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Why me? Why has he gone to all this trouble to have me?
Opening my eyes, I trace the groove of his ab muscle with my finger. “So is it just because of the way I look? Or because I’m pretty and a Molotov?” I don’t lift my head as I ask the question.
A part of me is afraid I already know the answer.
He chuckles, the sound a soft, deep rumble under my ear. “You’re not going to drop this, are you?” At my silence, he sighs. “It’s not because you’re a Molotov. That’s actually a strike against you. I’d much rather not deal with your family, believe me.”
I do believe him. The Leonovs are rich and powerful enough not to need our resources or connections, which is why this betrothal never made sense to me. “So… you just like the way I look.”
He moves his palm to the base of my neck and squeezes gently, massaging away any gathering tension. “Alinyonok…” His tone is wry. “You know that I didn’t exactly lack for female companionship before I met you, right? Some people might even consider the women I spent time with to be as beautiful as you.”
Something green and swamp-like stirs within me. “I… Yes. I know that.”
He’s silent for a beat. Then he asks quietly, “Do you remember the day we met?”
“Of course I do.” That evening eleven years ago is etched in my mind as clearly as if it had taken place yesterday.
“What did you think when you first saw me?” He shifts me off of him and positions me so I’m lying on my side, facing him. His eyes gleam like black diamonds as he waits for my answer. “When we ran into each other in that hallway, what did you think of me?”
I’m tempted to lie, but what would be the point? It’s hard to deny my attraction to him after I’ve just combusted in his arms. I clear my throat, fighting the urge to look away from his piercing stare. “I thought you were dangerous… and hot. But mostly dangerous.”
If he’s amused by my answer, he doesn’t show it. His expression doesn’t change as he asks, “Do you want to know what I thought of you?”
“Let me guess… You thought I was pretty.”
“Beautiful,” he corrects. “And yes, I thought that—until you started talking.” I draw back, insulted, but he continues. “That’s when I learned that you were also clever and fearless.” His lips twitch in a ghost of a smile. “‘Are they dangling you,’ indeed.”
“I remember that,” I say bemusedly.
When he learned who I was, he thought I was underaged bait, a trap set out for him. Which, in a way, is what I was—I just wasn’t there specifically for him. My parents liked to dangle me in front of everyone, to dress me up and parade me like a show pony.
Alexei pushes up onto his elbow. “I’m glad,” he says softly, his eyes never leaving mine. “Because I haven’t forgotten a single moment of that encounter. Even before I left your parents’ penthouse that evening, I knew I’d have trouble forgetting you. I just didn’t know how much trouble. You were like a comet streaking through the sky—so bright and rare you took my breath away.”
My spine tingles at the intensity in his gaze even as I try to make light of his words. “I guess the bait worked then, huh?”
“Too well,” he confirms. “You were all I could think about for weeks. Then months. Finally, I knew I had to see you again—if only to prove to myself that you were nothing like how I’d built you up in my mind. You were barely fourteen, for fuck’s sake. I had no business thinking of you, much less wanting you.” His lips twist in self-derision. “I figured they’d glossed you up for the party, made you look like the adult you weren’t, so if I ran into you on a regular day, I’d see that you were nothing special and finally rid myself of this obsession. I told myself there was no way you could be as mesmerizing as I remembered… as smart and brave. But you were.”
I stare at him, my heart beating unevenly. I don’t know how to feel about what he’s saying because I also remember our next encounter—and the fallout from it. “Are you saying it wasn’t an accident that you walked in on me with Dan in the library? That you came there looking for me?”
Alexei’s gaze is unblinking. “Yes. I got my father to invite us to your parents’ place, and when your mother mentioned that you were in the middle of an English lesson, I excused myself to answer some emails on my laptop and went searching for you. And I found you… with him.”
My stomach tightens, and I turn onto my back to stare up at the ceiling. “So you killed him. An innocent man who’d merely brushed some lint off my face. And then you decided to arrange our betrothal—even though I was still only fourteen.”
