Chapter 6
Shanice
My second class ended at one thirty, and my stomach was making embarrassing noises by the time I walked out.
Mikhail was waiting exactly where I'd left him, leaning against the wall like some kind of movie villain. His eyes tracked me the second I appeared, and he pushed off the wall to meet me.
"Good class?" he asked.
"Fine." I adjusted my bag on my shoulder. "Can we go now?"
"After you eat."
I blinked at him. "What?"
"Lunch. You haven't eaten anything except an apple and a bag of chips this morning." He started walking toward the student union. "You need real food."
I stared at his back, then hurried to catch up. "How do you know what I ate this morning?" Better question was how did he know where we were going?
"I pay attention."
"That's creepy."
"That's my job." He held the door open for me, and I caught a whiff of his cologne. Something fresh and aromatic like fresh linen that made my mouth water. "Come on. There's a cafeteria on the second floor."
"I'm not hungry."
My stomach chose that exact moment to growl. Loudly.
Mikhail's mouth twitched. "Right. Not hungry."
I wanted to argue, but he was already heading for the stairs. And honestly, I was starving. The apple had been hours ago, and the chips had barely made a dent.
The cafeteria was busy with the lunch rush. Students clustered around tables, laughing and talking. The smell of pizza and french fries made my stomach clench with need.
Mikhail guided me to the line with a hand at the small of my back. The touch was light, barely there, but it sent heat racing up my spine.
"Get whatever you want," he said.
"I can pay for my own lunch."
"I know you can. But you're not going to."
I opened my mouth to argue, but he was already moving forward in line. Stubborn man.
I grabbed a sandwich and a salad, some fruit, and a bottle of water.
Mikhail piled his tray with enough food to feed three people, including three slices of pizza, tater tots, a fruit bowl, a ham and cheese sandwich, chips, salad, and chocolate chip cookies.
When we got to the register, he paid before I could even pull out my wallet.
"You're impossible," I muttered.
"You keep saying that too."
We found a table near the windows, away from the worst of the crowd. I sat down and unwrapped my sandwich, trying not to think about how domestic this felt. Like we were a couple and this is what we did often.
Nothing about this situation was normal.
Mikhail dug into his food with the kind of focus he brought to everything. I watched him for a moment, then looked away when he glanced up and caught me staring.
"So," I said, desperate for conversation that didn't involve me thinking about his hands.
They were large, neatly manicured nails, and I desperately wanted to know if they were rough or smooth on his palm.
"Do you do this for everyone Olek wants protected?
Follow them around, buy them lunch, hover like an overprotective shadow? "
"No."
"Then why me?"
He set down his fork, studying me with those dark eyes. "You really want to know? Though I thought that I explained it."
Yes. No. Maybe. "Sure."
"Because you're under my skin, Shanice, and I don't know what to do about it." He said it so calmly, like he was commenting on the weather. My heart slammed against my ribs. "Because the thought of something happening to you makes me violent."
"Mikhail." I exhaled, unsure if I’d been breathing before.
"You asked." He picked up his fork again, went back to eating like he hadn't just turned my world upside down.
I stared at my sandwich, my appetite suddenly gone. Or maybe not gone, just redirected toward something I definitely shouldn't want.
"I don't know what you expect me to say," I said quietly.
"Nothing. I'm not asking for anything." He took a drink of water. "I'm just being honest."
"Well, stop it. Your honesty is confusing."
"How so?"
"Because I'm supposed to be annoyed with you. You're controlling and bossy and you won't give me space. But then you say things like that and I don't know how to feel."
His eyes darkened. "How do you feel?"
Like I want you to kiss me. Like I want to know what those hands would feel like on my skin. Like I'm losing my mind.
"Confused," I said instead. "And hungry. So let me eat in peace."
I took a bite of my sandwich, forcing myself to chew and swallow. Mikhail watched me for a moment longer, then went back to his own food.
We ate in silence. It should've been awkward, but it wasn't. It was almost comfortable, in a weird way. Like we'd done this a hundred times before.
"You're good at this," I said after a while.
"At what?"
"Making me feel safe." The admission surprised me, but it was true. Despite everything, despite the hovering and the bossiness, I did feel safe with Mikhail. "I haven't felt safe in a long time. Not since before the kidnapping. But when you're around, it's like I can breathe again."
Something shifted in his expression. Softened. "Good. That's all I want."
"Is it?"
The question hung between us. Mikhail's jaw tightened, and I saw the war happening behind his eyes. The struggle between what he wanted and what he thought he should say.
"No," he said finally. "It's not all I want. But it's all I'm going to ask for right now."
My stomach flipped. "And later?"
"Later, I'm going to ask for a lot more." His voice dropped, rough and low. "But you're not ready for that yet."
"How do you know what I'm ready for?"
"Because you're still healing. Still finding your feet. And I'm not going to push you before you're ready." He leaned back in his chair, eyes locked on mine. "But when you are ready, Shanice, I'm going to make my intentions very clear."
Heat flooded my body. I wanted to ask what those intentions were. Wanted to know exactly what he was thinking, what he wanted to do to me.
But part of me was afraid of the answer. Afraid of how much I wanted it too.
"Finish your lunch," Mikhail said, his voice gentler now. "You need the energy."
I picked up my fork with shaking hands. Took another bite of my salad. Tried to focus on anything except the man sitting across from me and the promises burning in his eyes.
Mikhail was dangerous. But God help me, I was starting to think I liked it.
We finished eating and headed back to the SUV. The drive home was quiet again, but charged with something I couldn't name. Every time I glanced at Mikhail, I found him already looking at me.
When we pulled up to the mansion, I grabbed my bag and reached for the door handle.
"Shanice."
I paused, looking back at him.
"You did good today," he said. "Going back to school. Facing it. I'm proud of you."
The words hit me square in the chest. No one had said that to me in so long. No one had looked at me like I was strong, like I was capable, like I mattered.
"Thank you," I whispered.
He nodded, and I got out before I did something stupid. Like cry. Or climb back in the SUV and ask him to keep talking to me in that rough, gentle voice.
I walked into the mansion and headed straight for my room. Closed the door and leaned against it with my heart racing.
This was a problem.
A big one. Because I was to keep my crush on Mikhail to myself. His confession made that impossible. Because I wanted him and now I knew he wanted me, too.
And I had no idea what to do about it.