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I snap my mouth closed as soon as I realize what I’m saying. Hope is Team Yakov all the way. I know where her loyalties lie. She isn’t someone I should confide in or complain to.
Then she surprises me by nodding. “Mr. Kulikov has been leaving you alone a lot.”
I turn to her. “Is that normal for him?”
How many other women have wasted away under his roof, desperate for his attention? The thought that I’m just another in a long line makes me feel nauseous.
“What?” she sputters. “No. This isn’t normal at all.”
“Oh.”
Maybe Yakov really doesn’t like me. It’s just some kind of raw sexual attraction that keeps pulling us together. As soon as that’s gone, I’ll be on my ass in the street, fending for myself.
“No, I didn’t mean—” She lays a hand on my knee and squeezes. “I meant that it’s not normal for him to have a woman here at all. Ever.”
“Yeah, right. Look at him. You probably had to put the gate up to keep women out.”
Hope bites her lip, trying not to smile. “Whether or not Mr. Kulikov spends time with other women is his business. I don’t want to invade his privacy.”
“Liar,” I laugh. “You’d love to know what he gets up to in private as much as I would.”
“Fine. I want to know, but it wouldn’t be professional for me to invade his privacy,” she corrects, looking to me for approval.
I wave her on. “Now, that I believe. Continue.”
“But he has never once, in all the time I’ve worked for him and his father, brought a woman back to the mansion. Ever.” She looks deep into my eyes, trying to impress upon me the full meaning of what she’s saying.
“He has never brought a woman home with him? How is that even possible?”
She shrugs. “All I know is you are the first woman he has ever brought back to the house.”
I think back to that first night at the restaurant. He asked me to come home with him like it was nothing. Like it was something he did all the time.
That isn’t exactly surprising. Yakov does everything with an ease that comes from absurdly high amounts of self-confidence. Most of which is, even more annoyingly, well deserved. The man is gorgeous and charming when he wants to be. Most women would jump at the chance to go home with him. I did.
A pesky bud of hope starts to bloom in my chest.
I crush it before it has a chance.
“I’m only here because he’s trying to protect me,” I tell her sternly. “I don’t think I count. Especially since Yakov has told me on multiple occasions that he never would have brought me here if he didn’t have to.”
Extenuating circumstances led to all of this. If he hadn’t gotten that call in the middle of dinner, I would be alone in my apartment right now, deciding which show to binge watch and whether boxed red wine or boxed white wine went better with my frozen pizza.
Hope shrugs. “You could be right, but I wouldn’t be so sure. The fact that he cared enough about you to want to protect you means something.”
Do I fuck you like someone who doesn't care about you, Luna?
My face flames from the memory. I quickly look away so Hope won’t notice. No need to share that development with her. That little kernel will stay between me and Yakov.
Hope leans in, voice low. “Yakov doesn’t let people in, Luna. The fact that you’re here means something.” I want to ask her what she thinks it means, but she stands up and dusts off her pants. “I need to get back to work before anyone notices I’m gone.”
“I thought you were on break.”
She holds a finger to her lips and smiles. “An unofficial break. Don’t tell anyone.”
I zip my fingers across my lips. “Your secret is safe with me.”
Hope follows the stone path up towards the house while my mind takes another lap of the same thoughts and questions I’ve been mulling over all morning—now with one notable addition.
