Preston
"Did you sleep well?" I ask, settling onto a stool as Vadim opens the fridge and starts pulling ingredients out.
"I did."
"I'm glad." I stretch out my spine, a few pops filling the air. "I barely moved."
"I know."
Vadim fixes me with a look then grabs a cutting board and starts laying out slices of bread.
"What sandwiches are we having this morning?"
"Ham, cheese, and tomato."
"Is that Polish?"
He looks up from buttering the bread. "Nope."
Okay, maybe I'm imagining it, but Vadim seems a little off this morning, like he's gone back into his shell. "Is everything okay?"
He stops slicing a tomato, and I can see his shoulders rise as he inhales. He avoids looking at me as he answers. "Yeah, fine."
Could've fooled me.
I push off the stool and make my way over to him.
"I don't believe you." I swallow. "Is it because of what we did last night?"
The massage took a turn, and as much as I enjoyed where it led to, I'm aware that I contradicted myself. It started with me asserting there'd be no funny business, and it ended with Vadim putting on a solo sex show for me.
Then we slept together, where, to his credit, apart from the occasional involuntary poke to my lower back, Vadim stuck to his word and was a true gentleman.
"It has nothing to do with last night," he says, a harsh clip in his tone. "I enjoyed it very much. All of it." He huffs out a shallow breath. "It's just that you're leaving today, and we have things we need to discuss."
"Like what?"
"Like your security arrangements."
I sigh. "Vadim, come on. I don't need security arrangements."
"Yes. You do." His voice takes on an insistent edge that starts to grate on me.
"Look, I appreciate your concern. Really, I do.
But my boss, Tripp, has been in touch. He's added extra security measures to the spa, and from now on, all staff will undertake mandatory self-defense training.
Plus, I've got my trusty Mace. And as an extra backup, not that I'll be needing it, I have a sexy Eastern European guy I know who can handle shit for me if things ever get out of hand again. Which they won't," I hasten to add.
"Preston." Vadim's jaw ticks. "This isn't funny."
He isn't playing around. His lips are pursed, and his eyes have gone heavy and dark, a storm gathering behind them.
"Okay, I'm sorry. I don't mean to make light of it. I'm just saying I'll be fine. You have nothing to worry about."
He grumbles something under his breath in a language I don't understand then resumes making breakfast.
"What time would you like to leave?"
His question irritates me. We haven't resolved the issue, and he's already moving on to something else. Unless he just wants to see the back of me.
Maybe that's what's really going on here? Maybe I've outstayed my welcome.
"Ellie gets back at eleven, so I'll get an Uber from here at nine. That'll give me enough time to make him some lunch."
"I'm driving you."
"Thank you. But I'm fine to get my own ride."
Two can play at being distant.
He licks a dollop of mayo off his finger and hands me my plate. "It's not up for discussion."
I scoff. "Excuse me?"
"I'm driving you," he reiterates calmly, like he's saying it again because I didn't actually hear him as opposed to the real reason, which is my shock at his presumptuousness.
He hands me my plate then takes a seat at the island and opens his laptop.
"While we eat, I'd like to go through a few things with you. "
I deliberately don't take the stool right next to him and sit down. "Like what?"
"Security measures."
I take a massive bite of my sandwich to avoid getting into it. I'll do him the courtesy of hearing him out in full, and then I'll tell him how things are actually going to be.
I appreciate his concern, I genuinely do, but no one dictates the terms of my life for me. Not my parents. Not Ellie. Not Vadim.
"I've had cameras installed outside your house and on your street…"
What?! I force some more of the sandwich into my mouth as a jolt of heat surges in my chest.
"…There's going to be someone outside your place, on the street, at all times. Rotating shifts so it doesn't look obvious. You won't even know that they're there."
I chew furiously, my anger growing with every bite.
"Your client bookings at both the clinic where you're doing your placement hours and the spa are being vetted before they're confirmed. I want you on Signal. Only Signal when you're contacting me. And you don't walk home alone at night anymore. I'll be picking you up."
I've finished my sandwich, and my mind is furiously organizing my thoughts on how best to push back on all of this.
Vadim has crossed a line.
Several lines.
He's gone way overboard.
"I know you probably don't like this and are going to push back on all of it," he says, angling his body toward me, clasping his hands between his legs. "But I'm doing it anyway. Thanks for hearing me out. Go ahead, let me have it."
I'm so mad I can't even gather my thoughts. Where do I begin? Before I spew something out about how he had no right to do any of this without checking with me first, I stop, take a breath, and look at him.
Properly look at him.
Some of my anger deflates as I take in the crease between his brows, the careful steadiness in his eyes, his left shoulder riding higher than the other.
Yes, he's overstepping, which I don't like one bit. But why is he doing it? It doesn't feel like it's out of dominance or to control me. I get the sense it's more out of worry and protectiveness…bundled up in a blanket of total overreaction. I hate the execution, but I can't fault his intentions.
My eyes drift to his raised shoulder again, and I tip my chin forward. "What's wrong with your shoulder?"
"Nothing."
His dismissal comes a little too quickly for my liking. I get to my feet and move behind him, my fingers coming to rest on his shoulder blades. "Nothing my ass. This one is so much tighter than the other."
Before he can protest, or feed me another lie, I start massaging him. He drops his head, releasing short, rapid bursts of air as I knead the muscle and work out the tension.
I'm so confused I don't know what to think.
He's acting differently this morning. Despite saying he doesn't regret what we did last night, his behavior suggests otherwise. It's like he's snapped back into the cold, distant guy I met at The Butterfly Lounge.
Is that who he really is, or is the guy I've gotten to know the past few days while living with him the real Vadim?
Or maybe he's simply gone into protector mode and is serious about keeping me safe out of a sense of guilt and obligation?
Or am I overthinking this whole thing, and it's actually something else entirely?
Wherever the truth actually lies, it doesn't sit right with me that he's made all these security arrangements without consulting me first. That's what bugs me the most. Being told instead of being asked. No matter if his heart is in the right place.
But it's a little hard to yell at someone when they're melting under your touch.
His shoulder is really tight, and I wonder if it has anything to do with the way we slept.
I'm a deep sleeper and don't move around a lot.
That's why when I wake up, I normally do a ten-minute stretch routine to work out the stiffness that's settled into my joints overnight.
A handy life hack I picked up from my studies that has made a real difference since I started doing it.
I decide to say nothing. I don't want to spend the last bit of time we have together fighting.
I'll let him drop me off at my place if it appeases him, and I'll talk to Ellie about all of Vadim's over-the-top security measures.
He'll be more than happy to play bad cop on my behalf and fight Vadim like hell if need be.
It's a dodge, that's for sure, but let's be real. This is probably my last chance to experience anything remotely resembling a relationship.
Can't I just enjoy it while it lasts?