As soon as I moved toward the counter on the other side of the island, she stiffened even though we were still several feet apart. But she returned to filling a huge pot with water. I enjoyed watching her. Every subtle move she made including how she brushed hair from her face or rubbed her palms on the jeans constantly drew my attention.
She was even more nervous around me, the simple and very normal activity tricking her into thinking what we were doing was anything but what it was.
Still playing the game of cat and mouse.
As I began chopping the vegetables, she did her best to keep from even looking in my direction. It took me a little while to realize she was making bread. From scratch. While I’d been able to tell by her apartment how organized she was, her anger had pushed her out of her comfort zone. Flour was everywhere, including on her face.
At least she was much calmer than before.
I wasn’t. I was furious with her father for evoking so much pain within her.
Her hips swayed to the music and I was pleasantly rewarded with the sound of her voice as she sang along to whatever atrocity she was listening to. She even dared belt out a few lyrics. I remained quiet, more amused than I’d been in a long time.
If she’d believed I wasn’t going to be aroused by her actions, then she was mistaken. Granted, there was a chance she was purposely trying to keep me on the cusp of enticement. What better putty in her hands to attempt an escape.
“What?” she barked.
“Nothing.”
“I don’t know you at all, but I do know you want to say something. You don’t like my singing?”
“I think your voice is beautiful. Like the rest of you. All men aren’t alike, Vivian. I’m not your father.”
“Thank God for that. Keep in mind, we’re not going to be friends.”
“What if I don’t want to be just friends?”
Her face paled from catching her off guard. “That’s honest. I appreciate that. Don’t forget garlic.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She skirted around me as if I had the plague.
Her actions only made me crave her that much more.
And long to be her protector. I had to wonder if this was the way Kazimir had felt about Rafaela, which in turn had caused him to make some irrational decisions.
“What did you mean you don’t want to just be friends?” she dared ask a few seconds later.
“What if I want more?”
“I’m not for sale.”
“And I’m not buying. I take what I want.” Every part of me wanted her. Saying the words out loud provided a sense of truth, but reality would continue presenting obstacles.
She tipped her head in my direction, slowly shaking her head. “You can’t merely take everything you want. Have you caught this ghost? Do you have any idea who he is?”
While I’d like to think her question was out of the blue, I knew better. “Not yet. As far as his identity, I believe he’s Kazimir Chertov’s younger brother Mikhail who had my friend imprisoned, hoping he would suffer the way he believed he’d been made to his entire life.”
Why was it so easy to admit the horror of the life I lived? Interesting.
“His own brother? That’s just… horrible.”
“Yes.” I don’t know why I was admitting the truth other than I had a feeling her interference in my life was all a part of the game. What I needed to learn at all costs was what side she was on. “A young man you’d never suspect given he wanted nothing to do with working within the family’s regime.”
“You didn’t…” She bit her lower lip.
“Kill him? No. I wanted to, but Kazimir banished him. Family means everything to him.”
