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Worry and stress fill me. For Vic to be acting like this, something has to have him on edge. I walk closely behind him, not wanting to distract his attention. I’m so close that when he comes to an abrupt stop, I plow into his solid body with a cry.
“Shit,” Vic curses. “Are you okay, Emmie?”
“Yeah. Are you okay,Emmie?”
I recoil back with the introduction of that other voice. I know it instantly. I haven’t heard it in a year, but I know it.
Nikolai Petrova.
“Sorry, Mr. Petrova, I didn’t realize it was you,” Vic says, but there’s silence hanging heavy in the air after that. Niko doesn’t bother to respond.
I step around Vic to look at the man that I’ve alternately missed and hated for the past year. He hasn’t changed. I don’t know why, but I expected changes. He’s still devastatingly completely GQ model delicious. His face is still cold, and he has on sunglasses as he stands there in his dark blue suit, but I’m sure his eyes are still just as dark. Niko also still towers over me. I tingle as I step closer toward him. My skin suddenly feeling alive in a way that it hasn’t since the night of my sixteenth birthday party and his lips brushed against my cheek.
That was the night I became infatuated with the man.
It was the night that I apparently lost all my brain cells.
I moisten my lips as I stare at him. I’ve spent a lot of time over the last year wondering where he had disappeared to. Now, I find myself wishing he would go away again. I don’t know what I feel when it comes to Niko. I just know it’s confusing.
“What are you doing here?”
“You’re late getting home from school.”
I frown. “My father didn’t have anything planned that I’m aware of. I also don’t have a set time to be home—as long as I’m there for supper or call and say I won’t make it. My father’s only requirement is that I keep Vic with me. All of which I’m doing, by the way.”
He pulls away from his vehicle which is in the parking space in front of ours. He opens the door and stands back. “Get in, Emilia. I’m taking you home.”
“Vic can bring me—”
“Get in.”
His tone doesn’t leave room for arguing and I figure I better not. I give him another frown. He ignores it much like he did my last one. I look over at Vic and shrug my shoulders. “See you later, big guy.”
“Later,” he says, as Niko lets out a muffled rumbling noise.
I clutch my milkshake close as Niko helps me slide into the back seat of his limo. He gets in beside me and slams the door. I instantly scoot over, getting farther away from him. He apparently doesn’t understand my intention because he immediately moves closer. When I try to move again, his hand clamps down on my leg. Stay.”
I simultaneously melt and get upset. The contact of his hand against my bare leg heats my skin and seems to mark me. My body tingles and comes alive. Then, I remember what’s going on.
“I’m not a dog, Niko.”
“Trust me, I know.”
I bite my tongue to keep from saying more. In the past year, I’ve made great strides in controlling my panic attacks, but I can feel my anxiety rising. I don’t want to risk making Niko mad. If I did that, his anger might cause an episode. I’m already on edge just being this close to him. I miss having Vic here. He has become a lifesaver. About six months ago, he saw me during an attack. He held me and let me breathe into a paper bag. I was awkward with him the next day and he told me his little sister used to have the same issue and not to be embarrassed. When I told him they started after my mom got sick, he seemed to understand. Having him close makes things easier—and is probably the biggest reason that I’m dealing with them better.
“Have you been working somewhere else besides Florida?” I ask a few minutes later.
“No.”
He doesn’t even look at me when he answers. His hand moves off my leg, but his attention moves to his phone. He’s completely ignoring me. It should make me mad, but instead, it just hurts my feelings. If Zoe was here she would get pissed and let Niko have it with both barrels. Or, she’d demand the driver pull over and get out of the car. I wish I could do that. I can’t, though. I don’t truly know what holds me back. I don’t think Niko would physically hurt me. My father would kill him. Yet, I still don’t do anything. I just lamely mumble, “Oh,” beneath my breath.
“Oh?” he repeats.
“Yeah, oh.”
“Why did you ask?”
I sigh, wishing I’d kept my mouth shut. “No reason. I just haven’t seen you—like at all.”
