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There’s a distant voice coming from the phone, and Rayne presses it back to her ear. “I found her, Lana, It’s fine. Bye.”
Lana is still talking when Rayne hangs up the phone. All of her attention is on Yuliana. “What happened?”
“You were asleep. I didn’t want to wake you,” I explain gruffly.
Rayne blinks up at me like she’s seeing me for the first time. For a woman who just threatened violence against me on the phone, I don’t see any malice in her now. Her cheeks flush, and she looks away, quickly busying herself with unnecessarily straightening Yuliana’s shirt.
“Mamaaa,” Yuli complains, edging away from her until Rayne finally relinquishes her grip. When she’s free, she skips to the windows and presses her face to the glass. Steam fogs a circle around her face.
Rayne drops her hands and stands up, refusing to meet my eyes. “So you’re engaged now? Or again, I should say?”
“So I hear.”
“Who is the lucky lady?” Jealousy is etched in the tension of her shoulders.
As I pass her to join Yuliana at the windows, I lean down and whisper in her ear. “The woman who tried to hit on me would say it’s you, considering you’re the reason I didn’t even give her a second glance. How lucky you are depends on what your plans are later tonight.”
43
RAYNE
I hear Kirill’s voice in my ear as I stand outside his bedroom door later that night.
How lucky you are depends on what your plans are later tonight.
Yuliana has been asleep for hours, and I told Kirill I’d take the couch. He tried to refuse, but I told him I wanted Yuliana to see me if she came out of her room in the middle of the night.
Really, it was the thought of lying next to him in the same bed that made me want to keep my distance. Feeling his warmth against the sheets. Hearing his breathing and knowing he’s within my reach, but not being able to do anything about it without ripping my own heart out in the process.
So yeah, I figured the couch would be better. Safer, if nothing else.
But after two hours of tossing and turning, I couldn’t seem to turn my brain off.
Who is my real father? Is he someone my mom knew in real life? Maybe I knew him. Maybe I passed him in the grocery store every week. Maybe he worked at my school.
After nearly driving myself crazy, I’m now standing frozen in front of Kirill’s door… doing more of the same.
To knock or not to knock, that is the question.
Finally, before I can second-guess myself, I lift my hand and seal my fate.Knock-knock-knock.
I listen, but there is no response. No movement, either. The television hasn’t been on all night and I haven’t heard him on the phone. He’s probably asleep. I should just go back to the couch and try to—
The door opens, and there Kirill is. In front of me. Shirtless.
Suddenly, every thought I’ve been fighting to get out of my head drops away like it’s nothing. There is only him and his bare chest and the V-cut indentations of his abs disappearing beneath the elastic band of his sweatpants.
He’s gorgeous. The endless expanse of his tan, muscled skin makes my fingers itch. I want to trace and map the contours of him, first with my hands, then with my tongue.
“Can I help you?” he asks, his low voice a seductive curl.
I drag my eyes reluctantly to his face and flush in embarrassment. I’m not doing a great job of hiding my thoughts.
“I’m not here for sex,” I blurt. My face burns even hotter.
Kirill chuckles. “Noted.”
“What I meant is, can I come in? I want to talk to you.”
