I try to keep the panic out of my voice. My attempts are borderline. Rico’s pendulum-swinging moods startle me, but I’d rather be attached to his hip than be left to defend myself in a house of horror with a lady who looks like a slight summer breeze could blow her away.
“I'll be up in a few, Kitten.” Before I can plead with him, he peers past my shoulder to Maya and says, “Take her now.”
Unlike his earlier tone, this time his request comes out with a bite of demand. I’m not the only one who notices Rico’s new superiority; Maya jumps to his command by intertwining her arm with mine and pacing toward the stairwell. For a girl who has twig-sized arms and legs, she has a lot of gusto in her core. She drags me through the lobby like I'm the one who is twenty pounds lighter.
Just as we climb the first step, I crank my neck back to Rico. He's standing toe-to-toe with the gentleman everyone seems frightened of.Everyone except him.He looks him directly in the eyes as they speak in Russian, not the slightest bit intimidated that their exchange has caught them the attention of over a dozen pairs of eyes. It's a scary, yet riveting confrontation.
When we reach the landing of the stairs, I turn my eyes to Maya. “Maya, who is the man Rico is speaking with?”
Maya’s throat works hard to swallow before she whispers, “Father.”
My head rockets back to Rico so fast, my neck screams in protest.
“That’s Rico’s father?” My words come out tainted with disbelief.
Maya doesn’t need to answer my question. I reach my own conclusion when Rico’s eyes lock with mine for a fleeting second. Even though his lips don’t move, I hear his silent plea. “Go, Kitten, before you once again dance with the devil.”
Chapter 12
Three hours have ticked by on the clock, and I’ve not seen hide nor hair of Rico. Maya accompanied me to the room I awoke in last week, supplied me with a hearty Russian dinner of a Reuben sandwich and attempted to teach me how to play a Russian card game: Durak.
Although Maya’s English is best described as poor, it isn’t her lack of vocabulary that has our girly night coming to a close. It's my heavy eyelids. I'm beyond exhausted.
After bidding farewell to Maya, I head to the bathroom. I stare at the gorgeous clawfoot bath, hoping it will garner me with an upwelling of energy to draw it, as a few hours soaking in a warm tub sound like heaven. Unfortunately, although it’s tempting, I don't think I can keep my eyelids open long enough to fully enjoy it. So, instead, I turn on the double shower at the side of the tub and start shedding my clothes, leaving them where they fall.
Have you ever been so tired, you wonder if you're still awake or if you're dreaming? That's how I feel right now.
Once all my clothing is removed, I step into the steam-filled space. Hot water pummels my body, waking me from my sleeping state. Leaning deeper into the spray, water pours down my cheeks and rolls over my heavy breasts, triggering a hidden memory to rush to the surface. . .
Using a lavender-colored shower puff, I slather every inch of my body with soap suds, being extra cautious not to touch my newly inked skin. When I step into the spray, hot water sluices the front of me at the same time the warmth of a body molds my back. A large hand with a ruby and diamond wedding band wrapped around the third finger curls around my stomach. Even with the shower filled with muggy dampness, goosebumps follow the trail the hand makes as it slithers up the smooth planes of my stomach to cup my tingling-with-desire breast.
“I thought you didn’t want a shower?” My voice comes out throatier than normal. It has a sexy edge to it.
"I didn't… until I realized it was ten more minutes I could spend with you."
A ghost of a smile stretches across my face. It turns into a full smile when I feel his erection pressing into my back. He's thick and long, extending from the swell of my lower back to halfway up my spine.
“Only ten minutes,” I jest, my tone a unique mix of playfulness and seduction. “Feels like a whole lot more than ten minutes.”
The deep richness of his laugh quickly fills the room. It's a beautiful laugh. Following my body’s desires, I spin around. . .
“No!” I slant into the water, hoping it will bring back my memory. “You can’t end it there.”
Even knowing in my heart the man in the shower was Rico, I want to see it, recall it, cherish it. It doesn't matter if I'm unearthing two seconds of my memories with him or two minutes, a range of emotions wallop into me with every one I discover. And no, it isn't all based on my libido. Unveiling my memories is like working on a Rubik’s cube. It seems like a complicated waste of time. But once I achieve the seemingly impossible, I'll have a better understanding of the little square box with the six unique colors.
Rico is my Rubik’s cube. I didn't just marry him because I was drugged, so I want to discover what else drew me to him that night. Yes, even behind his cloaked-in-danger facade, Rico is insanely gorgeous, but I know deep down inside, it wasn't just his good looks that made me agree to marry a stranger. So until I discover the other reasons, I’ll not stop hunting until every lost memory is unearthed.
Switching off the shower, I curl a fluffy white towel around my body and use another to secure my wet hair. Because I forgot to turn on the exhaust fan, the floor to wall mirror attached to the double sink vanity is covered with steam. It's probably for the best, as I don’t need to see myself to know how wretched I look. I can feel it.
My lazy steps stop halfway out the door, closely followed by the beat of my heart when an awareness of being watched smacks into me. My heart rate—although agile—returns when I discover a pair of dark eyes peering at me from across the room. Rico is sitting on a high-backed chair. His suit jacket has been removed, and the sleeves of his dress shirt have been rolled up to his elbows. After his eyes finish raking the length of my body, he locks his heavy-hooded gaze with me. I take a retreating step, unnerved by the darkness of his eyes. They are the blackest I’ve seen them.
“Come here, Kitten.” His voice is throaty and spine-tingling deep.
With my heart walloping in my chest, I shake my head, denying his request.
He slants his head to the side and strengthens his glare before repeating, "Come here, Kitten," for the second time.
The authority in his tone has me pushing off my feet and padding towards him before my brain has the chance to register a complaint. I’ve never been an overly confrontational person, and tonight is clearly no different. Even though I'm following his command to a T, every step I take alters the power between us. Not only do his eyes reveal that I’m not the only one confused by our weird kinship—he's just as baffled as me—they also show there was something more than a laced drink guiding my decisions last week. I'm in a house that would make the burliest men quake in their boots, but with Rico looking at me like he is now, all my insecurities fade into the horizon. It's just me and him—the stranger I married.
