Page 55
I stare at the wood in front of me. Seriously?
He had the bloody thing fixed just to break it again?
“Or…” I call back. “I could just open—” The rest of my sentence disappears beneath an earsplitting crack.
The entire door tears off its hinges and slams onto the floor at my feet, the impact rattling the walls.
I slowly lift my gaze. My eyes burning with rage. Pure, unfiltered rage.
Sergei crosses the distance between us in two large strides and wraps his hand around my throat.
What. The. Hell?
The brown in his irises is completely consumed by black, leaving behind two venomous eyes fixed on me. He is fuming. There’s a frightening kind of darkness behind his gaze, his hair ruffled, his appearance dishevelled yet still impeccably handsome.
To think one could look ruthless even in a plain, white dress shirt. His brown hair falling on his forehead and the urge to run my fingers through them scratches my palm.
Earth to Elara. He has your throat in his hand. Maybe worry about that first? My brain reminds me.
“Malyshka?” He lifts a brow, his gaze dropping to the suitcase behind me before returning to my face.
The moment my fingers tighten around the handle, so does his grip on my neck and I almost let out a moan.
Bloody hell, why do I find that so hot?
“Did my unannounced visit ruin your little escape plan, solnyshko?” He brings his mouth closer, almost a breath away. “Do you want to drive me crazy, woman?”
His proximity does nothing to my brain and everything to my throbbing pussy.
“Tell me, or help me God, I’m going to pound into you so hard you won’t be able to fucking run to save your life.”
Fuck.
One hand on my neck, the other on my arse and he hauls me with up little to no ease.
“Do I look like a saint?” He growls. “Do I look like I could give you up easily?” His hands come around my waist, squeezing my neck at the same time.
I find myself gasping for air as he constricts my air-flow. My fists landing on his chest but it’s futile. He doesn’t even move, if anything, his grip only tightens.
“S-Sergei…” I choke out.
“Do I look like I can breathe without you near me?” He whispers. My eyes widen, a glossy sheen blurring my vision. His grip loosens as a drop of tear trickles down, landing on his hand. He stares at it for a long moment before another falls, the muscle in his jaw ticking.
“Why are you crying?” he growls, his brows pulling together. “You’re the one who wanted to leave me.”
“Because you broke my door.” I lie.
His mouth parts, genuine shock flashing across his face.
“I’m going to drain your bank account.” I sniff, wiping at my cheeks. “I don’t need fifty thousand pounds anymore.”
His brows knit together.
“I want a hundred.”
“You’re wasting these precious tears over a broken door?” he asks, sounding genuinely bewildered. Does he actually believe me?
“Why do you keep breaking it?”
