Anya and I exchanged a quick look as the front window slid down.
“Hello, ladies. Stranded?” the older man asked, practically poking his head out of the window.
His green eyes moved up and down my best friend’s body like someone examining a slice of beef at the farmer’s market.
“Oh, no,” Anya answered, wearing her polite-but-I-don’t-take-bullshit smile. “Thank you,kind sir.”
I pursed my lips to keep myself from laughing.
“I could give you a ride, it’s no problem at all. Your mechanic could come pick the car up later. You shouldn’t be out here this late.”
“Yeah, we’re fine. My husband is a few minutes away. Thank you,” she told him.
“Well, okay then.”
“Thank you,” she repeated.
He nodded before turning to his driver. The car sped off immediately.
“Yourhusband,” I uttered. “I thought we were both single.”
“First thing that came to mind. Not totally untrue though, someone is coming for us.”
“Not that his motivation was helping two stranded strangers,” I conceded. “He looked like he wanted to jump you.”
“In his senior citizen dreams,” she replied. “He’s got to be older than fifty.”
“His eyes caught the stunning eye candy, and he wanted to—”
“Oh, please,” she cut in, chuckling.
“Besides, I thought you didn’t mind age gaps,” I teased.
“Yeah, I still don’t. But not fifty. And certainly not someone who looks fifty. I mean, if he were a 30-year-old stud...” she explained, a slow smile crossing her lips, “I might reconsider.”
“Right. I—”
“He’s here!” she announced, cutting me off. “Told you.”
“Yeah, you did,” I mumbled absentmindedly as I watched the ‘cavalry’ arrive.
I knew Anya came from an above-average family—she was a Lobanov, after all—so I wasn’t expecting a beat-up sedan. I had expected her brother to arrive in a nice SUV or something similar. What I hadn’t imagined was a black armored SUV flanked by two other cars. It was an actual convoy. A small, controlled one, nonetheless.
The back door of the second car opened and, before I could ask my body not to react, a suited-up man stepped out into the snow as if he owned it.
“Hey, bro,” Anya greeted.
A slow blink was the only response he gave.
Damn, he was tall. Taller than I’d imagined. Anya was two inches taller than my 5’6” height but he was several inches taller. He had to be 6’2” at least. His cool expression also told me he was sharper and more commanding than Anya’s occasional descriptions. His auburn hair shone in the glow of the streetlights. Slipping his hands into his pockets as he approached us, his long strides showed the confidence of someone who controlled the world without speaking.
His eyes flicked to me for a brief second, and something stuttered inside me.
“Why didn’t you call your mechanic immediately? I don’t need to tell you it’s dangerous for you to be out here, do I?” he asked his sister, looking her over for injuries, his face showing none of the irritation or affection in his voice.
“Hello to you, too,” she answered before turning to me. “Mila, this is my beloved brother, Alexei.”
His eyes landed on me again. They didn’t move away this time, and I could feel my pulse in my throat.
