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Tomorrow.
What the fuck am I going to do?
My head begins to ache. Hoping that the freezing evening air will stave off a full-blown migraine attack, I pull on my warmest boots, hat, gloves, and coat, and send a text to the bodyguards waiting downstairs that I want to walk to Natasha’s and thus don’t need a car.
I’m already halfway to the elevator when Papa’s hulking frame appears in the doorway. “Going out?”
His words are slurred, his face bloated and unshaven. His black hair, now liberally sprinkled with gray, is a disheveled mess, as are his clothes, with his white shirt stained and buttoned askew, the tails half-tucked into his partially unzipped slacks. No tie, no shoes of any kind, only one sock on his left foot.
I’ve never seen my powerful, handsome father look like this, not even when he was drunk out of his mind in the past.
“You okay, Papa?” I ask softly, an unfamiliar pity stirring inside me.
The man in front of me has never been the kind of dad they show in movies, the one who hugs you, has important talks with you, and generally acts like you’re more than an object to trade away. Still, he’s my father and he’s hurting. However broken and toxic his relationship with Mama has become, at one point he loved her, I’m sure. Maybe he still does, in his own twisted way.
He snorts and stabs his fingers through his hair, the gesture uncharacteristically erratic. “Why the fuck wouldn’t I be?” He lurches toward me, his movements reminding me of an overcaffeinated zombie. “So you’re going or what?”
I take a wary half-step back and lift my hand to hide the pendant hanging around my neck. “Yes, to Natasha’s. I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Is that okay?”
He jerks his chin toward the door. “Yeah. Get the fuck out of here.”
Rude, but okay. I don’t need to be asked twice. I hurry into the elevator, and when I come out into the lobby downstairs, four bodyguards join me. Once we emerge onto the street, they fall back to follow me discreetly, and I’m left alone with my thoughts—thoughts that immediately turn to Alexei.
Delayed in Hong Kong, Mama said. Did he go there for business or pleasure? I spent a few days there last summer, visiting a friend from school, so I can picture the glamorous nightclubs and lounges, along with all the gorgeous women. Women that I can all too easily imagine in Alexei’s bed, their lithe bodies writhing against him, their full lips wrapped around his—
Fuck. Stop. I don’t care. He can fuck all the Hong Kong beauties he wants—whatever keeps him away from me. There’s no reason for me to feel like throwing up at the thought of him touching some other woman. I should be glad if his attention is elsewhere. I should hope it’s elsewhere.
Maybe, just maybe, at this very moment, he’s with a woman who’ll make him forget all about our stupid betrothal, and then I’ll be free for good.
The thought should cheer me up, but I feel even worse, my headache intensifying by the minute. Even the crisp winter air doesn’t help. It’s cold out tonight, at least minus twenty degrees Celsius, and ice crystals crunch under my boots as a frigid gust of wind hits me in the face, making me shiver and wish I’d taken the car after all. Or maybe even stayed home, toxic atmosphere and all. I could’ve ignored my parents, taken my headache pills, crawled into bed, and caught up on some much-needed sleep.
Well, too late now. I keep walking, trying not to think about seeing Alexei first thing tomorrow, and as I’m rounding a corner, a black car pulls up to the curb next to me.
Startled, I jump back, my instincts screaming of danger, but my bodyguards are already there, forming a semi-circle between me and the car. Their hands go to their weapons as the darkened window in the back rolls down, revealing a familiar pair of dark eyes set in a hard-featured face.
Eyes that gleam with cruel amusement.
“Easy, boys,” Alexei drawls as I stare at him, frozen in shock. “I mean my intended no harm.”
Pushing open the door, he steps out, unfolding his tall frame in a smooth, easy motion as I gape at him, unable to utter a word.
How is it possible that he’s here, standing in front of me, when he’s supposed to be in Hong Kong?
My stunned gaze travels over his face, with its hard angles and sharp planes, then over his body, the powerful muscles of which are visible even in the gray leather jacket he’s wearing over a black sweater. Dark jeans hug his long, athletic legs, and black biker boots cover his feet, making him look even more dangerous.
“Miss me, Alinyonok?” he asks, coming toward me, and my bodyguards fall back, melting out of sight once more. They must’ve been notified about our relationship, such as it is.
I almost call them back, but I don’t want Alexei to know just how much he scares me. Instead, I stiffen my spine and paste on a cool smile. “What are you doing here? I thought your flight was delayed.”
“The storm petered out, and my pilot decided to risk it,” he says, stopping in front of me. The streetlights reflect in his eyes, making them look like black mirrors above me. His lips curve mockingly. “I knew you were anxious to see me.”
I fight the urge to flinch as he lifts a hand to tuck a strand of hair into my hat. Unlike me, he’s not wearing any gloves, yet his fingers are warm despite the freezing cold outside. So warm that they burn my chilled skin and make me feel like I’m wearing too many layers of clothing… like I need to be naked in this frigid weather to cool the fire raging inside me, and even then, I might burn up alive.
“Anxious, yes. To see you, no,” I force myself to say as he pulls back his hand. My heart is racing, but I can’t let him know that. I need to project a cool, calm demeanor, so he doesn’t realize how much he’s unsettled me. How unprepared I am to face him and everything my future holds.
The taunting smile remains on his lips. “You wound me, my beauty. Here I am, risking my life by flying in a snowstorm to see you, and you couldn’t even wait for me at home.”
I clench my jaw. “I have plans with Natasha tonight.” Which he, stalker that he is, probably knows about.
