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CHAPTER15
Candy
Something drastic had happened. The man sitting next to me had resumed his solitary role as protector, wearing his rage in a brazen fashion in order to warn all those around him to back away.
Only I’d become a player in his world. However accidental the happening, I’d become fully entrenched in the madness of his life. He hadn’t spoken a single word since leaving the restaurant. While his actions had remained decent, even gentle, I sensed the discord from whatever had happened while I was in the restroom. His constant reminders that I should hate him were grating, but in his world, I believed they were necessary. He couldn’t get close. That wasn’t allowed.
It could mean his death.
I stared out the window as I’d done before, more pensive than ever. As the driver rounded the corner, the bright lights of the theater coming into view, another wave of sadness swept through me. How life could change on a dime.
“The theater is important to you,” he stated, the tone of his voice darker, more foreboding than before.
It was also embroiled in a haunted tone, his deep pitch rumbling through me.
“It was. Now, I’m not so certain.” I was shocked when the driver pulled to a stop directly in front of the entrance. “What are we doing here? Are you rubbing the fact I can’t have this in my face?”
Kirill resumed his silence, exiting the vehicle in a dramatic fashion, buttoning his jacket before closing the door. Why would he do this to me?
The feeling of being a princess faded as he walked me into the theater, passing by the ticket office and moving directly inside. Two of his men trailed behind, remaining close yet providing enough room I didn’t feel smothered. Yet their presence was undeniable. The danger was real. When Kirill led me to the orchestra section, I couldn’t deny I was impressed. The tickets had been sold out for weeks. The fact he’d been able to obtain two of them meant he’d spent a premium price, which of course didn’t bother him. He could obviously afford anything he wanted.
As soon as we sat down, the heat of his body became overwhelming. I had the feeling we were being watched, creepy crawlies tickling both my arms and legs. If that was the case, he didn’t allow it to bother him in the least. While his arm touched mine, he didn’t attempt to make contact in any other way, but his stoic body language was further acknowledgment that someone or something had pissed him off.
“I’m not certain why you did this, but thank you,” I finally said, my upbringing requiring me to provide some sense of gratitude.
“I did this to make you happy.”
“You did.” If only for two incredible hours. “This is a magical place.”
“Why?”
I turned my head, thinking about my answer. “I think because my mother loved George Gershwin. She always had big band or Broadway music on, her voice melodic. She encouraged me to become a singer, even when my father called my aspirations hogwash. I’d promised her that one day she’d see me on Broadway.”
He didn’t respond in any way, but I sensed he’d heard me.
As if that would matter.
The lights began to dim and the rush of excitement I’d always imagined came to life. I sat on the edge of my seat, allowing myself to slide into a perfect moment of fantasy. As the curtain rose, I could feel his eyes concentrated on my reaction. At that moment, I didn’t care. Nothing would spoil the special occasion.
Yet it ended all too quickly, the lights in the theater lifting even before the curtains began to fall. I remained emotional, the dazzling musical fluid and dramatic, yet poignant. I wiped away tears as everyone else stood, preparing to leave. I found myself holding my arms, still trying to absorb the beautiful rendition.
“Did you enjoy it at all?” I asked in a breathless whisper, uncertain he’d even hear me.
“What I enjoy isn’t important, moya krasavitsa.”
“Yes, it is.” I couldn’t look at him, which was silly of me. He’d displayed no emotions that I’d been able to detect, but his constant stare had left me fully aroused, my heart skipping beats. If only I could truly hate him. That would make the experience of being with him much easier. “You deserve happiness. Everyone does.”
“Not a man like me.” He guided me to my feet, his grip on my arm firm. He remained protective, a force to be reckoned with as he led me out of the theater and onto the street.
I hated his silence, his brooding behavior. I loathed that he couldn’t talk to me. And I wanted him. The entire situation wasn’t just uncomfortable. It was also tearing at my heart. I’d never believed in ‘instalove,’ a saying I’d heard regarding all those gorgeous females who found the love of their life on the first few pages of a romance novel, but here I was, falling hard and fast. I knew it was wrong. I understood that it had no decent outcome. I was no fool. He wasn’t capable of feeling the same way, but the tingling warmth that constantly spread from my tummy to my pussy and nipples was in total disagreement.
Maybe I still did feel like a princess after all, but the clock was ticking down to midnight. The gorgeous clothes would be gone, the reality of my cage returning. I’d never be his Cinderella.
Even after the driver started the engine, I continued to stare out the window at the bright lights, longing to fool myself for a little while longer. And still he was watching me.
“Would you like some champagne?” he asked, as if that was going to appease me.
“What I’d really like are answers, Kirill. Did you find out the Walsh family is behind whatever terrible things happened to the people you protect? Are you planning on killing them, or me? Why can’t you tell me anything personal? Is that some unknown requirement that no one can get close to you? You want me to hate you, but that’s impossible. And I can’t love you because I don’t know you.”
