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That is not mine.
I turn to the cabinet for a glass and hold it under the sink for a quick drink. The glass is halfway to my mouth when I see a figure on the couch. I peer over to see Kate draped across the couch, a book lying on her chest. Her lashes are fluttering, and her chest is rising and falling in rhythm. Warmth spreads deep in my chest.
I watch her unabashedly, eyes roaming down her body to take in her baggy shirt and pajama shorts. On Kate, they are the sexiest outfit, and not even a naked woman could compare. Her hair is in a top bun, pieces escaping, and they fall in her face. I move to her and reach out, pushing a few out of her face. A small sigh breaks the silence, and I freeze, not wanting to wake her up.
I head back into the kitchen to heat up some of Ilena’s soup for dinner and occupy myself for the next thirty minutes. When I’m finished, sleep is calling me, but I can’t leave Kate sprawled on the couch. I head back to the couch and grab the book sitting there, glancing at the title.
Russian for Beginners.
I snort, tossing it on a chair. Bending down, I slide both my arms under her, lifting to cradle her in my arms. Her face falls on my shoulder, and I can’t help but inhale her scent.
I carry her into her room but it’s foreign and I’m out of place. I haven’t been in this room since Kate started staying here. Placing her on her bed, I pull a blanket up and over until she is covered. I allow my eyes to linger on her face for a few more seconds before scanning the room. The closet is open, and some clothes are hanging there, but other than that, nothing in this room says Kate stays here. It’s void of her own touch. Even her office at work has more personal items than this room.
Irritation flares as I realize she hasn’t made this personal because it’s temporary.
I round the bed to leave when I spot a jar on her dresser. Getting closer, I read the label. VET SCHOOL.
Her jar has a couple hundred-dollar bills in it, and a tightness settles in my chest. My eyes narrow on the top of the jar, and I realize it’s a damn pickle jar. Reaching into my back pocket, I pull out my wallet, and take all the cash I have, and place it in the jar, being careful not to disturb too much. With one last peek at her, I head toward the door, stopping before the threshold. A single thought flashes, and I’m back to the jar, opening it and dropping something else in.
Satisfied I head back to my own room to shower and get some sleep. I type out one last email to Natallia before drifting off.
I need a new black card.
Chapter36
Kate
“You need eat something other than those things.”
Ilena steps over to the kitchen island eyeing my plate in disgust over my selections. I take a glance down at my plate, where I have sectioned out a variety of snacks, and shrug my shoulders.
Luka has been in Russia the past week, and I’ve been trying to let Ilena have a break from all the cooking. Thin crackers, cubes of cheese, and pickles make up my plate.
“It’s called a snack plate.” I grin at her as she continues to wrinkle her nose.
“Mr. Morozov would not like it.” She waves her hands, dismissing me, and turns back to her mixer.
“Mr. Morozov is not here,” I say with a smile, but inside the sharp edges of disappointment poke at me.
Last week I woke up in my bed, covered with a blanket that I was sure I didn’t do myself. In fact, when I thought back, I couldn’t recall getting up from the couch and going to bed. When I sat up, looking around the room, confusion melted away into heartwarming gratitude, knowing Luka had probably put me to bed. I had planned on thanking him at the office the next morning, but when I arrived, Natallia informed me that he, Nik, and Igor had business to attend to in Moscow.
I wouldn’t say the office and penthouse were exceptionally quiet with him gone, because trying to see Luka during the work week was like finding a ship in the night, but itwasdifferent.
I found myself replaying our recent conversations, touches, little gestures, and his rare laughter over in my mind. Somehow, all this space felt void without him.
“He will be back.” Ilena gives me a soft smile, probably reading my thoughts. “What you doing this weekend?”
I ponder that question, not having much to do. Lacy is spending time with her fiancé’s parents, and I haven’t heard back from my mom since I called her earlier.
“Maybe I’ll keep learning Russian,” I quip, gesturing to the book on the counter beside me.
Ilena snorts. “You don’t learn Russian from book. Here taste this.” She hands me a spoon with fluffy white icing on it. My mouth explodes with sweet coconut flavoring and my eyes go wide.
“Umm. That is delicious. What are you making?” I lick the spoon clean, contemplating how mad she’d be if I stole another spoonful.
“Coconut cake. It’s Luka’s birthday. He never here for birthday, but I make cake every year. It was a favorite when he was little boy.”
I blink. It’s Luka’s birthday? I know technically everyone has a birthday, but I’d think Luka would burn that date off the calendar or something. And coconut cake, that’s—
