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“Thanks,” I murmur, my cheeks flushing at his proximity and the fact that it makes my heart pound erratically.
He simply nods, then accepts the steaming mug of black coffee I pour for him. His body vanishes from beside me as soon as he’s been served, and he walks clear across the kitchen to lean against the far counter as if determined to put as much space between us as possible.
Pouring a mug for myself, I cradle it between my palms as I turn to face him. “I’m sorry for last night,” I murmur, staring down at the rich brown liquid. “Thank you for having my brother’s back and looking out for me.” Biting the bullet and owning up to my terrible behavior, I force myself to meet Mishka’s watchful eyes as I finish my apology. “I acted immaturely, and I appreciate that you stepped in before things got too out of hand.”
Mishka nods, giving me the sense that it’s his way of accepting my apology. “Do you often throw yourself at random strangers?” His tone is dry as his dark eyebrows disappear beneath the wild mess of hair that falls perfectly over his forehead. He takes a sip of coffee, momentarily uncrossing his arms to expose his exquisitely sculpted, ink-covered chest.
The question stings, immediately raising my defenses and wiping away my feeling of guilt. My savior seems perfectly comfortable with offending me, and that makes it far more challenging to feel bad about yelling at him.
“What makes you think you can ask me something like that?” I demand. “You know nothing about me, so you have no room to judge me. Besides, what would it matter if I did throw myself at strange men? You clearly don’t like me, so why should you care whom I dance with?”
Irritation flashes across his strong face, and his stormy blue eyes grow more mercurial. His lips part as if to tell me exactly why he thinks he can speak to me like he did. But before the words come out, my brother enters the room.
Tense silence fills the space as his eyes dart between me and Mishka. He takes in the fact that I’m not wearing any pants before he narrows his eyes at Mishka’s bare chest.
“Where’s your shirt?” he asks suspiciously.
The gorgeous, self-righteous jerk shrugs nonchalantly. “It had blood on it, so I took it off.”
My stomach knots at the comment. Sure, the guy was a jerk and touched me inappropriately, but I still feel bad that Viktor kicked him hard enough to make him cough up blood. But that’s my family, perfectly comfortable with extreme measures and ruling with an iron fist.
Before I have much time to think about it, my brother’s eyes shift back to me. “And where are your pants? You shouldn’t be walking around half-naked in front of men—even if they work for the family.”
I roll my eyes. “I didn’t realize he spent the night. I just came to get some coffee. And do you have to be so obnoxious right now? You could try talking a little more quietly, too. My head’s killing me.”
Leaning back against the counter, I sip the hot, bitter brew and let my eyes sink closed.
Viktor chuckles. “Poor little sister. That’s what you get for being a first-rate pain in the ass last night,” he teases, not bothering to keep his voice down. He enters the kitchen to snag the empty coffee mug beside me and pours himself a cup. “How are you enjoying the hangover? Ready to go back out tonight? I bet we could find another sleazeball for you to rub up against.”
Though I came out of my room this morning feeling contrite, suddenly, my frustration with both of them skyrockets. “Get over yourself, Viktor. How many times have you come home after a rowdy night, and I’ve never given you crap, so you can just lay off for the one time I decided to let loose?” I snap, pushing off from the counter and slamming down my mug as I turn to face him.
The motion makes my head throb, but I refuse to rub my temples like I want to and provoke more glib remarks.
But to my surprise, Viktor gives me a smile of contrition. “You’re right. I’m done. I guess I didn’t mind babysitting you the one time.”
He winks, and it’s impossible to stay mad at my brother when he stops teasing me.
Letting my hands drop from my hips, I pick up my coffee once again. As I sip, my eyes dart surreptitiously in Mishka’s direction. It feels like he’s been present for all my bickering with Viktor lately, and I hate how childish it makes me sound.
“Go put on some clothes, and I’ll take you home,” my brother offers, drawing my attention back to him.
“Thanks.” Cradling my cup of coffee, I leave the kitchen, and though I don’t dare look behind me, I can’t help the feeling that Mishka’s eyes watch me walk away.
At least I hope they do.
6
MISHKA
“I’m heading out,” I state as soon as Alina vanishes back into her bedroom.
The sight of her long legs and her perfect ass that the oversized T-shirt just barely covered made it nearly impossible not to watch her walk away. And now I have a half-chub and the need to get out of here before her brother catches me admiring her body.
“You want a ride?” Viktor offers. “If you wait a few, I can drop you off before I take Alina home.”
I can’t imagine being stuck in the car with her right now. I need a cold shower and a serious wakeup call. I don’t know why, but Alina continues to confound me—as does my unruly attraction to her that only seems to grow despite myself.
“Nah, I’m good, man. I’ll take the T.”
