That’s what I am, isn’t it? He paid for me. He owns me. He can dismiss me with two words whenever he grows bored.
Amanda’s words return to me, not the ones about my body, but the ones about being Gabriel’s type and how I’m far from it.
I push off the wall and head for the linen closet, grabbing fresh sheets for the guest rooms, my hands still shaking.
I need to get out of here.
Last night was fun. But I can’t stay in a house where I’m invisible one moment and worshiped the next.
I won’t be his dirty little secret, and I sure as hell won’t be his possession.
CHAPTER 10
GABRIEL
“Whiskey?”
I wait until Kolya is seated before I close the office door.
He’s already made himself comfortable. He’s sprawled in the leather chair across from my desk like he owns it, one leg crossed over the other, arms draped over the rests. He’s the picture of relaxed confidence.
Or so he wants me to think. I know it’s an act.
I’ve known Kolya Sokolov for twenty years—long enough to be able to read the tells, like the way his jaw tightens when he’s cornered, and the slight tremor he gets in his left hand that he thinks no one notices.
But he’s developed a new one—a sheen of sweat that develops at his temples despite the temperature.
This tell is the most important one of all.
It means he’s dying.
Not today. Not tomorrow. But soon enough.
And he knows I know.
He shifts in his seat.
“Vodka. Cold.”
“Certainly.”
I pour myself a bit of whiskey before fishing out the bottle of Beluga Noble I keep specifically for Kolya, for these rare meetings of ours. I hand him his glass before settling into my chair with my own.
The desk is between us, a calculated distance.
He sips his vodka, a warm, pleased smile spreading across his face.
“You know,” he says, “whenever I drink this, I find myself wondering if this is the time you’ve poisoned it to be done with me forever.”
I allow myself a chuckle.
“And whenever you’re sprawled in that chair like that, I wonder if this is the time that you’ll pull out a hidden weapon and do what you’ve been fantasizing about for years.”
He laughs, and so do I. But the sound is mirthless, dry.
It’s the truth. Both of us would love to see the other out of the picture.
“So. You wanted to talk. Talk.”
