My Trojan Horse Majesty (The Russian Witch’s Curse #5)

13. Izzy

Chapter 13

Izzy

S omething about Leonid distracts me.

His presence makes me think about his hands, about his wicked smile, and about his bright, terribly green eyes. Then I forget things that matter like. . .

I smack my forehead. “We can’t go buy clothes or whatever else you said. My horses are still at Tim ’s place.”

“Your—oh.” Leonid nods. “Your horses and your father’s trailer.”

“Stepfather,” I say. “But, yes. I need to get my horses, and I don’t have anywhere else lined up here to take them.”

“Do you remember being shocked when I transferred more money than you asked for?” He glances my way, already pulling out on the road back to Tim’s place. I’m impressed he remembers how to get there.

As we drive off, I notice Tim jogging out of the jail. He waves at us—presumably wanting a ride. Leonid just smiles serenely as we pass.

“He doesn’t have a car here,” I say. “Maybe we should let him hitch a ride in the back.”

“He can call a friend, if he has any,” Leonid says. “Or he can walk. It’s not that far.”

A week ago, I’d have been frantic at the idea of leaving Tim behind. I’d be worried about how angry he’d be. I’d have been terrified about what might come out of it.

Dumping him is freeing in more ways than one.

“Take some of the money I moved to your account, and find a new place for your horses.” He plucks my phone out of the cupholder and extends it toward me. “Isn’t that what those are good for?”

“I mean, I guess, but what place is going to take two horses today ?” I shake my head. “That’s not how it works. You make plans. I’ll have to leave them at Tim’s until I can find—or.” How depressing. “I could load them up in Steve’s trailer and take them home, I guess.”

He takes the phone.

“Hey,” I say. “Give that back.”

His side eye’s irritating. “Then start calling barns with it—start with the nicest one around here—and ask how much they’d charge to take your horses. Actually, call them, and then hand me the phone.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not going to do that.” But I know just the barn to call. My friend Breanna keeps her horses there, and it’s amazing. Perfect turn out, wonderful care, and the prettiest indoor and outdoor arenas I’ve seen. I pull up the listing, and I call.

“Hello?” a woman asks.

Before I can say a word, Leonid snatches the phone. “Hello, love.”

“Hey,” I say. “You just took it. I can talk.”

But he ignores me. “I’m in a bit of a bind,” he says. “My girlfriend’s got the two loveliest horses, and they cannot stay another day where she’s been boarding them. The grossest guy you’ve ever met is a groom there, and he’s stalking her.” His voice drops to barely above a whisper. “I just found out, and I have to keep her safe.”

My mouth drops open—I’m sure the woman is responding, but I can’t hear what she’s saying in response to his ridiculous story.

“I totally understand that it can be hard to move things around, but there must be something you can do. Understand that money is no object here. I’m happy to pay you an extra ten thousand dollars—apiece—to help you find a new home for whatever horses you need to shift.”

He smiles, so she must be saying something good.

“Of course I’ll have her make a list of what supplements and food they receive.” He shrugs and rolls his eyes. “Yes, we’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

I shake my head. “An hour,” I say. “At least.”

“Sorry,” he says. “I meant an hour.”

“It can’t be that easy,” I say.

He hands me my phone. “I think you’ll find that money makes most things exceedingly simple. Life is only hard when you can’t afford to pay for things.”

Is he right? If so, that’s a little sad. “Well, I guess I should say thanks.”

“I’m sorry, what?” He turns slightly. “I’m afraid with the noise from the road and the general anger you were just expressing, I couldn’t hear you.”

I chuckle. “Thank you, Leo. You solved my problem, and I’m not worried anymore.”

“You’re so very welcome.”

The next few hours are strange. I use more than twenty thousand dollars of Leonid’s money to find a new home for my horses. The barn owner and trainer of my friend Breanna’s place meets us personally, and I’m forced to go along with Leonid’s insane story that he’s my boyfriend.

