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“Yeah, but they seem older.”
“Harder life,” I said succinctly.
“Yeah. It makes hitting up Delaney weird, but kind of intriguing.”
“Do what you want. Just remember, she might expect more,” I said, nearly choking on my hypocrisy.
Will’s expression turned thoughtful, and he nodded. “Maybe you're right,” he muttered, causing me to look at him more closely.
“Do you actually like her?” I asked in amazement.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe it was just cool to hang out with a girl who wasn’t connected to the organization. She was…sweet, fun. It’s easy to forget that kind of sweetness exists, you know?”
Did I know? Fuck yes, I knew. I grunted instead of answering.
“Oh, of course, you know,” Will crowed. “You were just knee deep in the sweetest—”
I turned to him, grabbing him by the collar. “Watch it,” I said harshly.
He smirked and I shoved him away, knowing I was revealing way too much, but was too out of control to stop myself. Thank fuck it was the weekend.
I was going to send someone to cover Emmy this weekend—I needed a break. I needed to get my shit back together and put this thing back on track.
No more flirting, no more touching, and definitely no more kissing and getting naked. No more cute conversations with a drunk and adorable Emmy who made me want to rip her clothes off and fuck her brains out.
When I came back, it was going to be all professional from here on out.
It had to be.
Chapter 21
Emmy
I walked out of class on Monday, disappointed not to find Ivan waiting, even though he didn't even pick me up from this class. That feeling of disappointment had been a running theme since last Friday night.
While memories of Ivan’s excited body hovering over mine, his face almost savage with arousal sent a blast of heat skittering through my lady parts, I also had to confront the fact that he walked out as soon as an opportunity provided itself and hadn’t returned since. Even though I knew he might react this way, his obvious rejection was hard to swallow and viciously painful.
I didn’t hear from him all weekend, but he sent another guy over here to check on me every morning and evening. Vadim was about fifty and barely spoke any English. I think his name was Vadim—I could be wrong because I hadn’t been able to understand him that well. I ended up just staying in the rest of the weekend. Even eating in my room.
Thank god Delaney had to go home for her mom’s birthday or explaining the older Russian’s appearance at our door several times a day would have been awkward to explain.
I couldn’t believe Ivan sent someone else. Was he not protecting me anymore? I wanted to ask Vadim if he was permanent, but I was too afraid of the answer, and too humiliated, to ask.
I kept telling myself not to be surprised, that Ivan had been trying to avoid physical contact with me since the beginning, but I was crushed by his avoidance. His behavior bore an eerie resemblance to the first night we met. He spent the whole night by my side holding my hand, consoling me, making me feel safe, only to completely disappear the next morning.
Of course, that night he’d been more an involuntary prisoner of my mental breakdown than a willing participant. For all his avoidance this time around, Ivan had been a very willing participant last Friday. I found myself rubbing the fading bruise on my stomach as if reassuring myself it had actually happened.
I had never experienced anything like the intense pleasure Ivan showed me on Friday—hadn’t even known it existed. I mean, I’d taken care of my own needs before like any healthy young woman, but having the man of your dreams focus all of his considerable sexual intensity and skill on you, manipulate your body into producing ecstasy you never imagined existed, and claim you in a million unspoken ways? There were no words. If I hadn’t already been infatuated with him, Friday night definitely threw me into full blown obsession.
I was supposed to see Hannah tomorrow for lunch and our date couldn’t have come at a better time. I needed her advice more right now than at any other time in my life. I was so confused, but all my instincts felt wrong.
I was tempted to text him throughout the weekend and wracked my brain to think of something justifiable to talk to him about, but unfortunately there was nothing. I even considered encouraging Delaney to have Drew over in order to discuss their relationship so I’d have to leave the room and therefore have an excuse to contact him. A pathetic thought I quickly discarded.
As far as Delaney is concerned, I might not have to nudge her into anything. She was still mad at Drew, but as his attempts to contact her tapered off, she started to complain that he wasn’t trying hard enough to get her back.
Initially, I never imagined she’d give Drew another chance after blowing her off last Friday, but she seemed to be softening towards him. I understood all too well the inclination to keep extending chances to someone even though he keeps fucking up.
As if conjured by my thoughts, Drew popped up beside me. “Hey, Emmy,” he said, his normally cheerful face looking dejected.
