Chapter 3 #2
“So am I. He’s wonderful.” A dreamy look came over his face, and his smile turned soft.
Tendrils of jealousy wove through me, and I had to look away from the pure happiness radiating from him. The feeling was involuntary. I was happy for him, dammit.
Seeing Hargrove with his partner was what had done it—made me envious of a couple who were enough for each other. A couple who still looked at each other with so much love and spark.
Brad and I had lost our spark. And it wasn’t just the sleeping with other people thing. I’d been down for that, but over time, we’d started to rely on that a little too much without finding time to nurture the intimacy between us. Before I knew it, the closeness we once had was almost gone.
We slowed along the corridor until we stopped altogether. He placed a hand on my shoulder and leaned closer. “Do you think a candlelit dinner is too cliché?”
“I think classic is more like it. That’s never out of style.”
“I’d do something fancier, but Hao likes quiet things. Something about the rush of his day so when we’re finally together, he enjoys our time away from other people.”
God, that sounded good.
“Seems like you know Hao very well. I’m…happy for you, Hargrove.”
Yet tears filled my eyes. Shit. Now was not the time to be thinking about the way Brad had proposed to me. The candlelit hotel room and the custom-made bear with the “Will You Marry Me” stitching on its little shirt.
“Dammit, Cavanagh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to prattle on about Hao when—”
“It’s fine. Sometimes I remember things, and yeah, I get teary, but see? Healthy grieving, not repressing at all. I really hope things work out for you and Hao.”
“But still I shouldn’t—” He stared over my shoulder, frowning. “You know that guy?”
“What guy?”
“The one who’s been staring at us for the last two minutes.”
A chill slid down my spine, and I reluctantly followed his gaze down the corridor, not surprised at all to find him standing near the vending machines.
Fucking Sergei.
He gulped down a can of Mountain Dew, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He made no attempt at all to hide that he was staring at us.
Did he truly think he was untouchable? Was that the reason he no longer even tried to hide that he was stalking me?
“Yes,” I said tightly. “Unfortunately I do.”
Hargrove glanced between us. “Umm, the way he’s looking at you is unnerving. Is he a danger to you? I can get security to escort him out.”
“Don’t worry about it. He’s an…acquaintance and harmless. I’ll go talk to him.”
“Harmless” was hardly the right word to describe Sergei.
The man was built like a fucking battle tank. If he were a Transformer, that would have been his machine form—one of those matte-black monstrosities that rolled over everything in its path, grinding it into dust without even slowing down.
That was the feeling I had whenever I saw him.
Not that he would attack me immediately, but that he was simply…waiting. Biding his time until the moment came to crush me beneath those massive combat boots he insisted on wearing like he was permanently deployed in some private war.
His hair was an inky black, the strands gleaming under the fluorescent hospital lights when he moved. It was the only thing about him that looked soft in the slightest, but even that impression didn’t last long when you took in the rest of him.
He wasn’t classically handsome. His features were too severe for that.
His jaw looked carved out of stone, his cheekbones sharp, his mouth set in a line that suggested smiling was an activity he rarely indulged in.
Black cargo pants hugged his thick, muscular thighs, and the plain dark-blue T-shirt he wore stretched across a chest so broad it looked like it had been engineered purposely for combat.
The fabric clung to the well-defined shape of his pectorals, and a deep exhale of air might rip the shirt open.
He had to be a gym rat to have such a physique.
And yet he somehow finds the time to stalk me.
At six feet, I was considered tall, but he was several inches above me.
He had one of those mean faces that couldn’t be friendly even if he smiled, although I’d never seen that from him before.
His default was the passive expression he wore now.
The only other facial cue he gave was a narrowing of his brows that let me know when he was displeased about something.
“Alright then. I’ll send you a reminder about your appointment tomorrow.” Hargrove squeezed my shoulder once and walked away. I waited until he disappeared around the corner before striding down the hall.
Sergei didn’t move but kept his eyes on me, watching my every step until I was upon him, eyes flashing and breath hissing.
“Have you completely lost your mind?” I demanded in a whisper. “What are you doing here?”
He knitted his brow as he scanned my face, and his nostrils flared slightly. “You look like shit. You haven’t been sleeping well.”
“Maybe it’s because of this asshole who thinks he’s being discreet while constantly watching my home.”
His expression remained maddeningly calm. “With me there, you should feel safe enough to sleep.”
My eyes bugged out of my head, and my jaw fell loose. I had to scan his face to see if he’d found his funny bone, but he was serious.
“Why would I feel safe around a man who’s one order away from killing me?”
“Is that what you’re worried about?” The pinch between his brows deepened. “Because that was before.”
“Geez, what now? Should I prostrate myself at your feet to show my gratitude that you’ve decided to spare my life?”
Sergei’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. His gaze dropped to my chin—or was it my mouth—then his eyes skittered away. Color bloomed into his cheeks, and his next inhale was sharp enough for me to hear.
Was he…blushing? I blinked, certain my eyes were deceiving me, but nope. If anything, his cheeks were redder.
“This isn’t the place to discuss this,” he said, dropping his voice. “Just…know that I’m not here to harm you.”
“Then why are you here?”
“You didn’t eat breakfast. I brought you lunch.”
He’d brought me lunch? Coffee was one thing, but this was madness. I stared at him for a long time, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Why he looked suddenly shy and why he seemed so fascinated by the plain hospital tiles.
Realization dawned on me, and I let out a low laugh. “Coffee and lunch can’t atone for what you’ve done, so if you’re doing this with the hope that your conscience will be free, think again. I hope you live a long, tortured life haunted by the memory of every victim you helped to hurt.”
He straightened up then, and the deceptive slip in his character disappeared.
“And that is fine. If you want to live long enough to see me tortured, then you better eat and get enough rest, doc. You keep working like this, you’ll be joining your husband sooner or later, and it won’t be because of me. ”
“How dare you?” My palm flew toward his face before I had a second to think.
He didn’t move, didn’t blink, didn’t grunt, didn’t react at all as my hand connected with his cheek.
My chest rose and fell, and a ringing sound filled my ears.
Slowly, the hushed sounds pierced through the fog, and I was aware of the people staring at us—people I worked with.
Damn him for provoking me to cause a scene in my workplace.
“If that makes you feel better, you can slap me again,” Sergei said, his voice so soft I wasn’t even certain I heard right.
My jaw tightened. “Stay away from me. Stop coming to my hospital. Stop following me. Stop inserting yourself into my life like this means something. If you want to atone for what you did so badly, you should be doing so at my husband’s grave.
Maybe fresh flowers every day for the rest of your life might let his ghost rest in peace, but I wouldn’t count on it. ”