Page 43 of Anton

“That’s not how addiction works, Mr. Marinov.”

I draw back with a smirk. “Then I guess we’re both fucked.”

“I’m okay with that.” She threads her fingers through my hair until my eyes fall shut.

Damn, I could get used to this.

But you can’t.

We stay that way for a while, and it physically hurts when she presses her palms to my chest, forcing me to move.

“As much as I’m enjoying this, it’s getting late, and I hate driving in the dark, so I should go.”

Why does she hate driving in the dark? Did something happen? Or is she just afraid?

“I’ll take you home.”

“What? No. I’ll be fine.”

“I wasn’t asking. We’ll take your car, and one of my men will drive me back.”

“Anton…”

But when I give her a look that makes it clear we’re done talking about it, she shakes her head and smiles.

“You know, for a man who says he’s terrible, you sure as hell have a funny way of showing it.”

“Come on, annoying. You talk too much.”

I stride toward the foyer, and she laughs under her breath as she grabs her handbag and hurries after me. The sound of her laughter follows me all the way outside, sticking in my head, and I’m not sure I want it gone.

When we reach her car, I open the passenger door and brace one hand against the top of the frame, but instead of getting in, she stops beside me. Her irises lift to mine, and my chest draws tight. Not because she’s looking at me. Women look at me all the time. It’s the way she does it, like there’s something inside me worth finding.

I don’t like it. Or maybe I do, and that’s where the problem is. Another few weeks of this, and I’ll be listening to love songs while staring out windows like some lovesick teenager.

The thought makes me cringe.

“Get in before I change my mind and leave you here.” I gesture toward the seat.

Her mouth twitches. “You say the sweetest things after sex.”

“I’m a very romantic man.”

“It shows.”

“At least I know I’m doing something right.”

Amusement brightens her face before her expression turns serious. “No one can know about this, okay?”

“Know what?” I move aside so she can climb in.

Relief passes over her features as she slides into the seat. I shut the door and walk around to the driver’s side, my men pulling in behind us by the time I start the engine.

I keep my focus on the road as I drive. I have plenty to lose too. Konstantin won’t be pleased when he finds out I’m sleeping with the target, but I’ve done worse. Significantly worse. Like the time I blew up a car full of a client’s men because they looked at me funny.

Here’s hoping my brother remains in a forgiving mood.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN