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Chapter7
MILA HAD NO EXPERIENCE with this sort of thing, but she’d expected there to be a level of awkwardness afterwards. There was none. She stretched on the sofa, feet connecting with the leather end, so she smiled before realizing that her ankle didn’t hurt. Gingerly, she pressed again, cheeks heating as she became aware of the way he was watching her, seeing every minute shift in her features.
“My ankle. It feels good,” she said after a moment, smiling softly.
He pulled up from her, then away altogether, his powerful body fascinating her, and now, as he stood before her completely naked, Mila allowed herself to stare. To salivate. And yes, to gloat, even if just to herself, because he really was incredibly beautiful.
“Something on your mind?”
“I was just thinking,” she said, then wondered if it was gauche to admit what her mind had been considering, before ploughing on regardless. “How different you are.”
“To you?” He pulled on a pair of boxer briefs, which only seemed to enhance his physical appeal.
“To any man I’ve ever met.”
His only response was a slight narrowing of his eyes, a trait he employed when he was concentrating and analysing. She recognized it easily now.
“And have you known many men?”
“Intimately?” She responded, moving to sit up, unashamed of her nudity despite the fact this was hardly an everyday occurrence for Mila.
He dipped his head slightly, a curt agreement.
“No. I don’t have time for relationships.” She hesitated, but it felt silly to conceal things from him after what they’d just shared. “When I was younger, I did date a guy. My skating partner, in fact. It was a disaster.”
“In what way?”
“Every way.” She tensed, hating the memories of that time in her life. “He was older than me, more mature, more worldly.” She lifted her slender shoulders. “I’d been training and competing for so long, I had no experience whatsoever with men. Every single piece of my focus was—and has been for a long time—on skating. So when we started seeing each other, I was way out of my depth.”
He was silent, watching, imploring her to continue, and strangely, despite the fact she didn’t particularly like to reflect on that chapter of her life, she found the words spilling out of her.
“I guess you could say we were friends first—or colleagues, perhaps. We’d skated together a while. I liked him. I trusted him.” Her voice cracked a little. Emotions she hadn’t realized she still felt bubbled beneath the surface.
“And?” The word was grim, as though he were bracing for the worst.
Was it the worst? No. Definitely not. “He wanted me to sacrifice things. The relationship became conditional upon me training less, competing less. His career was his priority, mine was seen as an optional extra. I didn’t have any family, I only had skating, and I couldn’t bear to sacrifice it.”
“I would have thought he’d understand your drive to succeed?”
She shook her head slowly. “He began to take over all aspects of my life, not just how we trained, what songs we performed, the moves, everything. It was cloying and suffocating, and I wanted to get out for a long time, but it wasn’t that easy.”
“Why not?”
“Because we performed together. We were good together. Our coach, at the time, had put a lot into us as a figure skating pair. I tried to end it amicably, so that we could continue working together, but he wasn’t okay with that. In fact, he was furious.”
Leonidas was watching her with renewed interest.
“I know what you’re thinking, but he’s not my stalker.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“The police discounted him early on. He was in Australia when my stuff started being taken. Besides, he’s moved on.”
She couldn’t tell if Leonidas believed her or not, but he nodded slowly. “And you?”
“I wish we’d never become involved.”
“Because he hurt you?”
