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“You think so, huh?” His piercing gaze locks onto mine. “Well, what if I’d rather spend my time with you? None of those girls at the party have anything interesting to say. They’re not smart or special, they don’t read books or write newspaper columns like you do.”
For the first time, I sense a glimmer of something. It’s not attraction—that, I’m sure of—but rather a feeling that sends shivers down my spine. I’m blushing so furiously I have to look away. No guy has ever complimented me like that. And for those words to come from Leo, I’m not even sure how to process it.
Another crash from downstairs rips through the air. This time, loud yells accompany the sounds of something heavy and no doubt expensive hitting the hard floor.
“What the—” Leo is up out of his seat, the muscles in his jaw twitch as he grits his teeth, clearly agitated. “Seems like we’re the only two sober people in this house. I better go deal with whatever is happening down there.”
I try not to slump in my chair or let my shoulders droop in obvious disappointment. “You should.”
“Enjoy your book, Aly-cat.” He winks.
Winks! Fireworks spark inside my chest and a smile breaks out on my face, until my gaze drops to the book on the table beside me.
The wink was aboutFifty Shades—he knows I’m reading smut!
“I hear it’s … memorable.” He gives me a little smile before leaving.
My cheeks heat. I can die now. The floor can open up and swallow me whole. I silently pray, but it doesn’t happen, and I spend the rest of the night wondering if he’ll ever see me as more than an awkward fifteen-year-old with braces and saucy taste in books.
CHAPTERFIVE
ALYONA
My eyes snap open,and instantly, I know one thing without a doubt. I’m on a boat. A big one. The gentle rocking sensation beneath me is the first clue, as is the faint hum of the engine.
Damn. How long was I out?
And what exactly happened?
And most importantly—what the fuck am I doing here?
Sitting up in this foreign bed, my head pounds with a relentless throb that won’t let up. The dull ache only worsens under the onslaught of sunlight streaming through the curtains.
I dig through my memories, trying to piece together the course of events. The memories are slow to surface, but when they do, horrifying images rush back into my consciousness—the attack, nearly being abducted, taking a man’s life. A man covered in foreboding tattoos.
Tension knots my muscles. I killed a man. Maybe it was in self-defense, but still. This is bad. My hands shake, my breaths come in shallow and fast as another memory surfaces.
Leo. At my door. Insisting I was in danger, that I come with him. The dull prick of a sedative being injected into my veins.Christ, that man.He wrecked my life once before and now seems hell-bent on a repeat performance. He’d better be on this boat so I can throttle him. Or then again, maybe it’s best if he’s not. Because nothing good can come from us being in close proximity for any length of time.
With a groan, I heave myself off the bed and stumble towards what I hope is a bathroom at the far end of the room. My legs are like jelly, but I make it to the door, relieved to discover it is in fact a washroom.
I do my business, grateful to find the bathroom fully stocked with a toothbrush, toothpaste, comb, and face wash. I’m still in the silk pajamas I’d changed into last night after scrubbing my skin until I was near raw, trying to erase the sheen of violence. Oh well, they’ll have to do until I can convince Leo to turn this boat—no wait,yachtaround.
Stepping out of the room, I follow a long narrow hallway towards stairs that lead up to the deck area. Ouch. The light assaults my eyes when I step out into the fresh air and sunshine. I wince, wishing I had a pair of sunglasses. It must be around noon, and being out on the open water, there is nothing to block the furious rays.
My Lord, where the hell has he taken me?
It’s not long before I spot the man I’m searching for. Lounging beneath a canopy with a breakfast spread before him, I wish time had taken a toll on him, but the opposite is true. He’s more muscular, more inked. A rugged five-o’clock shadow adorns his chiseled face, emphasizing his full lips and perfectly straight nose. He may not be as pretty as Daniil or as classically handsome as Andrei, but he’smore—bolder, sexier, fiercer. He’s cut his dark hair short, not like the thick mane of shoulder-length hair he had when we were together, but with the more conservative cut, Leo looks like a modern-day Greek god.
His lips curve into a smirk as I march toward him. He knows what’s coming, he expects me to be furious with him. But judging by the relaxed set of his shoulders, and the amused glint in his eye, he’s not the least bit concerned. Typical. He was always water to my fire, calm to my storm.
“Melon?” He raises a plate of fruit as I stride toward him. His eyes sparkle with classic Kozlov charm that draws everyone and everything into his orbit like planets dancing around the sun.
I don’t bother to respond or even sit down. In a burst of rage, I grab a piece of fruit and fling it at his head. He dodges it.
“So that’s a no?”
“You drugged me, you abducted me, you went against my wishes and—”
