CHAPTER 12
LEAH
The lobby is fairly quiet this early in the morning, especially after last night’s storm. From the corner of my eye, I see Mikhail’s hulking figure pacing furiously just outside the front entrance. Equipped with sound and weatherproof glass, I can only catch a whisper of his rage as he roars obscenities into the phone, evident by the veins protruding from his neck, even at a distance. Whoever is on the other end of that call is getting their ass handed to them. I want to care. I should, since I know he’s talking to his flight staff, and whatever news they’re giving him doesn’t seem good.
But sadly, I don’t.
I’m far too exhausted from the emotional whiplash that is Mikhail Petrov. The more time I spend with him, the more I want to fuck him, hold him—and stab him in the carotid.
Sighing, I shift my gaze away toward a brick fireplace. I’m close enough to feel the heat warm my cheeks, and it’s exactly what I need at that moment as I close my eyes and tune out the distant voice of the man driving me to the edges of my sanity.
Last night, he’d slept on a love seat, and a part of me, the one stupidly in love, couldn’t help feeling slightly guilty as his 6’4” massive frame dwarfed the large piece of furniture. I woke up to him contorted in a way that should have left him with the mother of all cricks in his neck.
Despite the disaster that occurred between us, I threw a fleece blanket over his body before heading to the bathroom.
“Glad to see you survived the storm.”
Conner’s unexpected voice catches me off guard. His tone is bright, though the bags painted beneath his eyes let me know his night wasn’t all that restful.
“I did. Did you end up crashing in the lobby after all?”
He sticks his hands in his pockets and sways as he nods. “Wasn’t so bad. They were nice enough to give me a blanket.”
“I’m glad,” I say, flashing him a friendly smile. “Are you heading out?”
“Got word the roads should be cleared in about an hour.”
His fidgeting becomes more apparent. He’s nervous, mouth thinning as if he’s debating a question he’s unsure he should ask. Surely, he isn’t thinking of asking for my number. While Mikhail and I don’t behave like a couple, it’s pretty bold of him to assume otherwise. But I remain quiet and patient so he can get on with it. Maybe this is why I’ve always preferred older men— and when I say older, I mean only Mikhail —because guys my age are so immature and indecisive. Or maybe I’m just hopelessly biased since indecision seems to be a trend in my life, regardless of the source.
Conner scratches the back of his head and draws a breath. “That guy you’re here with...are you two—”
“Why don’t you fucking stutter some more? Maybe she’ll understand you better.”
Mikhail’s harsh words startle Conner, who cringes and whirls back to where my partner stands against the door, leveling him with a murderous glare.
Rolling my eyes, I push to my feet and stand between them. “Don’t take your bad mood out on others, Mikki. Conner here was just about to invite me to breakfast.”
Maybe using this poor kid to fuck with Mikhail is low, especially as his eyes widen and ping between us in a panic. But I’m feeling particularly petty.
“Was he now?”
“Uh, no...I-I was just saying goodbye.”
Conner isn’t a small guy. He’s just a few inches shorter than the man plotting his death. But darkness lives in the eyes of the Petrov men and the way they carry themselves like predators among prey. Demanding respect and reverence while dominating every room they step foot in. I know that look all too well. It’s the same one I’ve been surrounded by my whole life.
Made men.
And like in every species, the strong sniff out the weak and vice versa.
“I have to get back to work. Hope you all make it to where you’re headed.” Conner spares me a half smile and retreats down a back hallway.
“Has anyone ever told you your people skills suck?”
Mikhail shrugs. “I don’t need people skills.”
Cocky bastard.
“So?” I ask as he moves with purpose toward the front desk. “When do we leave?”
“We don’t,” he deadpans.
I trail behind him. “What does that mean?”
Mikhail runs a hand through his hair, the stress evident in the harsh exhale fleeing his lungs.
Yet his gaze unexpectedly softens when it finds mine.
“The storm must have fucked the plane. Something about lines freezing over. It’s undergoing maintenance and probably won’t be ready for another day.” “Shit. The drop is this evening.”
“Yeah. Shit.”
“Can’t you just rent another one? Do you need me to contact Rod?”
He drags in another breath of air, as if calling on every ounce of patience in his body. It strikes me then that Mikhail has never had to answer to anyone. Feelings of insecurity suddenly creep in as I wonder if he finds my line of questioning and company annoying.
“Don’t worry about all that,” he says, his tone surprisingly tender. “I’ve made some phone calls, and we’ll be good until tomorrow.”
“So what now?”
A thrill runs through me at the thought of another night alone in a room with this man—and then I want to slap myself.
“I have to ensure we’re good in the suite for one more night. Why don’t you get us a table for breakfast, and I’ll meet you in a few.”
I say nothing as I head for the lobby until he catches my wrist and tugs me back to his side. The steel behind his eyes is gone, replaced by the sparkle of a smile.
“Hey, are we good?”
“Why wouldn’t we be, Mikki?” I tease, clapping his chest.
I’m willing to bet money, my idea of good dramatically differs from his.
As I motion to leave, he stops me again. “Leah, I’ve done a lot of thinking. And things between us are not what I want them to be in so many ways. But I’m asking—no, begging—for us to put it all aside for now. And I know I don’t have any right to ask that of you. But the last thing I want is to argue and see you upset.”
The sincerity in his eyes slash at every weak point in my resolve, but unsure how to respond, I simply continue toward the lobby without looking back.
Deciding to play it cool while we eat, I pretend our confessions and everything that happened between us in the last twenty-four hours was just a fever dream, because as I listen to him speak, I remember how much I enjoy his company without pressure and expectations. It’s the first time I feel completely at ease since our reunion, bringing me to the conclusion that maybe his proposal of a temporary truce is for the best.
A soothing sense of warmth spreads through my chest as I watch his hard exterior melt away while he relays his plans for Christmas and the anticipation of seeing his family after months.
Of course, I ignore my inner whore pointing out the fact that I’m also shamelessly wet.
Sue me.
“Your dad is having a baby?” I ask with genuine shock, and he nods.
Mr. Nikolai is a very handsome man and the epitome of a silver fox. No wonder his sons are blessed with good looks and egos to match. I’ve met most of them over the years to some capacity.
“Congrats. Whew! That poor girl. I already feel for her.” I chuckle, shaking my head.
He grins but agrees. “I haven’t met her yet, but family is family. And Natalia, the baby, my brother’s wife—all have their place in mine.”
Twinges of envy ripple through me at the realization that Mikhail doesn’t consider me part of his circle. Averting my eyes, I swallow back the lump in my throat. But not before he catches the disappointment on my face.
Reaching for my hand, he rasps, “ Moya krasivaya devochka, ty samaya vazhnaya .” (You’re the most important one.)
But I slip from his grip and refuse to meet his eyes. I won’t allow him to reel me in again. “Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.”
“I may be a lot of things, pretty girl, but a liar isn’t one of them.”
I beg to differ.
The small cafe isn’t the place to rehash the past, so soon after we agreed to keep things light. Instead of responding or diving across this table and strangling him, I scan the room, searching for a change in subject. A framed white sign advertising skiing and snowmobile rides catches my eye.
Having never skied in my life, I opt not to die on these slopes. And on the other hand, how hard could driving a snowmobile be? It looks similar to a jet ski, and I’ve been on plenty of those.
“Mikhail, let’s do something fun.”
His eyebrows draw together. “Something... fun ?”
“Yeah, you know that thing normal people do when they’re not working 24/7? If we’re stuck here, we might as well make the most of it.”
I can think of at least five positions that would also work in this scenario...