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A valet shows up not even thirty seconds later, rolling up to the curb in a fancy Porsche 911. Mikhail is given his keys, already moving to slide into the driver’s seat.
“Get in. I’m taking you home.”
I shake my head. “I’m not leaving.”
“I’m not going to tell you again.”
“I can’t leave my friend here. That’s such a shitty thing to do.”
“I’ve already called a private car for her. It will pick her up and take her home. Get in the car.”
“Not until you tell me what the hell is going on.”
“Now, Aurora.”
“I don’t take kindly to your tone,” I point out as I reach for the passenger-side door.
“I’ll make a mental note of it.”
The second I’ve got my seatbelt on, he peels away from the curb and shifts into traffic. He drives like a damn maniac, weaving in and out of lanes and taking turns much too sharp for my liking. Despite the obvious rage boiling beneath the surface, I still feel oddly safe with him. A sane woman would steer clear of this asshole, but only I seem to see past his outer layer.
Deep inside, this man is scared. Of what, I can’t quite say, but I’m determined to figure it out.
I’m surprised when we pull up to my apartment building. He didn’t once ask me for directions.
“How do you know where I live?” I ask, incredulous.
“You gave it to payroll, remember?”
“You read my employee file?” I shake my head. “What the fuck is the matter with you?”
“Go inside, Aurora.” His grip on the steering wheel is knuckle white. “Quickly. Before I change my mind.”
“Change your mind?” I echo. “What are you talking about?”
“Were you really going to let him fuck you?” His question rings loudly in my ear.
I cross my arms over my chest, indignant and rightfully pissy as hell. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”
“Like fuck you don’t.”
“I should let someone fuck me. You certainly won’t!” I undo my seatbelt in a hurry, reaching for the door handle with an angry groan. “If you want to let some imaginary husband of mine get in the way,fine.”
“Imaginary?”
“It’s my mother’s ring, Mikhail. To remember her by.”
I slam the door and hurry into the building, climbing the two flights of stairs to get to my second-floor apartment. I know he’s following close on my tail, his footsteps heavy and rushed against the ugly brown hallway carpet. It’s a chase now, a game of cat and mouse. I don’t slow down, hastily shifting through my small clutch for my keys. As soon as I get it open, I feel the hard press of his body against my back.
He pushes the door open, pushesme, before kicking it shut behind him. Mikhail pins my back against the entryway wall, his hands on either side of my head, caging me in. We’re both breathless, teetering on something dangerous. Mikhail’s close, lips hovering just above mine.
“Your mother’s?” he croaks. “Why didn’t you say so sooner?”
“Why didn’t you ask?
His nostrils flare, his chest rising and falling laboriously. Oh, he knows I’m right and he hates it. Mikhail presses his lips into a thin line, the muscles in his jaw twitching. I don’t know what he’s waiting for. Permission, maybe? Or does he want me to push him? He seems to like it when I put up a bit of a fight.
I grab his tie and pull him toward me. Our lips crash together, a beautiful disaster of heated moans and clicking teeth. When I feel him sink deeper into the kiss, I shove him away. Our eyes are locked on each other as I step back slowly in the direction of my bedroom.
