He wasn’t mugged. He didn’t call the police. Someone tried to kill him, and I’d bet that same someone is dead or wishing they were dead right now.
But I’m happy to play ignorant. Not only to appease Lev. It’s best for both of us that he thinks I have no sense of what his world is like. I’m not sure I even do.
The only audible sound in the bathroom is the crinkle of plastic as I open the bandage. Either the surrounding rooms are unoccupied or this hotel has excellent insulation because we might as well be the only people in this building.
I apply the bandage carefully, then wipe the dried blood away with a dampened towel. His chest looks a lot better with the cut covered, but his face is still pale.
“What did the doctor say?” I ask, grabbing one of the pill bottles and squinting at the label.Cephalexin. I have no idea what that is.
“I am fine.”
I scoff. Glance up. “You’re not?—”
Lev kisses me, and it’s the second time tonight I’ve been taken totally off guard. It’s nearly as shocking as him aiming a gun at me was.
This is our first kiss. Last Labor Day, in Lake Forest, we had sex, but our lips never touched. His mouth explored all over my body, but it stayed away from mine. I noticed, yet I was too overwhelmed by everything else taking place to really care.
I care now. I didn’t know what I was missing out on then.
He angles my chin left, hot tongue swiping the length of my lip. A moan slips out as his tongue invades my mouth.
I feel lightheaded. Dizzy. Unsteady. I have a hard time breathing around him, which sounds ridiculous, even in my own head. That’s supposed to be a basic instinct, only affected by suffocation.
Lev’s grip on my chin loosens, his hand skating down the center of my chest. I changed into a suede skirt after dinner, pairing it with a sweater and carefully applying lipstick. I wanted to look more adult. When his hand slips under the skirt’s hem,lingering on my upper thigh, I’m grateful I picked this outfit. I feel like I might collapse, feeling the rasp of the rough calluses on his fingers and palm rubbing against my skin.
“I could make you come, Carina.” His husky voice, the slight scrape of his accent? It’s mesmerizing.
So hypnotic that it takes me a few seconds to realize he heard me doubting his abilities earlier. Heat scorches my cheeks as he holds my gaze, a crooked smirk appearing. It’s the most animated expression I’ve ever seen him wear.
“Then do it,” I challenge.
Sex after a serious injury must be healthier than drinking vodka.
At least, that’s what I try to convince myself of as I reach for his waistband, knowing my motivations are purely selfish.
BITTERSWEET SYMPHONY
“We could?—”
“Nyet.”
Audrey huffs. “I don’t speak Russian.”
I pull a pack of cigarettes out of my pocket, extracting one and sticking it in my mouth. “Want one?” I ask around it.
Audrey’s nose wrinkles, answering before her, “No.” She tacks on a, “Thanks,” as my lighter flicks to life, apparently recalling who the fuck I am.
The entire reason we’re trapped in this car together—the entire reason for this godforsaken evening—is because her father is hoping I’ll fuck her. Or, at the very least, I’ll like her enough to elevate my opinion of him.
Audrey sighs, inspecting her nails. “That wassoboring.”
I exhale a stream of smoke, bothering to crack a window because Audrey’s nose is wrinkling again. She’s assumed—incorrectly—that my apathy has to do with the performance we just attended.
“I thought it was excellent,” I say coldly.
“The theater was pretty, I guess.” She glances out the window after speaking, giving up on conversation.
The ensuing silence doesn’t improve my dark mood. This trip was a total success—O’Brien has been dealt with, and our position in Chicago has never been stronger. Audrey’s father, Samuel Belvedere, is thrilled with and fairly competent in his position as head of the foundation that funnels some of our illegal cash here. He insisted on having dinner after our meeting, and I should have made up an excuse to leave as soon as he “remembered” he’d already made plans with his daughter.
