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Judging by his professional tone, he’s discussing business. Spoken in his deep voice and with his commanding attitude, the foreign words sound sexy, even when they’re work-related. Alex Volkov not only exudes power; he drips with sex appeal. It’s not often that I have the chance to observe him unnoticed. I’m the one who’s usually pinned under his dissecting stare. Making the most of the opportunity, I burn the incredible way he looks, sounds, and smells into my memory, so I can enjoy the stolen moment again later.

My steps are quiet on the carpet. I stop at a distance to give him privacy to finish his call. As if sensing my presence, he turns. A steely gaze collides with mine. The blue of his eyes warms several degrees as he takes me in from top to bottom. His visual evaluation contracts my skin as if he were running his fingertips over my body. The heated appreciation he shows for everyone present to see sends sparks to my belly. He finishes his conversation with a few short commands, sounding as in charge as ever while simultaneously devouring me with his stare.

Only Alex can direct his attention to two places at once and control both with precision and power.

Ending the call, he pockets his phone. “Ready?”

Sexual tension runs thick in the air. Our awareness of each other is visceral. It always has been, right from the start. Alex is an incurable disease. No matter what happens, I’ll never get him out of my system. He’s gotten too deeply under my skin.

Not trusting my voice, I nod.

Lena takes my coat from the closet and hands it to Alex. He helps me put it on before taking his own.

When we’ve finished pulling on our scarves and gloves, he offers me his arm. “Let’s go.”

The guard at the door opens it to let us out. Five cars are on the driveway. Men in dark coats wait next to the cars. They’re dressed casually, presumably to blend in on the streets, but when the man in the front bends to get into the car, his coat falls open, revealing a gun in a body holster.

Alex and I get into the car in the middle. Yuri is in the driver’s seat. He gives me a nod in the rearview mirror as he starts the engine. Alex says something to him in Russian, at which he pulls off.

Two cars lead the convoy, and two tail us. Alex takes my gloved hand in his and keeps it on his lap, caressing my knuckles with his thumb, but his attention is aimed outside. Tension fills the car as he keeps a vigilant eye on the surroundings. My muscles tighten. He wasn’t this preoccupied on the drive from the airport to the house.

“Is something the matter?” I ask.

Turning his face to look at me, he makes a visible effort to relax his features. “Everything is fine.”

I search his eyes. “Really?”

“I’m just being careful. How does your saying go? Better safe than sorry.”

Why do I get the feeling there’s something he’s not telling me? “If the risk is too big, we can stay at home. I don’t mind.”

His expression softens. “We’re fine. It’s a beautiful day to be out. You deserve it.”

Do I? Then why do I suddenly feel so guilty? I don’t want to be the reason Alex risks our lives. I don’t want him to get killed just because I couldn’t handle a little claustrophobia.

“Alex?” I close my fingers around his hand. “Let’s turn back. There’s so much to do at home. There’s a gym and a pool and a sauna. I haven’t even explored the home theater yet. And Tima’s cooking is better than any restaurant’s, right?”

“Hey.” He brushes his knuckles over my cheek. “Don’t worry, kiska. I’d never take an uncalculated risk, not with your life.”

“I don’t need to go out and see the sights. I’m happy to—”

“Shh.” Leaning over, he kisses my lips. “I want to do this. Now just relax and enjoy the day. That will make me very happy.”

Not wanting to throw the enormous sacrifice back into his face, I shut my mouth and try to show him the gratitude he deserves.

“Excuse me,” he says, taking his phone from his pocket. “I have to make a couple of calls.”

For the rest of the drive, Alex is occupied on his phone. From the firm tone of his voice, it sounds as if he’s giving instructions. He could be talking to someone at his office, but my guess is the calls have something to do with securing our safety.

When we park in the old city, the men accompanying us get out first. Half of them clear a path while the other half surround us as Alex helps me out of the car.

Despite the army of men and the disconcerting meaning of their presence, I pause on the sidewalk to take in the scene.

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