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“For adding one more sin to all your others. I—”
A chuckle comes out of him, he squeezes my hand then brings the back of it to his lips the way he had earlier. “Thank you for worrying about my eternal soul. However, believe me when I say it was dark long before today by choice. My only regret was not being the one to torture him to within hours of his life. I told Peter I wanted him to pay for days, I meant more than a day and a half.”
I am my father’s daughter, because I cannot dredge up a single ounce of remorse for hearing what they put Keith through before Milos killed him. And nothing at all but satisfaction to hear he’s dead. Carlo had said once the mafia took out the trash of the world—for the most part if you were an innocent, you never knew where they were or saw their face at the same time they held a weapon.
“Still, I have to say I’m sorry. I’ll leave it up to you what you do with it.”
He chuckles. “I will take your sorry if you tell me what you want for dinner. You managed to sleep through lunch.”
His chuckle skims up my tummy, filling me with heat. I shrug. “I can’t think of anything.”
“My chef is excellent. He does several dishes well. His demand of a pizza oven is Aleksander’s favorite. He also does any pasta dish you can think of, as well as chicken parmigiana.”
“Oh, I love chicken parmigiana, it’s one of my favorites. While I like pizza, it doesn’t sound good right now.” I’m not even a hundred percent certain I want the chicken parmigiana, but it’s been months since I had it.
Nodding, he pulls his phone out. “What would you like as a vegetable side, green beans, Brussel sprouts, broccoli, or carrots?”
I frown, none of them. I’m not a huge vegetable eater. A dark eyebrow goes up, telling me my only option is to choose one. “Carrots, please.”
Once again, I’m in awe at the rapid French that comes from Milos as he speaks on the phone. “How many languages do you speak?”
“Six,” he says with a shrug, as if it were no big deal.
“Six? I’m ridiculously proud of myself for three—Italian, Spanish, and English. What are they?”
“You know most of them now. Russian, Italian, Spanish, French, Chechen, Turkish. The ones that will help me most in business. I hear you’re learning Russian. When I spoke with your roommate, I mentioned my surprise you murmured Russian in your sleep.” His smile is knowing.
I blush and force a shrug. “I already know the most common languages spoken in Chicago. It was a business decision. German was during a required class, so it was Russian or Chinese, and Chinese seemed way too hard.” I realize I’m babbling. “I have to pee.”
A small smile then he’s turning away, grabbing something at the bottom of the bed. As he hands it to me I realize it’s a pretty silk white robe. “Put it on, I had no idea the nightgown was so…” His eyes run over me with heat that scorches me. Then he’s turning away.
The heat turns me into fumbling mess, it takes a few tries before I get both hands inside the sleeves. I scoot to the edge of the bed. The sheet and comforter are pulled from my hand by Milos. I’m up in his arms. I open my mouth to protest but I don’t want to—all I want to do is cling tighter to him.
My heart is pounding so hard against my rib cage it aches, and my stomach is tumbling at a thousand turns a second. Too soon he’s sliding me down his hard, long body and oh god, everything, absolutely everything in me melts in the fire raging inside me.
His large hands are on my waist, holding me up. “Are you good to stand?” is whispered over my hair. I shake my head. A hiss comes out of him as I can’t believe his body goes even harder against me. “Kotyonok, you are still weak. Too weak for what you’re inviting.”
Face flaming, I force my legs to take my weight. Letting go of Milos, I can’t bear to look up as I step back and hate the way I sway. His hands tighten around my waist. Shaking my head, I step back and push against the wall of his chest. He’s immovable.
“I can stand.” I force the words out between my teeth.
He sighs as he lets me go. “Call me if you need me.”
I nod, keeping my head down. I’m grateful when he closes the door behind him with the lightest of clicks.
Done. I spend far too long washing my hands then my face, wincing as I see how awful I look. No wonder Milos could barely stand to look at me.
He was being nice and I was clinging to him like an idiot. He’d saved me and I was repaying him by forcing myself on him. Poor guy.
When I open the door Milos is less than a foot away. He reaches for me, I step back. I don’t understand why he reacts as if I smacked him. Fear at the flash of anger in him sends me another step back—right into the wall.
A firm hand wraps around my arm, steadying me. “Careful. Come.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to go back to bed. I can’t take another minute in it.” He sighs. “Please.”
“All right.” He guides me across the room toward the French doors. “It’s nice and cool out tonight.”
“Thank you,” I murmur. The balcony is huge and wide, running the length of the room. “It’s beautiful. How many acres do you have?” I ask as I take in the huge expanse of thick green trees running the perimeter. It isn’t easy to see everything in early twilight. The enormous, enclosed pool that looks like something at a five-star hotel is only visible because it’s lit up all the way around it.