“Why yes,” he says like it’s perfectly normal. “The bloodstains on my shirt are from when I punched that stalker. I’m just afraid that even violence and threats might not be enough to keep him away.” He gestures at me. “Look at this stunning creature. What insane person—like that man—could stay away?”

I’m so busy rolling my eyes that I worry they might get stuck up inside my head. But he’s not even done. He insists that we drive to a dealership and buy a brand new truck.

“I can’t have you driving around in this.” He sighs. “To be honest, I wouldn’t pick a truck at all, but. . .”

“I have to be able to pull a trailer,” I say.

He leans closer. “But the best horses don’t need trailers. They can fit in any sports car easily.” He runs his hand downward, clearly talking about himself.

And I’m rolling my eyes again. “As far as I know, my other two horses don’t transform. Based on what you’ve turned into, that’s a real blessing .”

“Hey.” He’s frowning as he hails the salesman who’s walking past. It’s not the salesperson we’ve been working with on the new F250. “Don’t you have sports cars here, too? Show us the nicest one you have.”

The man beams. “That’s definitely the Shelby Cobra. We were lucky to get it. It’s the only one in the state, and it’s a really cool shade of electric blue, with white racing stripes.” This guy has clearly been drooling over this car.

Leo’s mouth curves upward. “We’ll take it.”

“You’ll take it?” The man blinks. “Don’t you want to test drive it?”

Leo shakes his head. “You convinced me when you said it was the only one in the state.”

“Do you even know what that costs?” I hiss. “I don’t need a sports car—I doubt I can afford the insurance. Some of us don’t have diplomatic immunity or an entire country’s tax revenue to support ourselves.”

“That must really stink,” Leonid says. “But now you have me, which is basically the same thing.” He turns to the salesman with a half-smile. “I think the women in our lives don’t even know what they’re missing. It’s our job to show them.” The salesman’s just staring at us, almost like we’re speaking Russian. “Go.” Leonid shoos him. “Get whatever you need to get that car put in my girlfriend’s name.”

The second he’s gone, I can’t help my hiss. “Stop calling me your girlfriend. Have you gone insane? Well, more insane?”

Leo shrugs.

“And are you just trying to make me spend every dime you gave me?” I ask. “Because I’ll give it all back—we don’t have to spend it. And what if my government gets upset and wants me to pay taxes on that money?”

Shoot. Now that I say that, I can see it all unfolding. I’m totally the kind of person who winds up going to jail because of something like this. Diplomatic freaking immunity . Doesn’t help me, does it?

Leonid rolls his eyes, and a moment later, when they bring the final papers for the truck, he insists on logging into some system again to wire money for both vehicles, and he puts them in my name. “See? Now I’m not making you use the money I gave you to compensate you for all this hassle, and for the service you’re doing to the Russian people, keeping me safe.” His grin is irritating.

“No,” I say. “I don’t want any of this.”

He pulls me close. “These expenditures show my people I’m alive and doing fine. It’s sending them an important message, without which they will come looking for me. I’m not ready for that yet, because we haven’t eliminated this connection between us. But maybe you’re ready to announce to the world that you’re my girlfriend—because with a beautiful, young, single woman? That’s the only story anyone else will believe.”

Nope. I definitely don’t want to be surrounded by a hundred overbearing Russians. One’s more than enough. I can only imagine what the media would do with a story like this.

When we finally finish, Leo hands me the keys to the cobra. “You drive this one. I’ll follow you in the truck with the trailer.”

He’s right—we’ll have to take the trailer with us. We certainly can’t leave it here with my old truck.

“I can drive that.”

“I bought the cobra for you.” He presses the key into my hand, and then he leans closer, his mouth right beside my ear. “Just don’t forget to go slowly enough that I can keep up. If you move too far away from me. . .” He snorts, his breath warming my ear. “It would be bad if I totaled your brand new truck.”

