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But that’s fine. I’ll just have to beat him at his own game this time.
* * *
“You don’t haveto drive me to the airport,” I tell Kirill, who’s personally driving the car.
He never does that.
His face is unreadable, not that he is readable most days, but it’s been shrouded in more mystery since I announced I needed a vacation.
While he readily agreed, his attitude has changed. He’s spent most of his time running external errands and has often ordered me to stay on house guard for Karina.
We haven’t been alone in a room like he used to make sure we were in the past. And as for his room, he’s only used it to shower and change clothes.
As a result, there’s been no sex for three whole days.
Which hasn’t happened in months.
Kirill has never gone an entire day without pulling me into a dark corner to fuck me until I have trouble standing.
So the recent change of attitude has left me baffled. I haven’t been able to sleep or eat properly thinking about the meaning behind all of this.
Considering his nature, Kirill doesn’t do anything without a purpose. Everyone and everything is part of a greater plan for him.
Maybe he did get tired of me and is now throwing me away.
Except…
If that were the case, why would he personally drive me?
“How did you know I was flying out?” I ask when he doesn’t answer my previous question.
Again, no reply.
My hands tighten in my lap, and a mixture of dark feelings—hurt, pain, and dissatisfaction—start to burst at the seams.
“If you were going to be this silent, you could’ve at least let Maksim or Yuri come along.”
Zip. Zilch. Nada.
I stare out the window to stop myself from being overly emotional and probably saying things I shouldn’t.
By the time the car stops in front of the airport, I’m ready to kill the crazy tension that’s been suffocating me for the past hour.
“I’m off.” I don’t look at him, because that will make me want to hug him or kiss him, and we’re simply not in that type of relationship.
A strong hand grips my wrist, wrenching me back, and I gasp as I turn and face him.
A shadow covers his face, and a weird expression I’ve never seen before takes over his sharp features. It’s a mixture of pain and rage, accentuated by the deathly hold on my wrist.
“What?” I ask in a small voice, scared of speaking any louder.
“Don’t go.” It’s two words, but they’re so charged that they hit me in the chest.
“I…will come back in three days. I promise.”
“Don’t. Go.” It’s an order this time, fused with every ounce of authority Kirill is capable of.
“I have to,” I whisper.
