Chapter 7
Shanice
Iwas in my room, changing into something nicer for dinner, when Katrina knocked on my door.
"Come in," I called, pulling a dress over my head.
She poked her head in, one hand resting on the small but visible bump at her belly. Three months pregnant and glowing, even though she looked a little pale right now.
"You almost ready?" she asked.
"Almost. Are you sure you're feeling up to this?" I smoothed down the fabric, studying her in the mirror. "You look kind of green."
"I'm fine. Just a little morning sickness. Which is a lie, by the way, because it happens at all hours." She moved into the room, settling onto my bed with a sigh. "But I'm not missing your first day of college celebration. I already convinced Olek and Mikhail to take us somewhere nice."
My stomach fluttered at the mention of Mikhail's name. I'd been trying not to think about lunch, about the way he'd looked at me, about the things he'd said.
"You didn't have to do that," I said.
"Yes, I did. I’m so proud of you, Shanice. You’re taking steps in a future you’re creating for yourself. That's huge. We're celebrating." She grinned. "Plus, I want steak. This baby is demanding red meat."
I laughed, zipping up my dress. "Well, if the baby wants steak."
We headed downstairs together. Olek and Mikhail were waiting in the foyer, both dressed in button downs and dark jeans. Mikhail's eyes found me immediately, sweeping over my dress in a way that made heat crawl up my neck.
"Ready?" Olek asked, pressing a kiss to Katrina's temple.
"Ready," she said.
We walked out to the SUV. Mikhail held the door open, and I slid into the back seat.
His eyes seemed to be undressing me as he stared.
I openly returned the gesture, not afraid to let him know that I thought he looked good as well.
Katrina started to follow, but stopped suddenly, her hand flying to her mouth.
"Kat?" Olek's voice sharpened with concern.
She shook her head, backing away from the car. "I just need a second." Katrina's face went from pale to green. "Oh God."
She bolted toward the bushes at the side of the driveway. Olek was right behind her, gathering her hair back as she got sick. I winced, guilt settling in my stomach. This was supposed to be a nice dinner, and now Katrina was puking in the bushes because of pregnancy hormones.
Mikhail watched his boss tend to his wife with careful eyes. After a few minutes, Katrina emerged, Olek's arm around her waist. She looked miserable.
"I'm so sorry," she said, pressing a hand to her forehead. "I thought I could push through it, but a smell just hit me wrong."
"You're going inside," Olek said firmly. "You need to rest."
"But Shanice's dinner—"
"Will still happen." Olek looked at Mikhail. "You'll still take her?"
Mikhail nodded without hesitation. "Of course."
"No, it's fine," I said quickly, already reaching for the door handle. "We can reschedule. Katrina should rest."
Katrina grabbed my hand through the open door. "Don't you dare. You deserve this celebration. And I'll make it up to you, I promise. Girls' day next weekend, just us."
"But—"
"Shanice." She squeezed my hand. "Go. Have fun. Eat something amazing for me since I apparently can't keep anything down right now."
Olek guided her toward the house, and I watched them go, uncertainty churning in my gut.
"We don't have to do this," I said to Mikhail.
He was already sliding into the driver's seat. "Yes, we do."
"Mikhail—"
"You look too good not to go out." He started the engine, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. "And you deserve to celebrate. First day at school, and you killed it."
"I sat through two classes."
"And you didn't let fear keep you home. That's worth celebrating." He pulled out of the driveway. "Besides, I know the perfect spot."
I settled back into my seat, trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach that had nothing to do with hunger. "Where are we going?"
"You'll see."
Twenty minutes later, we pulled up to a restaurant right on the water. The sign read Captain's Catch in worn blue letters, and through the windows I could see exposed brick, warm lighting, and a beautiful view of the harbor.
"Seafood," I said, unable to keep the excitement out of my voice.
Mikhail glanced back at me, something soft in his expression. "Your favorite, right?"
"How did you know that?"
"I pay attention." He got out and opened my door, offering his hand.
I was beginning to think that he paid too much damn attention.
I took his hand, letting him help me out. His palm was warm and rough against mine, and he didn't let go immediately. Yeah, I now had an idea of what his hands would feel like on other parts of me.
"Come on," he said. "Let's get you fed." He gave me his arm, and I took it, linking ours together. It felt right with him leading the way, and when we got to the door, he opened it.
I missed the warmth of his body immediately, but continued inside anyway. The hostess seated us at a table by the window overlooking the water. The sun was setting, painting everything in shades of orange and pink. It was beautiful.
"This place is amazing," I said, looking around. "How did you find it?"
"I have my ways." Mikhail opened his menu. "Order whatever you want. And I mean whatever. Don't even look at the prices."
"Mikhail, this place is expensive.” I could tell from the ambiance. I didn’t even want to guess how much anything was in here.
"I don't care. You're celebrating. So celebrate." He met my eyes over the top of his menu. "Please."
The please got me. I nodded and opened my own menu, my mouth watering at the options. Lobster rolls, crab cakes, grilled salmon, shrimp scampi, clam chowder.
When the waiter came, I ordered the seafood platter, which came with a little bit of everything. Mikhail ordered the same, plus an appetizer of calamari and two additional sides.
"You're going to explode," I said.
"I need the fuel. Following you around all day is exhausting."
"I'm not that difficult."
"You walked up four flights of stairs today instead of taking the elevator."
"The elevator was crowded."
"The stairs were on the opposite side of the building from your class." He leaned back in his chair, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. "You did it on purpose."
