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“Get changed and meet us in the lobby in fifteen minutes,” he instructs, his tone final. His eyes don’t leave mine, but there’s no warmth there, no softness – just a hard, distant formality that leaves me feeling empty.
“What? Where are we—?” I start to question, but he’s already turning away from me, focusing his attention on Miss Katya.
“Don’t keep us waiting,” Luka cuts me off again. His voice is void of any warmth or familiarity, replaced by the icy professional tone he uses with all the other staff. The impact is immediate, a gut punch that steals my breath away.
I watch, rooted to the spot, as he leans down to Miss Katya. His voice lowers to a murmur, too low for me to catch the words. The soft smile on his face as he talks to her makes a surge of annoyance prickle at me. It’s irrational, I know.
“Thank you for taking care of Yulia, Miss Katya.” Luka straightens up, the softness in his eyes for Miss Katya contrasting with the indifference I receive. I clench my fists, irritation bubbling in my veins.
Don’t let it bother you, dammit!
Before I can gather my thoughts, Yulia’s voice cuts through my internal turmoil.
“Can’t you tell me where we are going?” she asks curiously. He turns his attention back to her, the gentleness returning to his voice. The discrepancy fuels my frustration, my mind spinning with unanswered questions.
“You’ll see, malyška.” He winks at her. I grit my teeth. So much tenderness and none of it aimed at me.
Why the hell should I care, anyway?
“Where are we…?” I start to ask again, but my words die on my lips. There’s a finality in his expression that makes me feel like I’ve been dismissed, like I’m not worth his time or his explanations.
“Get changed and meet us in the lobby,” he repeats, not a hint of emotion in his voice. And with that, he scoops Yulia into his arms, leaving me alone with my swirling thoughts, staring at the now empty doorway.
I drag myself toward my room, an unholy mix of anger, disappointment, bone-deep weariness, and a stinging slice of jealousy coursing through my veins. The weight of the world feels cemented on my shoulders, matching the emotional shit-show I’m carrying around.
I flop onto the bed, letting my face sink into my palms, surrendering to this damn whirlpool of emotions. It’s only when I peel my face out of my hands that the sight of something on my table freezes me.
There’s a paper there, a single, lonely note that screams out of place.
“Pillow,” it reads. One fucking word. My heart stutters, my brain firing off questions like a malfunctioning machine gun.
A twisted knot of apprehension curls in my stomach as I turn to my pillow. Tucked underneath it is a burner phone. Its silent presence screams louder than a bomb.
“Fuck,” I grind out, my mind stuck on repeat, hammering one name over and over. “Aleks.”
But who the hell left this here?
Chapter 34
Luka
SEEING HER bolting down to the lobby shouldn’t twist my insides, but fuck, it does. She’s so insanely gorgeous, it’s nearly unbelievable. I mean, who looks that good in a casual tee and skinny jeans? Her curves are displayed like a goddamn buffet, her face flushed with some unspoken urgency.
I wasn’t expecting the vision that is her. A surprise, that’s what she is. And let’s be clear, I fucking despise surprises. Generally, when I’m caught off guard, it’s a preamble to violence. But now, now I’m clued in. The next time she strides into my line of sight, I’ll be ready. I won’t let that captivating face, those shapely legs, or those arresting eyes distract me from my mission. And damn, that hair. The thought of running my fingers through those thick dark waves, tugging her head back to expose that tender neck of hers…
Fuck.
Suddenly, the recklessness of last night hits me. I’ve never fucked up like this before, always had my shit together, always used a fucking condom. But with Sophia, logic seemed to have flown right out the window. I’d screwed her raw without a second thought. The memory of that, the pure carnality of it, sparks something wild in me, something I haven’t tasted before. I despise how she ties me all up, how she makes me lose control. But fuck me if it doesn’t feel incredible.
A sudden thought hits me like a fist to the throat; the idea of a kid – a fucking baby. Now. The timing couldn’t be more disastrous. It would be a complication, a burden. I’m in no fucking state for that. Not with everything that’s going on. The idea of it sets off a wave of dread in me. I’ve always been a master of control, but Sophia…she’s threatening to unravel all that.
Shaking off the paralyzing thought, I focus on the woman in front of me.
“You’re late,” I bark at her. My words are sharp, an intended jab designed to rile her up.
With a spark of rebellion, Sophia fires back, “Five minutes late, because I was putting together a lunch for Yulia, just in case—” She halts mid-sentence, looking to the car where Yulia is already buckled in the backseat. A familiar head pops up from the window. Max’s tongue lolls out in a canine grin. His joy is infectious, if not a bit irritating.
“In case of what, Sophia?” I prod.
