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If I wasn’t being held against my will in a foreign country, I’d be gushing over the luxurious amenities in our hotel room.
I don’t know why I’m surprised; Timofey doesn’t exactly lead a low-key lifestyle. Still, the full bar we’re actually allowed to drink from, the huge private balcony with a view of the city, and an equally huge jacuzzi tub make this the nicest hotel room I’ve ever been in. Never mind the beautifully patterned mosaic tiling beneath my feet or the lush foliage wrapped around the arched columns that separate the living room from a dining area.
“There’s a fireplace,” I gasp. “We’re in Mexico. Who needs a fireplace in Mexico?”
Timofey has been quiet since we left the airport. He tossed back a bottle of water in the car and another from the lobby downstairs before we came up to our room. I get the sense he’s trying to sober up.
“Is there anything else I can get for you, Mr. Viktorov?” A young man with a clean-shaven face and a burgundy uniform stands in the doorway to the bedroom, his hands tucked behind his back.
“Extra pillows,” Timofey orders. “And towels.”
“They’ve already been placed in the linen closet in the hallway. I’ll leave a note for the maids to replenish the stash after they clean.”
“Take the room off the cleaning schedule. I’ll request it when necessary.”
“Of course, sir.” The man nods. “Anything else?”
Timofey doesn’t look at me, but I feel his attention shift in my direction nonetheless. “Send up some food first thing in the morning. Bagels, cream cheese, and fruit.”
The man nods again, and Timofey slides a wad of money in his hand.
Well,hewon’t be any help to me, I think.I should have factored in buying off people for information and loyalty into my budget.
When it comes to forging allies, my sob story isn’t as strong a currency as the cold hard cash in Timofey’s wallet. He paid off the TSA, for crying out loud. I’m sure the going rate for a bellboy is a lot lower. So if I can’t even affordthat,I’m in for a world of hurt.
Then the door closes, and we’re alone, and the price of buying a bellboy’s loyalty is suddenly the least of my concerns.
The air crackles with a tension I don’t know how to dissipate. I decide not to try.
“I assume we’d rather not see each other.” I gesture to the living room behind me. “I can take the couch.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
I look at the only other option: the master suite. It’s visible through the double doors straight ahead. There’s a canopy bed draped in gauzy, almost sensual fabric, and of course it has another private balcony.
“You’re going to give me the master?” It’s a stupid question, I know. That room was built and decorated for one particular purpose. I just don’t see Timofey utilizing that purpose while he’s still wanting to throttle me and murder my loved ones.
“I’m not giving you anything. You’ve taken more than enough,” he snarls. “We’re sharing.”
Then again, I could be wrong.
He turns to me slowly. His dark hair glistens in the silver moonlight pouring through the window. It still looks like he could use a nap and a pot of coffee, but even on the wrong side of a bottle of tequila, Timofey is undeniably handsome.
It’s what makes him deadly.
I can’t help but be drawn in.
“What on earth makes you think I want to sleep anywhere near you?”
“Believe it or not, Piper, this isn’t about what you want.”
I sneer at him. “How could I forget? Everything in life is about whatyouwant.”
He rolls his eyes and spins towards the mini bar. Or, in this case, the not-so-mini bar. There are three shelves of alcohol and a pyramid of tumblers ready to be filled. “If my life was all about what I want, things would look a lot different. For instance, you’d be naked in that bed.”
My skin prickles with heat and awareness. I start to cross my arms over my stomach and then shift them higher, covering my chest. “That’s all you think I’m good for? Sex?”
