I roll my eyes while climbing onto one of the stools. Alexei slides a plate in front of me loaded with pancakes, eggs, and bacon.
“Where’d you learn to cook?” I ask, genuinely surprised.
He pours coffee into my mug before answering. “My grandmother refused to let Roman and me grow up useless.”
Something softer quickly moves through his expression before it disappears again.
I take a bite of the pancake and narrow my eyes immediately. “This is annoyingly good.”
He smiles smugly. “I excel at most things.”
“Humility included apparently.”
He sits next to me with his coffee, stretching one arm across the back of my chair while we eat together in comfortable silence. This feels even more intimate than last night.
His phone buzzing against the counter shatters the moment. The change in him is immediate. His expression sharpens while he glances down at the screen, typing out a quick response before setting the phone aside again.
“You have to go,” I say, my voice low.
“I need to get to the office.”
Something inside me sinks even though I expected it. Men like Alexei don’t stay still for long. His world keeps moving whether either of us wants it to or not.
He stands and carries our plates to the sink before walking back toward me. His fingers brush along my jaw before sliding into my hair at the nape of my neck, holding me still while his eyes pin me in place.
“I’ll have security outside the shelter today.”
I groan immediately. “Alexei.”
“You are not arguing me out of this.”
I stare at him while he calmly fastens his watch, as if that statement is perfectly reasonable.
“Do you hear yourself?”
“Yes.”
“And you still continue talking.”
“Yes.”
A reluctant laugh slips out of me before I shake my head. He’s hopeless. Completely hopeless. But beneath the exasperation, my chest warms anyway because I know where all this protectiveness comes from.
A few minutes later, he pulls me against him near the front door, kissing me slowly and deeply until my lungs burn and my fingers tighten in the front of his shirt.
“Lock the door after I leave,” he murmurs against my mouth.
“There he is again,” I whisper. “Bossy.”
“Always.”
Then he’s gone.
The apartment is quiet after the door closes behind him. I lean against it touching my swollen lips while my heart still beats too hard from the kiss he left me with. Everything feels different this morning. Softer somehow, but more dangerous too.
I try not to think too hard about that while I get dressed for the shelter, but the thoughts follow me anyway. They roll throughmy mind on a loop while I pull my hair into a messy ponytail, tug on my sneakers, and rinse out my coffee mug.
Twenty minutes later, I head downstairs with my travel mug in one hand and my shelter bag slung over my shoulder. The lobby is mostly empty this early in the morning. Mrs. Patterson from 2B stands near the elevator watering the sad little plant she insists is still alive despite every bit of evidence proving otherwise, while a television echoes faintly from the manager’s office down the hall.
