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As I start to turn to head back home, though, I hear the door creak. I roll my eyes, ready to give miss Ice Queen the finger. Slowly, I turn with the sneer on my lip as the door swings open.
And then my heart stops beating for a second.
Suddenly, I’m face-to-face with The Wolf himself.
The dark hair, the piercing green eyes. The dark, menacing look on his perfectly chiseled face. My eyes drop, and I blush.
He’s also shirtless. Shirtless, and… built. And tattooed to hell and back. My face burns as my eyes drink in the broad, muscled shoulders, the lines of his photoshop-perfect chest and abs, and the grooves of his hips diving into the waist of his black jeans.
I slowly drag my eyes up to his stern but slightly amused face. And I tremble.
Ilya Volkov is stunning. And terrifying. And gorgeous. And dangerous looking. His hair is both tussled and perfect. Those almost supernatural green eyes pierce into my very soul. There’s a smug smirk on his perfect lips, and what looks and smells like a spliff dangling from them.
He leans against the doorframe holding a crystal tumbler with what looks like whiskey or scotch in it. His cold, amused gaze sweeps over me.
I shiver under it.
“Well?” He growls—growls, literally. Like a… well, like a wolf.
I frown. “Well… what?”
His smirk deepens. “Well are we doing this outside in the rain or in my room?”
“I… uh, your room would be good?”
He chuckles darkly. I glance past him at the raging party going on.
“Look, if you’re in the middle of something, I can always come back later—”
“I’m ready right now.” He shrugs, his eyes never blinking or leaving mine. “We could go right there on the floor in the middle of it, if an audience is your thing.”
I frown in confusion. “I’m sorry, do you know who I am?”
He shrugs. “I know what you want, and that works for me just fine.”
My frown deepens. “You know what I—” I shake my head. “I’m Tenley.”
“And I’ve got things to do, Tenley,” he grunts thinly. “So if it’s a shag you’re so desperate for, why don’t you turn around, lift that skirt, and say please.”
My mouth falls open, and Istareat him. “Excuse me?!”
His lips grin; the spliff still dangling from them as smoke curls around his piercing green eyes.
“I said to be sure you saidplease—”
I don’t know what takes ahold of me. I just know that I amnotputting up with frat-boy bullshit like this. I’ll take the being relocated to another fucking country. I’ll deal with the fake boyfriend crap. I’ll cater my perfect Plan to fit the new realities of my life. I’ll even deal with snobby rich brats talking down to me because I wasn’t born with a jeweled scepter up my ass.
But I willnotput up with this shit.
Without really thinking it through, my hand darts out. I snatch the glass from his hands, haul back, and splash the contents of it right into his face.
I swear, the music behind him stops. The people behind him freeze and stare with horrified expressions. And it’s only then that I truly realize what I’ve just done.
I just threw a drink in the face of The Wolf—heir apparent to the most brutal mafia family in the world.
And yet, he says nothing. He doesn’t even blink. His gorgeous face drips with scotch. The spliff in his lips dangles limp and soaked against his chin before he spits it out. His jaw grinds.
But suddenly, a fire sparks like molten green magic in his eyes. I gasp as he rapidly closes the short distance between us. His hand juts out, and I choke on my breath as he grabs the front of my raincoat at the neck in a fist. Fear spikes through me as he yanks me hard into him.
The glass drops from my fingers, landing in the wet grass next to the walkway. The hood falls back off my head. Rain pours down over the both of us in sheets as those eyes burn like green fire right into mine. His perfect lips pull back into an animal snarl, white teeth flashing in fury.
I’m petrified. I can’t even scream, let alone try and break free and run for my very life. All I can do is shake as my wide eyes stare up into his.
The seconds tick by as I wait for death. Until finally, his mouth opens.
“Run away, little red,” he snarls thickly and quietly. His grip tightens, almost choking me with the neck of my coat. “Run away, before Ieat you up.”
He shoves me back and lets go. I don’t think. I don’t ask what he means. The fight or flight internal war is over in a quarter second: flight wins.
I turn, and Irunas fast as I can from the big, bad Wolf of Oxford Hills.
