Nibbling my lower lip, I lean forward and reach for his arm. I feel nothing but solid muscle beneath the black jacket as he narrows his eyes at me. Not one to back down from a challenge, I hold his gaze, and vaguely remember watching some animal documentary about predators. What was the rule when you caught eye contact? Never look away first? So I heldhis hardened gaze, and slide my hand down his arm, over his forearm, and up to his shoulder.
He is chiseled, just like the very marble I chisel sculptures out of. An idea suddenly flashes in my mind of a new potential piece to create next. A muscular torso out of black marble. Laced with golden streaks. A streak of brilliant blue crushed glass slashed from the right shoulder to the left hip. I see it so clearly I gasp and smile; exhilarated by the sudden burst of inspiration.
“What are you doing?” he asks me, his tone wary. He still hasn’t looked away. Neither have I.
“Looking for a soft spot,” I purr, squeezing his bicep. “Surely there’s one in there somewhere.”
That flare of temptation returns to the man’s gaze, and his jaw twitches.
“I don’t have soft spots,” he grits out.
“On the outside of your body? No, I can certainly see that is true,” I reply.
“Not on the inside either,” he warns in a flat tone.
Realizing my flirtation isn’t going to get me anywhere, I sigh, and finally blink. I look through the window, and see a group of men eyeing the cab and shift uncomfortably. I have my taser inmy purse- but my purse is at home. I opted for the wristlet that was only big enough to hold her phone and money earlier.
“I wish I was the same,” I murmur. “But I’m soft everywhere. Inside. Outside.”
The cabby finally looks away from my eyes to the follow my line of sight, and he lets out a sigh of annoyance when he sees the group of men nearby.
“Fine,” he grits, wringing the steering wheel with his hands. “I’ll take you to your hotel.”
Relief floods through me as he puts the car into drive and pulls away from the side of the street.
“Thank you,” I breathe with relief, and genuinely mean it. Still holding on to his arm I lean toward him again. “This means a lot to me- um, what is your name?”
“None of your business,” he snaps, turning into traffic.
I can’t help but flinch at his curt tone, and he must have felt it because he lets out another sigh and adds, “I mean, it’s not like it matters anyway. We’re just strangers that’ll never meet again. I don’t need your name. You don’t need mine.”
I nod. I suppose that is true and in the spirit of truth I decided that I like his blunt honesty. It isn’t often I get to hear it. Apart from my art dealer, Max, and my little sister, Valya, everyoneelse in my life caters to me a little too much thanks to who my father is.
I frown at the thought, knowing that the position of my father is the reason why I have to get married to a stranger in the first place. He has loved me. Catered to me. But now, just like everyone else, he’s using me as a pawn to gain higher status for himself.
My frown deepens as these thoughts circle my mind, and I let my hand slip away from the driver’s arm and slide back into the seat. Tonight was supposed to be about me. It was guided by me. And I’ve failed.
“We’re here,” the driver grunts, pulling up to the illuminated front entrance of the grand hotel.
Through the window I looked with disinterest at the finery before me. I booked the room to have a night of passion. Now I'm just going to bed like every other night- alone.
“I don’t want to go in,” I say.
The man whirls on me again, giving me that now-familiarare you insanelook that I’m actually starting to like.
“You just spent the last thirty minutes suckering me into getting you here, now you’re refusing to get out?” he asks.
I rake my gaze over him slowly, finding the scowl on his face more attractive than intimidating, and decide to give my night of freedom one last chance.
“I mean I don’t want to go in alone,” I tell him, leaning forward with my most flirtatious smile. “I wantyouto come with me.”
Chapter Three
Kirill
“I…”
I’m not a man to be rendered speechless. After the life I've lived, after becoming thePahkanso young, I’ve learned to think and act on my feet. Yet this beautiful, stubborn woman who’d practically takenmehostage has my mouth opening and gaping like a fish.
