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12
Lilyana
Three hours earlier…
Ican’t bring myself to give Heidi the full story of my eventful evening, but luckily, she’s happy to ramble on about her date instead. It’s a relief when we finally start work on the composition, and after a couple of hours spent rewriting, her piece is in good shape. She skips off to the gym, and I remain at Juilliard awhile, pretending to do my own work while I pick through my thoughts.
Arman promised we’d talk about what happened last night. I had been secretly hoping that it was all just a hallucination or something, but that wasn’t the case.
He took me to the brink of ecstasy, only to turn away. I never thought he’d treat me like a toy when he looked at me like I was the most valuable thing on Earth.
I considered telling Vlad about it but dismissed the idea. My oldest brother is fiercely protective of me, and I don’t want Arman’s murder on my conscience. I’m surprised he isn’t more cautious; I’d only have to say the word to bring the furious might of the Kislev bratva upon him.
By the time I’m ready to leave Juilliard, I’ve resolved to have it out with Arman. He can play his games, but I won’t let him con me with his hot kisses and warm, skilled hands. I’d rather live a lie than be fooled into believing it.
I head toward Starbucks, muttering irritably to myself. A black car passes me; it has dark tinted windows and no license plate. A man in a chauffeur’s uniform is behind the wheel, and for a moment, I wonder if he’ll ask for directions, but he drives away.
I put it out of my mind and focus on rehearsing the upcoming conversation with Arman in my head.
Can I look him in the eye and say I don’t want him? Of course I can, but the truth is, I respond to his touch as if I’m ravenous for it. If I let him use my body, what kind of fool would that make me?
An engine purrs behind me, and I glance over my shoulder to see the same car that passed me earlier creeping up behind me. The sun is glaring, making it impossible to see the driver’s face under his peaked cap. I wait, half-expecting a catcall or an insult, but it doesn’t come. The car continues to trail me like a stalking predator.
I turn around abruptly, and the car comes to a sudden stop. My heart races as I wait to see who might step out, but nothing happens, so I break into a skipping run and cross the road fast, darting into Starbucks. The car pulls away quickly, and I exhale through pursed lips.
I didn’t panic. Good job, Lilyana.
I text Arman, asking him to pick me up, but I keep the message brief. He responds, letting me know he’s on his way.
As I wait for my order, I ponder what to do. Scary as it was, nothing happened; stalking someone from a car is undoubtedly creepy, but I have no license plate or detailed description to provide. All I could say was that a car slowed down behind me and gave me a scare.
The more I think about it, the more I wonder if I’m just being paranoid. I’m probably just hypervigilant to both real and imagined threats. Maybe the driver was just lost, but if I tell Arman, it could lead to an innocent man getting his head caved in.
I walk back to Juilliard to find Arman waiting for me beside an unfamiliar car.
“You’ve got a Bugatti Veyron?” I ask.
“No. Mine’s in the shop. Some asshole scratched it to shit.” He frowns. “What’s the matter? You got words wrong in your message, which means you’re worked up.”
I decide not to tell him about the car. “I guess I am. “Arman, about last night—”
He raises his palm, immediately silencing me, and I’m surprised at myself. “I’ve thought it over, and there’s nothing to discuss,” he says. “You can’t control your feelings, and if you ever feel that way again, I’m more than willing to help you out. Don’t overthink it, tsvetok. You’re young, and you’ll eventually move past it.” He grins. “Now, let’s head home and get ready.”
He awakened my desires with his touch, and now he’s telling me not to worry about my schoolgirl crush on him. And to add insult to injury, he’s offering to sleep with me as though he’s doing me a favor?
I climb into the car without saying a word, and he takes the driver’s seat.
“You’re a piece of work,” I finally say. “Are your promises worth so little?”
He starts the engine, giving me a puzzled look. “What do you mean? I said I’d always protect you. How am I not doing that?”
Ah, I see. He’s ensuring I understand that he’ll never give me his heart. How honorable.
“Never mind.” I remember his words from a minute ago. “Get ready? For what?”
“We’re going to Piccolo Cueco tonight,” he explains. “Sasha told me he’s made a reservation for the Barones and other associates It’s our opportunity to mingle and showcase the authenticity of our relationship before the wedding.”
“A date.” I fold my arms, slumping in my seat. “At my brother’s restaurant, to impress your buddies and make them believe you care about me. I never knew you were such a romantic.”
