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If he disapproves of my tone, he says nothing and, instead, addresses Crooked Nose in a foreign language that I assume is Russian.
He looks slightly different as he speaks in it, but not exactly in a better way. More like authoritative and non-negotiable. He gives off that vibe with his subtle Russian accent, too, but it’s clearer with his mother tongue. It could be because I don’t speak the language, though.
Crooked Nose nods, then steps out. After ten minutes of utter silence, he comes back with a takeout bag. My mouth waters at the smell of hot bread and fresh vegetables. I wish Larry were here with me; he usually steals sandwiches for me and I share, but he always says he’s full. He doesn’t like me stealing alcohol, but he’s fine with stealing food. That old man has a warped sense of morality.
However, none of the sandwiches he’s brought me have ever smelled this divine. Like it’s right out of an oven.
My stomach growls again, and this time, I don’t try to hide it.
Crooked Nose hands the bag to Adrian, not me. Neither he nor Bulky Blond look in my direction.
Adrian opens the bag and hands me the sandwich. I don’t even pause to see what’s inside it. I bite straight into it, filling my mouth in one go. It melts on my tongue and I don’t properly chew before gulping it down.
I’m about to take another bite when it’s pulled from my fingers.
“W-what—” I stare incredulously at the perpetrator, Adrian, who snatched my sandwich. Please don’t tell me he bought me food just to take it away.
“Eat slower or you’ll get indigestion.” He tears off a piece and places it in front of my mouth. I try to take it from him, but he shakes his head.
I really don’t care about the method as long as I eat right now, so I open wide and let him put it in my mouth. As soon as it’s inside, I swallow it in one go.
“Slower,” he repeats, more firmly this time. “Chew first.”
It’s then I realize that we’re actually moving. I’ve been so focused on the sandwich that I lost all awareness of my surroundings.
Except for Adrian.
One way or another, he’s been present ever since I first met him. He’s a quiet force that slowly creeps under my skin and leaves me panting for more—or less. Either way, he’s there, under my skin, and it’s impossible to breathe without feeling his presence.
It’s baffling to think I’ve lived twenty-seven years and have never experienced such intensity. Such…raw, quiet display of power.
I’ve always thought those in power ensured it by brute methods, that they killed or schemed. That they were loud and barked orders—like Richard. Adrian is the complete opposite of that notion—he’s silent, calm, but exudes an authority so raw, it’s even more terrifying than those with loud power.
When Adrian gives me another piece of the sandwich, I chew, letting the spicy taste explode in my mouth. It’s rich and exquisite and might very well be the most delicious meal I’ve had in…ever.
I don’t protest as he continues to feed me, his fingers brushing against my lips with each bite. He has really masculine fingers—long, lean, and calloused enough to cause a weird sensation whenever they meet my skin—no matter how brief the contact.
He’s patient, not attempting to hurry the process, as if he has all the time in the world to feed me. He fixes me with a disapproving stare, pausing when I don’t chew long enough or when I do it fast, and that’s my cue to slow down or he’ll take my meal away.
By the time the sandwich is finished, I’m full. Not bloated like when Larry decides to go kamikaze and steal three sandwiches, but I’m full enough that I swallow the final bite with a sigh. I close my eyes to commit the taste to memory in case it’s the last delicious meal I have for months.
It would be perfect if some alcohol came with it, too. I can feel the headache starting at the back of my skull, and I can’t afford to be sober for too long.
When I open my eyes, I find Adrian watching me intently. His forefinger taps on his thigh in a quiet rhythm as if it’s participating in his observation.
I’m about to break eye contact—because it’s still as unnerving as hell—when his next gesture stops me. I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to.
Adrian plunges his index and middle finger into his mouth, sucking on the tips that are a bit greasy from how he fed me. The way his lips wrap around his skin sends a weird sensation through me. I want it to stop, but at the same time, I don’t know if I’ll like it if it stops.
He pops his fingers out and finishes by licking his thumb before he uses a paper napkin.
I force my gaze away to stare through the window. The city’s endless buildings fly by us, but I can only see the way he thrust his fingers into his mouth as if he…was thrusting them somewhere else and—
My very inappropriate thoughts are interrupted when the car stops in front of a black metal gate that’s as tall and as high as one at a palace.
It slowly opens with a loud creak that can be heard from inside the car. Bulky Blond drives inside before it’s fully open.
I stare behind us and, sure enough, the gate is now closing.
