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Chapter Ten
Pavel
My limo drifts past tall buildings that scrape the sky. The massive structures rise around me, their impeccable creation striking awe in me even if I am mildly preoccupied.
I lean toward the intercom. “No, Stepan Petrovich. I don’t love her.”
“Why not?”
“WhywouldI?”
The tinted window above the intercom slides down with a mechanical whirl. “You think too much, Pavel Sergeyevich.”
“I think just the right amount, thank you very much.”
The limo slows into afternoon traffic. We then halt at an intersection, cars crammed so tightly together that they might as well be sardines.
Disgusting, slimy,flailingsardines.
“Blyad,” Stepan gestures ahead. “I leave unspeakable horrors behind in Chechnya to sit behind a Porsche that doesn’t know how to parallel park.”
I smirk. “But the state wassothankful for your service.”
He puffs with amusement. “What service? Both my comradesandmy enemies shocked me with their brutality. Everything here is so much…” He trails off while glancing into the rear-view mirror. His dark eyes wordlessly paint a picture of the war while his lips say, “Different.”
“You work for me now. Of course it’s different.”
“This girl—she’s different, too.”
You have no fucking idea. Unmanageable feelings crack through my facade. In front of anyone else, I would have tried turning away. But I can trust Stepan.
He would kill for me. And he has.
“She’s small and stubborn,” I say while thinking about her resistance to me. “But I can’t bring myself to love her.”
“But it sounds like you want to.”
I snort. “I’d sooner toss myself into a gulag in Siberia.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“You don’tknowthat. You can’t read my mind.”
He shrugs while resting his hands at ten and two on the wheel. Always a careful driver. Forever a deadly assassin. The man is a skilled enigma who I’m glad to have near me at all times.
“No, I can’t read your mind,” he teases. “But I can tell you’re conflicted.”
“And what else can you tell me, Stepan Petrovich?”
Wise eyes roam in my direction via the mirror. They retreat back to the road, squint, scan, and then return, dark as obsidian stones.
No, not like stones. Likeglass. Sharp. Intelligent. Running through multiple programs he’s picked up over the years. I can see the gears turning in there.
“You seemed to have no issue while fucking her in front of her brother,” he points out. “The way you claimed her only comes from a place of protection.”
“That isn’t love.” I scowl. “That wasn’t love.”
His eyes brighten with curiosity. “No?”
