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I glance down at the files on my desk, hoping they’ll provide something resembling an answer. Like,you need to focus on this instead of her.Like,you shouldn’t fraternize with The Enemy.
But instead, I find tiny little notes she apparently scribbled next to mine while I wasn’t paying attention. They’re questions, not answers, but still… they’re proof that she means it: she’s trying.
She’s not The Enemy. Not anymore.
And I just let her fucking leave?
Hell no.
I drop the bourbon and go running after her.
57
CLARA
Breathe.
Breathe, Clara.
Just… breathe.
But that’s hard to do when Demyen Zakrevsky is sucking the air from my lungs in more ways than one.
I can’t believe I fell for it. I can’t believe I let him get to me. I don’t even know why he’s suddenly so…there.
I mean, what flipped his switch? Earlier, he was so pissed I thought he was going to chop me up and throw me into some ravine out there in the desert.
You know, like a gangster would. Becausehe is one.
But something shifted in him at the casino. I have no idea what it was or why. All I do know is that he kissed me, right there in front of Martin, and oh my God. What a kiss. Mind-blowing.
At least, I thought that was mind-blowing—until about five minutes ago, when he topped it with whateverthatwas in his office.
A distraction. That’s what that was.
I needed to get away from him before I made yet another dangerous mistake. So I fumbled my way out of his arms and out the door and ran to the first unlocked building I could find, which happens to be the laundry facility.
For a household this large, it’s practically a laundromat in its own right. But right now, it’s a quiet, empty safe haven away from the foggy confusion that Demyen brings to my world.
I just need to breathe. Pull myself together. Remind myself that I’m only working here until I can figure out the next best move.
Until then, I just need to stay far the fuck away from?—
The door to the laundry room swings open.
Him.
It should be a crime how quickly my thighs clench whenever that man darkens my doorway. Demyen steps inside and quietly shuts the door behind him, locking it. My heart picks up the pace and I slowly inch my way back against one of the washing machines as he comes closer.
“Listen, Clara, I…” His dark eyes roam over my body. He seems to be arguing with himself for a moment, because he lets out a low growl and takes another step closer. “Fucking hell. I don’t know what I’m doing. You’re supposed to be my prisoner and I’m supposed to be eternally furious with you for fucking up my family.”
There’s a “but” in there, somewhere.I hope.
“But…”
Oh, thank God.
Demyen’s gaze heats more the longer his eyes roam. “I can’t get rid of the image of you making yourself come on your bed. For me.”
