Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
THORA
I swear, I wasn’t going to.
But by the next afternoon, I’m done pretending I can ignore what he did, and if that man looks me in the eye and tries to pretend it wasn’t him, I might shoot him.
Maybe driving to Anton’s house is a terrible idea. It’s impulsive and exactly the kind of thing Blair would tell me not to do if I was stupid enough to mention it to her, but I have to look him in the face and ask him why. Especially after what he said about me to his brother.
When I pull up to the security gate, my hands are clammy and my nerves are shot. Two guards stand near the entrance, both of them turning as my car rolls to a stop. The second the taller one recognizes me, his shoulders drop.
“You again.”
I roll down the window, a nervous laugh slipping out as his harsh expression gives me a once-over. “Sorry. No cookies this time.”
His mouth twitches. “That is most unfortunate.”
“I’ll owe you one.”
“Mm-hmm. What do you want?”
“I really need to speak to Anton. It’s an emergency.”
They don’t have to know I’m lying, though one could argue this is absolutely an emergent situation.
“He’s not here.”
“Oh.” My grasp constricts around the steering wheel. “Do you know where he is?”
The guard studies me, his faint amusement fading. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just really need to talk to him.”
Behind him, the other guard mutters something in Russian, and even though I don’t understand the words, I understand the warning in his tone well enough.
He’s telling him not to tell me anything.
The taller one answers in Russian, and whatever he says makes the other man’s brow lift before they both start laughing.
I stare between them. “What’s so funny?”
The taller guard chuckles dryly. “He says I should not tell you where boss is because Anton will kill me for sure this time.”
“I’ll put in a good word for you.”
“He is nicer when you are around.”
Geez. What is he like when I’m not here?
“Please,” I say. “Where is he?”
The taller guard sighs. “A bar called Krystal. About eight miles from here. If anyone asks, you found him on your own.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
My grin widens as I pull away from the gate, relief hitting me for about three seconds before the nerves swallow it whole.
The entire drive to the bar, I rehearse what I’m going to say, but every version sounds wrong or pathetic.
Crap. Why am I even doing this? We are never going to work anyway. My parents wouldn’t accept him even if things were going great between us.
Still, I pull into the parking lot with my stomach in knots, and the second I spot his car not far from where I’ve parked, every word I practiced disappears.
Just as I start toward the entrance, Anton walks out in a long-sleeved white button-down and black trousers wrapped around his sculpted body.
As soon as his head turns, his eyes clasp on to mine. “What are you doing here?”
He has the balls to sound irritated with me.
I stalk toward him and stop right in front of him, one hand planted on my hip. “Did you blow up Brayden’s car?”
The slightest pull touches his mouth, satisfaction flashing across his face. “You get right to the point, don’t you, printsessa?”
“Don’t printsessa me.” My heart pounds harder as he closes the distance, anger and desire colliding in a dangerous mix. “Did you do it?”
He glances over his shoulder toward the door, then back to me. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Did you blow up his fucking car?” Adrenaline rolls through me in waves.
When he doesn’t answer and that annoying smirk returns, my eyes expand.
“Oh my God. You did. You actually did. I knew it.”
“He wasn’t in it. This time.”
“Wow, you’re so generous.”
“You know I could’ve done worse.” He steps toward me, his knuckles dragging down my cheek, eyes heavy-lidded.
“Anton.” His name barely makes it past my lips. “Don’t…”
Don’t stop. Don’t pull me back into the trap you set for me.
“I can’t stop.” His arm bands around my lower back, pinning me against him.
“Why did you do it?” I tip my face up to his.
“He wanted to take you out.”
How the hell does he know that?
“And? We’re over, remember?”
“You made sure of that.”
“Apparently not well enough.” A painful throb climbs up my throat, because I want him so badly it hurts. “You can’t do this.”
I try to push him away, but he doesn’t budge, only holds me tighter.
“You made things between us clear, so don’t you dare pretend you give a shit now.”
“What are you talking about?” Confusion snaps through his features.
“Oh, we’re going to play clueless now?” Shoving his hands off of me, I step away. “I heard you that day after the meeting, what you said to your brother.”
His mouth flattens as he takes one slow step toward me, his arm curling around me again. “What did you hear?”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Enough.”
His gaze drags over my face, and I wish I could hide from it because he has no right to look at me like that. Like he cares.
“You said I was nothing,” I snap, the words spilling out as I push away from him, needing to escape his touch, the way he gazes at me.
“You said you fucked me, liked it, might do it again, but that I meant absolutely nothing.” Another dry laugh slips out, but it does nothing to hide the pain. “That all I am is a distraction.”
His entire body goes still. The anger in me wavers because, since I got here, this is the first time I’ve seen my words actually wound him.
Good. I hope it hurts.
“That was not for you to hear.”
“Oh, well, that makes it so much better.” I roll my eyes.
His hand closes around mine. “Come here.”
“No.”
He drags me anyway, guiding me around to the side of the building, away from the front entrance. The second we’re out of sight, he turns and pins me against the wall, his palms braced on either side of me, his body close enough to scatter every thought in my head.
“Do not run from me.”
I stare up at him, furious that my pulse jumps at the deep rasp of his voice. “Then stop giving me reasons to.”
His eyes search mine, intense and probing, and I hate how fast my anger burns into desire.
“I meant every word I said.” His palm cups my cheek, his mouth lowering toward mine, and the hurt comes roaring back.
I shove at him. “Get off me.”
He catches my wrist and pins it to the wall. “Not the words you heard, Thora.”
“Then what words?” I hold his bicep, feeling it tense beneath my palm.
“The ones I said to you before.” His lips hover near mine, so close I feel every word against mine. “That you’re all I think about. All I want. That I can’t get you out of my head.”
My heart stumbles. I hate that he can say one thing and make all the hurt inside me turn desperate for more.
More of this. More of us.
“You don’t get to do that,” I breathe.
“I know.”
“You humiliated me in front of your brother.”
“I know.”
“You hurt me.”
His mouth brushes the corner of mine.
“I’m sorry.” His voice grows thick with sincerity in a way I haven’t heard before, and my heart only melts more.
His lips return to the same spot, and tears gather in my eyes as every cell in my body sparks back to life. I can’t move or speak. All I can do is fist his shirt and pull him to me until there’s nothing left.
“You need to stay away from me,” he says, words rough against my skin. “For your own good. Because I’m too weak to stay away from you.”
A shaky chuckle slips out of me. “Then maybe stop blowing up my dates’ cars.”
He groans against my neck. “I’ll work on it.”
“Work harder.”
His body presses into mine until the hard swell of his cock pushes against my stomach. I fist his hair as my hips roll into him, wanting him to finger-fuck me to oblivion and then maybe turn me around and fuck me right here.
I don’t care who sees us. I just want him.
He grabs my hip, fingers sliding beneath the waistband of my jeans, and my head falls back against the wall as he starts to work the button open.
Then a car moves at the edge of my vision, a black sedan rolling past us a little too slowly with the window lowered enough for me to catch the man behind the wheel. A ski mask covers his face, but his eyes are locked on us.
On Anton…I think.
My stomach drops as his arm lifts, and the dark shape of a gun appears in his hand.
“Anton!” I scream, shoving him as hard as I can just as his vision snaps in the same direction.
But the muffled pop of the gunshot cuts through the air before either of us can move far enough. For one horrible second, everything goes silent. Then blood blooms across Anton’s white shirt, and a scream tears out of me.
“Oh my God!”