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She looks like she belongs in my bed.
She looks like she belongs in my life.
I shove all that deep down under the rage I’ve held for years and usher them inside. I do allow myself to enjoy the pride that comes with seeing a guest—in this case,guests—gasp in awe at the beauty of my home.
I’m not one for overtly extravagant decor. I’ve been to other homes where the dons andpakhanswasted money on marble statues and Renaissance oil paintings and bullshit like that. That shit has never been my style. I prefer clean edges, muted colors, open spaces.
I also prefer having water in the middle of a desert, which is why the foyer has a fountain. And why the main entry room has an even bigger fountain, and the living room is more like a courtyard with a fountain that’s basically a pool.
Willow lights up and immediately asks her mother if she can go swimming. Clara hushes her, glancing at me apologetically.
Quite frankly, I don’t care if the kid splashes her way through the entire house. I’ve got bigger things to worry about.
Bambi walks into the main entry room with a warm smile on her face and her trusty tablet tucked in her arm. “Welcome! You must be Clara.” Her eyes shift to the kid, and her smile brightens. “And you,” she says, crouching down to eye level, “must be Willow.”
Willow nods, but retreats closer to Clara’s leg.
“Sorry,” Clara mutters. “She’s shy.”
Bambi giggles and winks at the kid, then straightens. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen this side of her before. It’s… weird. “I heard someone ask about swimming. We will definitely need to go do that later.”
I clear my throat and scrub a hand over my jaw. Bambi gets the signal and nods, returning to her more professional demeanor.
“Your rooms are ready,” she says. “I’ll show you where?—”
“Actually, why don’t you go ahead and take Miss Willow here?” I interject. A sudden idea has struck, and it involves getting Clara alone. “I don’t think we have enough toys yet, and the chef needs the recipe for chicken nuggets.” I put on my best serious face and lean down a bit to wink at the kid. “Think you can help Bambi out here?”
Willow slowly smiles until it looks like her face will split. She nods and immediately takes Bambi’s hand, following her down the wide hall toward the kitchen. I feel something strange in my chest—fondness, maybe?—as I watch them chatter and swing their clasped hands together playfully.
No, that can’t be right. Demyen Zakrevsky doesnotgrow fond of small children.
Especially not the small children of people I have a score to settle with.
Clara looks completely flabbergasted as she looks around now that her kid is elsewhere; she’s practically spinning in place. When her eyes land on me once again, she sobers and clears her throat. “Sorry. Just… this place is amazing.”
I nod. “It’s comfortable. Speaking of which, let’s find your room.”
I hold a hand out to her, and she hesitates. But then she steps into the offered space and allows me to press my hand to the center of her back. I don’t want her to feel threatened or scared; I don’t want her to run away. I can’t afford to scare her into running away.
Not when everything isfinallyfalling into place.
Just a few more steps, and we can put a years-long plan into motion.
13
DEMYEN
The walk isn’t too long. I’m grateful for it, though, because the silence is heavy between us. Clara seems uncertain but excited, self-conscious but relieved. Given what little I know of her ex, and the pitiful state of her friend’s microscopic apartment, I can understand.
But a thousand questions and a thousand more demands are pressing on my tongue. I know that the moment I open my mouth, the flood will spill out.
So instead, I just open the door and let her gasp her way into the large guest room. It’s more like a small apartment, complete with a walk-in closet, a full bathroom with a steam shower and separate jacuzzi tub, and a king-sized four-poster bed behind a privacy partition wall.
I have an image of tying Clara to the bed, one limb to each corner so she can only mewl her moans up to the ceiling as I devour her. The heat pools low as I wonder if we have enough time…
No. Not right now.
Business first.
