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“Hotel?” She questioned, still somewhat dazed from our quickie. She moved beneath my arm and crawled into the backseat of the SUV; confusion stitched into her features.
One of our men stepped over to get into the driver’s seat, but I held a hand up to stop him, insisting I’d take her. He stepped back with a dutiful nod and disappeared into the club. I didn’t want to bother having the valet retrieve my Audi, knowing it was safe on Ivan’s property. The Range Rover was more convenient.
“We can spend some time there before we go back home,” I replied, helping her in.
Before I could move back and reach the driver’s seat, Mila gripped the front of my jacket and pulled me in with her. I followed, not wanting to deny her when she had been so willing and good for me.
“Stay,” Mila whispered, tucking into my side, and letting her head drop against my shoulder. “Just for a little while.”
Unable to deny her, I closed the door and pulled her into me, getting comfortable. Surprising above all else, I didn’t mind. I liked having her near, not fighting or nagging.
“I like our moments like this,” Mila said tenderly, taking my opposite hand in hers. She put our palms together, watching as she threaded her fingers through mine. “Like we’re really a married couple. It reminds me of that night.”
It seemed neither of us could forget about that night at the hotel. It was where everything began between us—a testament to our undeniable attraction to one another. When we both gave in to our longing, we were like animals. Savage until we got what we wanted.
With her in my arms, it made me curious about how much farther we could go. I wanted to find out how strong our connection truly was, and if she could find it inside herself to be happy with our marriage.
After what felt like the end of my bitterness toward her, I realized that was possible for me.
“I do too,” I replied, realizing it would be rude to let her words fall into stagnant silence. “I like when you aren’t fighting me.”
Mila chuckled and leaned into me. “It helps when you don’t give me a reason to.”
“That’s a fair point.”
It seemed glaringly simple then. I didn’t need to guard myself against her completely, and with my lenience, there was room for Mila to feel fondly toward me. Without that resentment, there was a chance of us becoming a real family.
It sounded more appealing than fighting against our arranged marriage.
At the bottom of it all, I cared about her, and I wanted Mila to be happy, just as much as I wanted the same for our daughter.
Mila’s gentle sigh piqued my interest then, reigniting that desire I had for her. With my arm wrapped around her, I let my hand drop to her thigh. I rubbed her skin, taking in how she nuzzled into me.
My fingertips trailed as far down as I could reach before bringing them back up to give her a gentle squeeze. Mila hummed her appeasement, which only made the ache in my gut even worse.
Before I knew it, I was prepared for another round. I pictured Mila at the hotel then, face buried in the pillows as I gave her what she wanted. As I gave in to my own longing.
With her eyes closed contentedly, basking in her afterglow, Mila looked radiant. Her perfectly crafted features tempted me, and the thought of hopping into the front and taking her to the hotel to get a move on round two entered my mind.
Carefully, I brought a hand over to her chin, motioning for her to look at me. Our eyes met, and my blood seemed to rise in temperature. She blinked back at me softly, reminding me of the woman I had first met all those years before.
Before I could kiss her, a loud crash tore every thought from my mind, and my ears rang. Glass sprayed all around us, and Mila tightened herself into a ball, arms over her head. I shielded her instinctively, watching as the tiny shards fell to the floor.
Glancing up, I found the small imprint in the back windshield, surrounded by millions of cracks. It looked like the mark of a crowbar.
Gritting my teeth, I sat up, shaking the glass away from me. Mila panted from next to me, trembling in her spot. But I watched as the culprit tore down the street on foot, already getting a head start.
“Oh no you don’t,” I growled, throwing myself into the front seat. Jamming the key forward, the ignition came to life, and I peeled away from our parking place.
Without looking behind me, I hammered down the street, hot on the man’s trail.
Being in a wealthier, upscale side of the city, petty crime was low. It wasn’t some random hit. It was personal, and I knew that immediately. The Balakins knew what our men drove, and that couldn’t be a coincidence.
“Buckle up!” I shouted back at Mila, glancing through the rearview to watch as Mila collected herself enough to reach for the seatbelt.
Full attention on whoever had smashed the windshield, I pressed my foot into the gas. Anger boiled inside of me, waiting to be unleashed at the next chance I had. With any luck, I’d take it out on him.
The culprit rounded a building and raced down an alleyway, but my car was much faster. I made the turn with ease and put the heat on him. It turns out, it was a dead end, and the guy had no choice but to hit the wall and slam a fist against it, knowing he was screwed.
