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Aleks chuckles again, his eyes glinting with malicious intent. “Oh, don’t you worry, little doll. Someone will reach out to you when the time comes.”
The sudden dampness on my cheeks catches me off guard, and I realize that I’ve been crying like a damn faucet. I swipe the tears away with the back of my hand, taking a deep breath to steady myself. As he leaves my dingy apartment, I sink onto a tattered sofa and struggle to pull myself together.
You can do this, Sophia. There are some blessings to be thankful for.
Nana’s condition has finally stabilized, probably because she’s too stubborn to let anything keep her down. Damn fighter that she is. Dr. Peguero has moved her to a normal ward – nothing fancy, but at least she’s out of the woods for now.
“Your nana’s one hell of a fighter, Sophia,” Dr. Peguero had said, “Just like you.”
I scraped together every last cent of my pitiful savings, which I’d been hoarding for my own education, and used it to pay a portion of her medical bills. I’d been dreaming of studying art, but that ship has apparently sailed off to some distant, unreachable shore. Life just loves to kick you when you’re down, doesn’t it?
Thud!
Thud!
I’m jolted from the memory by a sudden, hard knock on my apartment door. Hesitantly, I open the door, only to be greeted by the sight of a nasty-looking man.
He’s bald, with a face that could only be carved from a lifetime of bad decisions and brutal violence. An acrid stench of sweat and stale cigarette smoke clings to him like a shroud, making my stomach churn. His cold, dead eyes seem to bore right through me as if I’m nothing more than a piece of meat.
“You go now,” he grunts, his gravelly voice thickened by a Russian accent.
He lights a cigarette and leans against the wall, impatiently watching as I take one last look around my apartment. “Fast!” he barks, raising his voice this time.
Prick! I curse under my breath but quickly lock up the door, not daring to defy him.
I step into the room, and my eyes instantly land on Luka. He leans casually against a table, dressed in a tailored black suit that hugs his body like a sinful whisper. His still-damp hair looks like he’s just emerged from the depths of the ocean.
What, is he trying to be Aquaman or some shit?
The sight of him is making me feel things I haven’t felt since… Well, the last time we were together. Standing among the sea of nanny candidates, I try not to be too obvious. Still, the surprise on his face is evident, his eyes widening in recognition as if he never expected me to be there. The shock is tangible.
What’s going through his mind?
Our gazes lock, and the intensity between us builds. It feels like the room has shrunk, leaving only the two of us standing in this electric, charged space. We stand in silence, neither of us moving, as if we’re caught in an invisible tug-of-war, neither willing to give in.
Jesus, how does he look so fucking irresistible in broad daylight?
It’s as if he’s a walking, talking wet dream.
“Ahem!” a voice breaks in.
I wrench my gaze from the potent snare of Luka’s eyes and redirect my focus to the head maid.
“What?” I ask, feeling a little disoriented.
“Over there,” the woman barks at me, her eyes filled with disdain as she gestures to a spot at the back of the line of girls waiting for their interviews.
Shit. She’s been such a colossal bitch since she laid eyes on me.
I do my best to avoid Luka’s gaze, but it’s like trying to resist the pull of gravity. I can’t help but sneak a quick glimpse of him, and every time I do, I’m sucked right back in.
He catches my eye, his mouth curling into a wicked, knowing smirk. His eyes latch onto mine, the magnetic intensity between us undeniable. It’s as if he’s just stumbled upon a treasure he’d long thought lost. I wonder what twisted game he’s playing at now. He’s staring right at me, his eyes lock onto mine with a magnetic intensity.
When he breaks the stare, it’s not much of a reprieve. His gaze slowly travels over my body, lingering on every curve and hollow with a burning hunger that feels as though it could ignite my skin. It’s an unapologetic, visceral eye-fuck, and the room feels like it’s shrinking under the weight of his lustful scrutiny. His smile is the kind that promises a world of filthy delights, and I shiver at the thought. It’s as if he’s telepathically undressing me in front of all these people, and, God help me, I’d probably let him.
I feel like a martini – shaken, not stirred – in the presence of a dangerously sexy James Bond. The way he’s staring at me is both amusing and nerve-wracking, as if I’ve accidentally wandered into a steamy, adult spy thriller where I’m suddenly the main attraction.
I can feel his sexual energy pulsing through the room like a throbbing beat. My body instinctively reacts to him, aching for his touch. I peel my gaze from him, desperately trying to pretend I don’t know him, but I can still feel his intense stare burning into me like molten lava. My face is practically on fire, but I force myself to look around the room instead.