I shiver. “But it’s going to be hard to park that truck and trailer in my complex,” I say. “That’s why I always left it at Tim’s. Maybe you should take the cobra so I can find some place to park the trailer.” I can still see him, all focused and careful. The last thing he needs is to try and park my huge trailer in the apartment complex parking lot.

“I’ll be fine.”

“It’s just that, until now, I’ve?—”

“It’s fine,” he says. “I insist. Just make sure I’m keeping up.”

Leonid’s definitely one of those people with whom it’s easier to just agree. Fighting him would be too much work on something like this.

He follows me in the truck to my apartment complex. He wasn’t wrong about the cobra. This little sports car’s a lot of fun to drive, even going the speed limit and making sure that he’s staying close. I’m a little embarrassed as we pull up—I certainly never thought I’d be taking the czar of Russia to see my shabby little apartment. I hover for a moment, but he manages to park the whole thing just fine across five parking spaces on the back row, just in front of the back fence line. Once he’s out and moving toward me, I climb out, too.

My next door neighbor’s on his way out as I pull up. He swears loudly when he sees me climbing out of the shiny, new blue sportscar. He runs his hand along one of the white racing stripes. “Nice, Brooks. I guess being with that old-man boyfriend of yours is finally paying off.”

“Shut up, Brian,” I say.

“She dumped him, anyway,” Leonid says.

“You did?” Brian’s smiling big. “Good. I hated that guy.”

“It seems everyone did,” I say.

“He was a dou—” Brian cuts off as Leonid steps up onto the sidewalk next to me. “Wait, who’s that?”

“I’m Leonid Ivanovich.” He inclines his head half an inch. “But my friends call me Leo.”

“I’m the only one who calls you Leo,” I say.

Leo smiles. “Precisely.”

“You’re—” Brian blinks. “Wait, how long ago did you break up with the old guy? Do you already have a new boyfriend?”

I roll my eyes and step away from Leonid. I say, “no,” at the same time he says, “yes.”

Brian snorts. “Geez. A guy can’t catch a break around here.”

“Nope. A guy sure can’t.” Leonid waves his hand. “Go about your business, Brian. That is, if you have any.” He glares.

Brian wisely pivots and walks off, muttering something I can’t quite make out, but it sounded like ‘guy’s wearing tomato soup on his shirt.’ I can’t get distracted by any of that, though.

“What was that about?” I ask. “You’re not my boyfriend, you know. You can’t keep telling everyone that.”

“Oh, that makes sense. I suppose you’d rather I tell everyone we meet that we’re joined by some kind of magical bond that we can’t explain. In fact, maybe one of the people we tell could help us identify the source of our connection.”

And I’m back to rolling my eyes again. “You’re annoying.”

Another neighbor walks past, eyeing the car as he walks.

“Not as annoying as everyone in this place.” He glares. “How many people live here, exactly?” He lowers his voice. “There appear to be people everywhere.”

“It’s an apartment. They don’t have those in Russia?”

“They do,” he says. “But most of the people work. They wouldn’t all be loitering around.” He scowls at the guy, who runs off.

I grab his arm and drag him along, opting to walk up the three flights of stairs instead of taking the perfectly serviceable elevator. He deserves it. Only, when we reach the top, I’m the only one huffing. Leonid seems perfectly fine.

That just puts me in a bad mood.

“I wish I had a shirt for you,” I say. “But I don’t keep men’s shirts here. I’m going to run and change my clothes.” I wish I had time for a shower. Hooking and unhooking the trailer and moving two horses was a major chore, and I feel like I still smell like a horse. “Then we can go out and find you some new clothes.”

“By all means.” He waves his hand. “Take all the time you need.” He’s walking around my family room, peering at my photos, and I don’t like it. I flip the one of me and Tim face down, and then I turn on the television.

“I’m assuming you want to get caught up on the world, having spent the last few days stuck in a paddock.” I point at the sofa. “Sit. Watch.”

He barely glances at the news. “Sure.”

