’s reckless. Stupid. The exact opposite of what I should be doing right now. If anything, I should be putting distance between us. Protecting myself from getting pulled in any deeper.
Instead, all I can think about is the way his hands felt on me the last time we had sex. The way he looked at me like I was the only person in the world. The way everything inside me went quiet with fire when he touched me.
My breath comes a little shorter.
I glance toward him before I can stop myself.
He hasn’t noticed me watching. Or maybe he has and he’s pretending not to. With him, it’s impossible to tell. His expression is calm, but there’s something simmering just beneath it, something restless and sharp.
He looks tired. Both physically and mentally. This situation is weighing on him even more heavily than it’s weighing on me. It’s pressing down on him hard enough to show through his carefully crafted veneer.
The thought twists painfully in my chest. Before I can talk myself out of it, I stand and start walking toward him.
He senses me before I speak. His eyes lift from the screen, locking onto mine instantly. The intensity of it hits me like a physical thing, stealing the air from my lungs for a second.
“Are you okay?” he asks softly.
I shake my head. “No.”
The word comes out thinner than I expect. Honest in a way that feels exposed. His gaze studies my face, searching for something. Worry, maybe. Fear. He’s always looking for threats, even the invisible ones.
