CHAPTER 17 #2
My face lights up instantly. "You speak Russian?! Oh my God! Such a small world!"
"Wait, you're Russian?" Tessa perks up, her previous annoyance forgotten. "This is amazing!"
He chuckles, though his eyes keep drifting back to Tessa. "Yeah, I've been in America for a long time, but hearing Russian again feels like home."
We start chatting in Russian. I ask what he does, and he says he is freelancing, currently working on a photography job in remote forest areas.
I grin. "I'm a freelance lawyer. Mostly off the books. Small world again."
"So we're both freelancers," he says with a wink.
"I work for an NGO," Tessa jumps in, eager to participate. "We just won a huge case, actually."
"Congratulations!" Roman says warmly, his gaze lingering on her just a second too long.
Tessa catches it and gives him another mean mug. "Stop staring."
He looks away quickly, clearing his throat, but the tension is light, almost playful. That is until Ilay decides he has had enough.
"Can we go to our rooms now?" he cuts in. I ignore him. "You can go ahead. I'm still talking."
"We're done here." He grabs my arm firmly, pulling me toward the stairs where our bags are already waiting. "Let go, Ilay," I snap, twisting my arm in his grasp. "Let go!"
Tessa’s smile drops instantly. "Hey, hands off."
But he doesn't stop. He marches me up the stairs, not releasing me until we are inside his room and the door clicks shut, the lock turning with a final thud.
My arm throbs where his fingers dug in, and I yank it back, rubbing the spot while shooting him a look. "What the hell is wrong with you?" I snap, my voice rising. "Seriously, Ilay, what is this? You drag me in here like some unhinged kidnapper and expect me to what? Sit and behave?"
He stands a few feet away, stiff as a board, his jaw clenched so tight I swear I can hear his teeth grinding. "I don't like the way he looks at you."
I let out a sharp laugh. "Oh my God. You are so fucking childish. You see me talk to a guy, once, and your whole brain short circuits? We're not even dating. Can you imagine the hell I'd live in if I actually said yes to you?"
"Just don't talk to that guy. I don't trust him."
"You don't trust anyone," I hiss, shaking my head. "That's your problem. That's always been your problem."
I turn toward the door and grab the handle. "Get out of the way. I'm going to my room."
He moves before I can even take a step, his massive frame blocking the exit.
"Why do you even want to stay in another room?" he asks, and I can hear the dangerous edge creeping into his voice. "I can protect you."
"Protect me?" I blink at him. "It's a hotel, Ilay. An inn. What do you think is going to happen here?"
"There's a window in your room," he points out, his eyes dark. "there’s no cameras, and you’re going to be all alone." I stare at him, exasperated. "That's called privacy."
I try to push past him again. "If someone is going to come after me, you hovering around won't stop it. You'd probably just escalate it like you always do." He doesn't answer. "Let me go, Ilay." My voice drops, the anger bleeding into exhaustion. I am tired. I don't want to fight anymore.
He hesitates, searching my face. Then, finally, he steps aside.
I don't look at him again as I leave, slamming the door behind me for emphasis. I march straight to my room, to find Tessa unpacking. "You okay?" she asks, looking up from her suitcase.
"Yeah," I lie smoothly. "Just… Ilay being Ilay." She nods knowingly. "Want to stay up tonight?"
I offer a small smile. "Actually, yeah. That'd be nice."
"Good," she says, flopping onto the bed. "Because that ginger guy keeps staring at me and it's creeping me out." I laugh softly. "Roman? He seems harmless."
"They all seem harmless until they're not," she mutters. Once we settle in, I curl up with my laptop to review the file for tomorrow. But a little while later, a sound pulls me from my focus.
Footsteps. Then a soft thump.
I freeze.
Slowly, I walk to the door and pull it open. The hallway is empty and quiet, and I almost roll my eyes at my own paranoia—until I look down.
There he is. Ilay. Crouched by my door like a damn guard dog.
I sigh so hard it shakes my soul. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Keeping watch," he says simply, not even looking embarrassed.
"There's a window in my room, you know," I remind him. "If someone wants to get in, they can come through that. Your neck-snapping vigil out here won't stop them."
"Exactly," he counters smoothly. "More reason you should let me stay the night."
I scoff. "In your dreams."
I shut the door in his face. But I stand there for a second, my forehead resting against the cool wood. I hate that, despite everything, I still feel a pang of guilt.
With a groan, I grab a mini pillow and the extra blanket from the closet and open the door again.
"Here," I say, thrusting them at him. "Just because you're a creep doesn't mean I want you to be a dead creep from hypothermia. Huddle up. See you tomorrow."
I shut the door again before he can respond.
Tessa looks up from her phone, an eyebrow raised. "Did you just give the stalker a blanket?"
"Shut up," I mutter, climbing into bed and pulling the covers over my head.
She laughs. "You're so gone for him."
"I hate you."
"Love you too, babe."