SLOANE
His house looksdifferent as we pull into the driveway. Bigger somehow. Colder.
Maybe it’s knowing what he is now, what his family is. Or maybe it’s the fact that I know what I’m being forced to do inside these walls.
Kirill kills the engine, then circles to my side and opens the door. He doesn’t say anything, just looks at me, and the heat of it makes my body tighten. Like he’s seeing me on that stage all over again.
When he offers me his hand, I take it. His fingers close around mine—large, solid, and warm—and he doesn’t let go as he leads me up the steps, through the front doors, and down the hallway.
My mind won’t stay in the present. It keeps dragging me back to the gunshot, the man on the ground, and the way Kirill never once looked away from me through all of it.
Could he really be different than Barrett and Eli? Is that even possible?
He brings me to the same guest room as last time. The moment we step inside, he releases my hand, and I hate howquickly I feel the absence of him, how my fingers curl slightly like they’re still expecting his.
“You’ll stay here tonight.” That husky tone wraps around me. “Tomorrow, I will have someone bring your car from the club.”
“Thank you.” I fold my arms around myself. “My clothes and things are in the duffel in the backseat, so…that helps.”
His face tightens, like I just reminded him of that and he hates every second of it. “We will also go shopping.”
“What? No, I-I don’t want you to spend money on me. You’ve already done enough.”
His gaze sharpens, all that irritation and worry simmering together. “I did not ask if you wanted it. I’m simply telling you what’s going to happen.”
He closes the distance between us before I can step back. A loose strand of my hair falls forward, and he catches it between his fingers, slowly sliding it through them as those irises drop to my mouth.
My core clenches as I feel his touch, that gaze, in every part of me.
“You do what I say. Remember?” The faint smirk he gives me makes my heart stumble in my chest.
How could I forget?
A yawn slips out of me, my body finally catching up to everything that’s happened, though I don’t even think I can sleep tonight.
“Let me get you something to wear.”
His brows knit when he peers at me, almost like it pains him, and then he turns and leaves the room. The door shuts behind him, and the space immediately feels too big, too quiet, without him in it.
A minute later, he returns with a plain white T-shirt draped over his forearm, along with a white robe and towel.
“This is all I have right now.” He holds them out to me. “That will change tomorrow.”
I set the towel and robe on the chaise and take the shirt. The cotton is soft beneath my fingers and it smells like him, so I hold it a little tighter.
“Thank you.”
But what I really mean is,I don’t deserve this. Any of it. Not from you.
“You don’t ever need to thank me, malyshka.” His fingertips glide up my arm, leaving goose bumps behind. “And just so you know, you will get the money from the auction.”
My brows shoot up. “Really?”
Oh God, that’s a relief. My plan hinges on that money.
“Yes. You signed up for it, and the terms will be honored. But I don’t expect anything from you in return. Do you understand?”
Does he mean sex?