I bit back a grin. "Maybe I wanted to see if you'd follow."
"I told you. Wherever you go, I go."
"Even up four flights of stairs?"
"Even up four flights of stairs."
The waiter brought our calamari, and I popped one in my mouth. It was perfectly crispy and seasoned, and I couldn't hold back a small moan of appreciation.
Mikhail's eyes darkened. "Good?"
"So good." I grabbed another piece. "Okay, you win. This was a good idea."
"I have those sometimes."
We fell into easy conversation, talking about everything and nothing. He asked about my classes, and I told him about the professors, the syllabi, the other students. He listened like every word mattered, asking follow up questions, actually engaging.
"What about you?" I asked. "Did you go to college?"
He shook his head. "Military first. Then this."
"Do you ever wish you'd done something different?"
He considered that. "Sometimes. But this life chose me as much as I chose it. And I'm good at what I do."
"Scaring people and looking intimidating?"
"Protecting what matters." His eyes found mine. "Keeping people safe."
Heat crawled up my neck. I grabbed my water glass, taking a long drink.
The food arrived, and my eyes widened at the spread. Lobster, crab legs, shrimp, scallops, clams, all beautifully presented with garlic butter and lemon wedges.
"Oh my God," I breathed.
"Dig in."
I did. And it was incredible. Every bite was perfect, and I couldn't remember the last time I'd enjoyed a meal this much. Mikhail watched me with obvious satisfaction, occasionally stealing bites from my plate when I wasn't looking.
"Hey," I said, swatting his fork away. "Get your own."
"I did. Yours looks better."
"Because I have better taste."
"Can't argue with that."
We ate and talked, and somewhere between the crab legs and the lobster tail, I realized I was having fun. Actual, genuine fun. The kind I hadn't had in months.
Mikhail cracked open a crab leg and extracted the meat with practiced efficiency. "So tell me something."
"Like what?"
"Something I don't know about you."
I thought about that, twirling my fork. "I wanted to be a marine biologist when I was a kid."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. I was obsessed with dolphins. Had posters all over my room, watched every documentary I could find." I smiled at the memory. "My mom used to joke that I'd end up living in the ocean."
"What changed?"
"Reality, I guess. I realized I got seasick easily and that marine biology programs were competitive and expensive. So I switched to psychology." I shrugged. "Less glamorous, but more practical."
"You ever regret it?"
"Sometimes. But I like psychology too. Understanding people, why they do what they do. It's fascinating."
"Then analyze me." He leaned forward. "What do you see?"
I studied him, really looked at him. The hard lines of his face, the scars I could see peeking out from his collar, the intensity in his eyes that never quite went away.
"I see someone who's been through things he doesn't talk about," I said slowly. "Someone who's built walls to keep people out. But underneath all that, you're loyal. Protective. You care more than you want to admit."
Something flickered in his expression. "Anything else?"
"You're dangerous. But not to me. Never to me."
The air between us went electric. Mikhail's hand moved across the table, his fingers brushing mine.
"You're right," he said quietly. "I'd never hurt you, Shanice. I'd conquer the world before I let anyone touch you."
My breath caught. "That's intense."
"I'm an intense person."
"I've noticed."
He smiled, and it transformed his whole face. Made him look younger, less severe. "Your turn. What do you see when you look at yourself?"
I pulled my hand back, suddenly uncomfortable. "That's not fair."
"Why not?"
"Because I asked you first."
"And I answered. Now it's your turn."
I sighed, pushing shrimp around on my plate. "I see someone who's trying to put her life back together. Someone who's scared but pretending not to be. Someone who doesn't know if she'll ever feel normal again."
"You will."
"How do you know?"
"Because you're stronger than you think. And because you're not doing this alone." His voice was firm, certain. "You've got Katrina. Olek. Me. We're not letting you fall."
Tears pricked at my eyes, and I blinked them back. "Why do you care so much?"
"I already told you why."
"At lunch. The whole 'you're under my skin' thing."
"Yeah. That." He leaned back. "And because watching you fight your way back to life is one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. You inspire me, Shanice. Even when you're driving me crazy."
I didn't know what to say to that. So I just smiled and went back to my food.
We finished dinner, both of us stuffed to the point of pain. When the waiter brought the check, Mikhail didn't even look at it before sliding his card over.
"Thank you," I said. "For tonight. For all of this."
"You don't have to thank me."
"I want to. This was perfect. Exactly what I needed."
We walked out to the SUV, and I felt lighter than I had in months. Happy. Almost normal.
Mikhail opened my door, but before I could get in, he caught my wrist.
"Shanice."
I turned, finding myself inches from him. Close enough to see the gold flecks in his dark eyes.
"Yeah?"
"I meant what I said earlier. About my intentions." His thumb brushed over my pulse point. "I'm going to ask for more. Soon. And when I do, I need you to be honest with me. Tell me if you want it too, or tell me to back off. But don't lie to spare my feelings. Okay?"
My heart was hammering so hard I was sure he could feel it. "Okay."
He held my gaze for another moment, then released me and helped me into the SUV.
The drive home was quiet, but comfortable. And when we pulled up to the mansion, I found myself not wanting the night to end.
"Goodnight, Mikhail," I said, gathering my purse.
"Goodnight, Shanice." He smiled. "Sweet dreams. I’ll put your leftovers away, too."
I walked inside, my skin still tingling from where he'd touched me.
This was definitely a problem. But maybe it was the kind of problem I didn't want to solve.