He narrows his eyes at me. “Are you okay?”
He starts to reach for me, but stops himself abruptly, his fingers curling into a fist like he’s physically forcing himself not to touch me.
“No, I’m not,” I snap, hating the way my voice trembles with something other than fear. “You need to let me go. You disgust me, and I don’t want to be anywhere near you.”
I mean the opposite of what I say, but he doesn’t have to know that. All he has to do is let me go before this turns into something neither of us can take back.
“No,” he says gruffly, a muscle in his jaw ticking.
He turns away, his shoulders rigid beneath the pale fabric of his shirt as he walks out of the bedroom. His steps are slow and controlled, but I still catch the tension in the way his hand drags once over his jaw, like he needs the space as badly as I do.
Maybe even more.
When he closes the door behind him and I hear his footsteps fade down the hallway, I storm back to the bathroom, swipe my hand over the fogged mirror, and stare at my own reflection.
I can barely recognize myself.
Just a couple of days ago I had my life in order, and now I’m the prisoner of the scariest man I’ve ever met. As if that isn’t enough shit to deal with already, my thoughts are a mess, too.
The truth settles heavily in my chest, impossible to ignore.
Resisting Leonid is getting harder, and little by little, I’m losing whatever fight I thought I had left when I woke up in this room two days ago.
I’m falling for Leonid.
Chapter Six
Leonid
Henry Miller’s missing.
I glare at my phone, reading the text over and over again. This doesn’t make any sense. Within a span of two days, we’ve been investigating the possibility of a mole and I’ve taken Elena hostage as a suspect. And then…Henry goes missing?
Tossing my phone on the mahogany table, I drag my hand over my head. It makes no sense, unless something’s very wrong with him. Something like him being a big part of this entire scheme to fuck me up.
If there’s any truth to my suspicions, I wonder if Elena knows where he is.
A knock on the door catches my attention. I sigh and steeple my hands in front of me.
“Come in.”
The door swings open and Artem enters, holding a brown folder. “You okay, boss?” he asks, looking at me with concern.
I sigh again and start to rub my temples. “I heard about Henry Miller.”
“Me, too. The son of a bitch seems to have a hand in this,” he says. “We should’ve taken him, too.”
“We should’ve.”
What are the odds that the enemy sent two spies to keep an eye on my yacht? Maybe there are even more, and I got lucky catching Elena. God help Henry he’s truly one of them. He can run, but he can’t hide from me forever.
I’ll find him and whoever the fuck he works for. No matter what it takes.
“Do you want me to run a search for him?” Artem asks, watching me carefully. He’s one of those people who can read my thoughts and predict how I’d like to handle business beforeI even speak. It’s one reason why I like him, though it’s also a reason to be wary of him.
But we grew up together. As annoying as the fucker is, I actually trust him.
Trust is a dangerous concept, but he and Mikhail are the only ones I feel that way about. We grew up together, and we’ve had each other’s backs through life and death.
