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New York is a city filled with strangers who purposely don’t make eye contact. But all that means is that Matilda doesn’t notice how many men look at her. How many windpipes I’ve wanted to rip out tonight.
I glance toward her as we step into the hotel lobby. She catches me looking.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
She rolls her eyes. I almost smile, almost drag her toward me.
This woman is going to ruin me.
The clerk hands me the key cards, and Matilda looks at them like I’ve just purchased the entire building.
“We could stay somewhere cheaper.”
“No.”
“Or I could stay at my apartment.”
I start toward the elevators.
“Think about the first time we met, Matilda. Do I strike you as the kind of man who doesn’t know how to treat a woman?” We step into the elevator, and I let my eyes drag slowly down her body. Making a point.
When her tongue darts out to wet her lips, I know I have her mind right where I want it.
She sighs, already gearing up for another argument, so I interrupt: “If someone were tracking us, they’d check your apartment first. It was easy to get into a few weeks ago. Wouldn’t be any different now.”
I catch the offended look in her eyes in the mirrored wall of the elevator as the doors slide shut. She rolls her eyes again, and heat flares low in my groin.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Roll your eyes at me.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
She gives me an innocent look that fools absolutely no one.
The truth is considerably simpler than the explanation I gave her. She could stay at her apartment; if she begged me, I’d let her. I’d sleep outside the door like a dog and guard her through the night.
But I want her close.
I need her close.
And that realization scares me more than Yuri ever has.
I’ve spent my entire life making sure I never needed anyone badly enough for them to become a weakness. Now Matilda is standing beside me, arguing about high-end hotels, and somehow she’s become exactly that.
“You’re ridiculous,” she mutters.
I stare down her reflection.
“So you’ve said before.”
“And controlling.”
