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I gulp past the lump in my throat. As much as I’ve seen them over the years, these two scare me, especially after the stories Yan told me about them. How Kirill was in the special forces and killed more than anyone can count, or how Damien beats people to death if they so much as piss him off.
Sometimes, I think I was lucky to land on Adrian’s radar, not theirs. Because spending a minute in their presence has turned me itchy and fidgety.
“He asked you something, beautiful,” Damien insists.
“Why don’t you ask me?”
I release a breath at Adrian’s voice, and I peek at him as he stands beside me, his entire attention on Kirill and Damien who don’t seem happy that their fun was halted.
With careful fingers, I bring the glass of champagne to my lips and take a sip to calm my nerves.
Adrian’s presence sends a mixture of relief and a stab of chronic agony to my aching chest. One-sided emotions are the work of the devil. Not only do they hurt all the time, but they also keep me hoping, pining. Even when I know that Adrian isn’t capable of returning such emotions.
I know he cares. I know Jeremy and I mean something to him, but it’ll never be more than that. He’ll never look at me the way I secretly look at him when he’s not paying attention.
And that hurts more than I care to admit.
Adrian’s face is a blank mask, but I can’t help admiring the serene look covering his features and the sharp edges of his cheekbones. He’s wearing a black suit with a light gray shirt that matches the color of his eyes. He really only ever has those types of dark colors in his wardrobe. And because I volunteer, my taste in clothing is no longer flashy, but more like his, modest and reserved.
“Adrian.” Kirill smiles. “We were just telling Lia how lovely it is that she’s joining us tonight.”
“I thought you said she was sick.” Damien raises a brow.
“She obviously isn’t tonight.” Adrian keeps his cool voice, even though his body is slightly turned toward me.
“Can you tell us more about her sickness that seems to come and go on a whim?” Kirill taps a contemplative thumb on his lips. “I’m curious.”
“I don’t answer to you, Morozov,” Adrian drawls. “In fact, it’s the other way around, so why don’t you turn around and leave?”
Kirill’s expression doesn’t change, but a grin is plastered on his lips. “My, my. This is interesting.”
“What?” Damien’s gaze flits between the three of us. “What’s interesting? What did I miss?”
I’m about to down the glass of champagne in an attempt to douse the tension when I catch a glimpse of a shadow moving in the background. It’s across from me, diagonally to the hall that leads to the back entrance. I know it because I’ve often slipped in there to find Yan and hide from the onlookers.
The unease I’ve felt since a few days ago rushes back in like a merciless hurricane.
I’ll take care of it.
My eyes widen in remembrance of Luca’s words. No. Don’t tell me he…
I don’t get the chance to think about it when metal glints in the corner. I drop my glass of champagne and grab Adrian by the sleeve, then pull him down so we’re both tumbling against the tables.
A shot rings in the air and a collective gasp follows.
Adrian’s large body drops atop of mine and his hard chest covers my front on the ground. He retrieves his gun, and I stare at his face a few inches away from mine.
I feel up his sides, mechanically searching for a wound. That was so close, what if he…what if he…
Adrian grabs my face, his voice harsh as doom. “Are you hurt?”
I shake my head.
“Use your voice, Lia.”
“No. Are you?” Both of my hands are digging in the sides of his jacket, but I still want to make sure he’s okay.
“I’m fine.” He releases a sharp breath. “How did you know?”
