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“She was killed,” I force the words out. “Three years ago.” I can’t bring myself to share the details. The brutality of it. Some things don’t bear being spoken out loud. Besides, it’s something I don’t want to relive while I’m here with her.
“I’m so sorry.” Scarlett’s eyes shimmer, her empathy unsettling.
“I couldn’t save her,” I say hoarsely. “I tried but…” I trail off before I can reveal too much, and close my eyes against the memory of it. The metallic scent of blood, the stench of gunpowder that had once been a familiar friend that had suddenly become the enemy.
Scarlett pulls me down against her, wrapping her arms around me.
“It wasn’t your fault,” she says fiercely.
I open my eyes and stare at her, wishing her words were true. But they’re not. It was my fault. It was all my fault. Katya’s death will haunt me until the day I die, a grim reminder of the consequences of my past.
“Enough,” I say, steering the conversation away from dangerous waters. “You have secrets too. How did you end up here?” My curiosity is piqued; she’s an enigma, and in spite of myself, I want to know more about her.
Scarlett’s eyes flicker with hesitation, a guarded look crossing her face.
“Well, you already know that.” She raises an eyebrow. “You made me stay, remember?”
I brush a thick crimson curl from her face. “I’m thinking it was one of my better ideas.”
“Oh, yeah?” She grins at me. “Now why would you think that?”
I stroke my thumb over a puckering nipple, feeling my cock stiffen in response. “Shall I show you?”
Her laughter is warm. “Again? Oh, my God. Is that a Russian thing?”
“Russian thing?”
“Being a sex machine,” she giggles. “I’ve never known anyone who could be ready as often as you are.”
I chuckle, my thumb still stroking. “Only with you,” I say, surprising myself. It’s true, though. I’ve never had trouble with women, but this one… Fuck. She’s had my cock at attention since the first time I saw her in that seedy bar. If I’m honest with myself, I probably didn’t really need to make her stay here that day she came for the interview. She had no idea of what she’d stumbled into. The chances of her telling anyone about us were ridiculously low. So why wouldn’t I let her leave?
Because you’re a fool for her, Ulianov.
This entire situation is my own doing. The night at the bar. Having her here…
“You are ignoring my question,” I draw the conversation back. “What’s your story?” I deliberately avoided asking her questions, but I knew from the start that she has one. The woman who has been living under my roof these couple of months is a closed book.
“Not much to tell.” Her tone is evasive. “I’ve been drifting a bit, trying to figure out what to do with my life, I guess.”
I narrow my eyes on her. “How old are you?”
“What?” She flashes me a sharp look. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“You don’t strike me as an aimless woman, Scarlett. Not lazy, not incapable. Not drifting. I think you are someone with drive. Why has it brought you here?”
She stares at me, astonishment widening her eyes. “I just… I…”
“You have skills,Zayka.” I cock my head. She knows what I’m talking about. She taught my kid how to pick a lock, for fuck’s sake.
“I’m not a little rabbit,” she mutters, not meeting my eyes.
“No?” I tip my finger beneath her chin and tilt her face up. “But you are running from something. Aren’t you?” Our eyes lock for a second and I know I’ve struck a nerve. She has secrets, I’m sure of it. She’s keeping something from me. And it’s big enough to have her running scared.
It’s time I found out what the fuck it is.
Chapter 25
Scarlett
