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“You’re a good guy, Ilya. Maybe a little too loyal.”
He chuckles and gives me a salute before turning away from the front door. He jogs over to his Kia Sedona.
“Jesus, treat the guy like your bitch, and only pay him enough to buy a Kia?” I shake my head and ask Nikita the question as I close the door behind me. Nikita lets out a deep sigh in response, too busy chewing on his bone to bother with me.
The pile of dresses must weigh twenty pounds. What the hell are they even made of?
I’m sure Dima picked out the most expensive and ostentatious ones he could find. I wonder if he bought himself a matching suit. He’s always been a big fan of peacocking.
I stare at the dresses through the clear plastic, running my finger over the slick surface.
Pretty soon, she’ll be gone.
Out of my life.
She’ll walk out of here in one of these gowns looking every bit the queen she’ll soon be.
I’ll see her at Valentina’s wedding, forced to watch my brother lead her around like a prized cow. He’ll make a big show of dancing with her, but I’ll already know, long before he will, how her body feels pressed tight against me.
I’ll remember every salacious second we spent together. I’ll crave those lost moments as I track their movements across the dance floor. And I’ll be happy to have tasted the forbidden fruit before Dima ever got the chance. Then I’ll leave this place forever, never to look back.
My chest tightens. I’m on the path and I can’t take my focus off the prize.
Freedom.
I walk toward the safe room like I’m headed down death row for the last time. The door is open a crack, so I lean into it with my shoulder because my hands are otherwise occupied with the pile of dresses.
Natasha sits on the edge of the bed, strumming the air with her eyes closed. I watch her fingers move expertly over what can only be imaginary strings, the ball of her left foot tapping against the floor following some beat in her head.
“Get out,” she murmurs without opening her eyes. “You’re interrupting me.”
“And what exactly are you doing?”
“Meditating, dickhead. Isn’t it obvious?”
“You meditate by playing air guitar?” I snicker at my joke, despite the fact that I’m trying to be the asshole she already believes me to be.
Her eyes float open. “People find their calm in lots of different ways. For me, it’s through music. And since you stole me away from my one source of inner peace, I had to get creative.”
“Well, I hate to interrupt your meditation, but these were just delivered for you.” I dump the dress bags behind her on the bed and turn to leave because if I stay for another second, I’m afraid I may let the beast inside of me escape and fuck her senseless on top of the plastic dress bags.
Something tells me she’d like that very much, too.
Hate sex is definitely the best sex.
My phone pings, and I pull it out of my pocket. A notification that someone is at the front door appears on the screen. Just as I’m about to leave the safe room, she calls out to me.
“Hey, can you take a message back to your asshole brother, please?”
A small smile tugs at my lips, and I bite it back before turning to look at her.
She flashes a toothy grin. “Tell him that I have zero use for these dresses and he should come get them and shove them up his ass. You got that?”
“I’m always a fan of telling my brother to jam something up his ass, so yeah. Message received.”
Lucky bastard.
Dima has no idea what he’s getting in Natasha. He won’t appreciate her — her intelligence, her passion, or her drive. He won’t worship her body or make her feel that she is more beautiful than any other woman in the world.