“I may take a shower,” I say. “I smell like. . .” It feels rude to tell a horse-shifter that I smell like a horse like it’s a bad thing.

“Like a horse?” He’s smiling when he turns toward me. “I probably do, too.”

“Uh, I just have the one shower.”

“I’m fine with sharing if you are.” But he doesn’t actually take any steps toward me. I’m ninety percent sure he’s kidding.

His grin’s pretty mischievous, though.

Eighty percent.

“Look, I really did just dump my boyfriend, and I’m sure you’re just kidding, and you’re the czar of freaking Russia, so I’m not trying to say?—”

“I like you, Isabel Brooks.” He straightens and turns to face me fully. “I know you barely know me, and I know you just broke up with your loser boyfriend, and I would never dream of pushing you into anything, in spite of what we may be telling people to explain our situation.”

I arch one eyebrow.

“At least, I wouldn’t push you very much, anyway.” He smiles.

My heart skips a beat. Maybe two.

“I have flaws, but dishonesty isn’t one of them. When that boy downstairs implied he might want a chance to date you?” He steps toward me. “I wanted to pull his intestines out through his nostrils.”

I blink.

“And when your loser ex tried to grab your arm, had I had my powers, I probably would have done even worse to him.”

I swallow.

“I’m not the devil.” He steps closer. “I destroy villains. It’s all I do, really. But many people believe I’m very, very bad, and I am extremely powerful.” He steps closer again, and he’s only inches away from me, his emerald eyes intent on my face. “And probably because of our bond, or maybe because of your dimples, I think of you as mine. I know you’re not, but I want you to be.” He presses his lips together.

I have no idea what to say to that.

My heart’s pounding so loudly that I can hear it in my ears.

I want to grab him and kiss him and then throw him down on my very soft, very close sofa. But that would be insane .

“I do have a question for you.”

“What?” I have no idea what to do with my hands, so I twist my fingers together in front of my body.

“You could have sold me to that man. You thought I was a horse. You thought I was an unmanageable stallion, and you hadn’t seen that email from Tim yet. You still wanted to help him, very much so.”

“Right.” I twist my fingers even tighter.

“So. . .why didn’t you?” His eyes—they look hopeful.

“I—” I look down at my hands. “I’m not sure.” I wince. “I mean, I didn’t want to falsify the papers. I didn’t want to commit a crime for someone who was already in jail. What if I wound up there myself?”

“You were scared, then? That’s why you didn’t?”

He’s being really honest with me. Painfully honest, even. I might think he’s saying all this because he’s a womanizer, but being realistic, he’s gorgeous, he’s rich, and he’s powerful. He could already have any woman he wants, and being stuck to me isn’t really a justification for trying to sleep with me.

Unless he just does this when he’s bored.

“You don’t have to answer,” he says. “It’s fine if you’d rather not talk about your reasons.”

I force myself to look up. “I didn’t want to sell you. Thinking about it made me anxious. I—” I sigh. “I guess that’s it. The idea of selling you made me feel sick.”

He smiles.

“Maybe it was our connection, or maybe I just liked you. I’m not sure.”

“You saved me a few days ago.” He’s barely speaking above a whisper now.

He’s speaking so softly that I take a step closer so I can hear.

“No one has ever saved me before. I’ve always had to save myself.” He reaches out with one finger and touches the edge of my collarbone, and then he runs his finger gently down it toward the base of my throat. This time, he is whispering. “I know we’re supposed to be breaking this bond between us, but for some reason, I don’t want to.”

I can’t breathe.

Like, I can’t breathe at all.

He lifts his finger, and air rushes into my lungs. It’s like, while he’s touching me, while he’s saying things I have no idea how to process, my body just stops working right. “I—I need to shower.”

“Alone, I’m assuming?” His eyebrows lift just a little, his eyes dancing. “Pity.”

While I run like a scared rabbit back to the bathroom, I hear him laughing in the other room.