Chapter 17
“Are you avoiding me?”
Liza’s back stiffens, and she removes her palm from the suite’s front door knob. She was trying to make a getaway before I noticed.
She turns around slowly, her expression giving nothing away. She’s dressed in yoga pants, a cropped T-shirt, sandals, and her hair is in a messy bun. A gym bag is slung over her shoulder.
Definitely avoiding me.
“Not at all.” Liza straightens her shoulders. “Like I mentioned earlier, I’m spending the day at the hotel spa.”
I cross my arms and lean against the wall beside her, enjoying the way her eyes dip and travel over my inked biceps. “In case you forgot how this works, I’m your guard. Where you go, I go.”
She swallows thickly and tucks a strand of hair behind her ears. “Security is tight in this hotel—you said so yourself. I don”t think a man would be appreciated in the women”s only spa area.”
“Let’s cut the bullshit. You’re avoiding me because of last night.”
From the moment that Kira left with Feliks and Bogdan an hour ago, Liza hasn’t said a word to me. She’s been hiding in her room. But if it”s just going to be her and me for the next couple of days, we need to clear the air.
Her hands land on her hips. “Fine. You want to cut the bullshit?” she challenges. “Why are you here, alone with me, when you could”ve arranged for anyone else to take over from you?”
She’s too smart for me to lie to her, so I don’t bother trying.
I take a step forward, and she instinctively backs up until she’s plastered against the wall.
With an arm braced on either side of her, I narrow the gap between us. “Because I don”t want anyone else looking after you. Not Feliks, not Bogdan. No one.”
Vulnerability flickers across her face before her hands slowly raise until they’re both pressed flat against my chest. My heart pounds against her palms.
“We can’t,” Liza says. “You know that. I think we can both agree that we were caught up in the moment. It shouldn’t have happened, and it can’t happen again.”
I grit my teeth, painfully aware that we can”t risk another repeat—too much is at stake. Letting Maxim down by messing up our deal with the Petroviches isn”t an option, but I can’t seem to convince myself to wash my hands of this woman. Knowing you”re an idiot and doing something about it are two different things.
“What’s the real reason you don”t want to go home yet?” I ask. “Scared you won”t be able to look your fiancé in the eye?”
She closes her eyes and tips her head back. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“So tell me.” I lean in so close that my breath grazes against her cheek, and I run the pad of my finger over her pulse point.
She shivers but closes her eyes, attempting to block me out.
“Tell me if I got this all wrong. If you never want me to touch you again, say it, and I’ll never touch you again.”
Her mouth opens and closes. Unable to meet my gaze, she looks just past me. “You”re wrong,” she finally whispers. “After today, I’ll happily go home and start planning my wedding to Anatoly. Like I said, this was a mistake. We were both swept up, but”—she swallows thickly—“we need to put it behind us.”
I push off the wall and give her space.
I don”t believe her, not for one minute. But it doesn’t matter. Whether I believe her or not, it won”t change a thing. If anything, she did both of us a favor by shutting down the possibility of more. I should thank her, but I’m not feeling that generous.
A beat passes. Silence hangs heavily between us.
“Understood,” I say in a clipped tone. “I’ll escort you downstairs.”
She eyes me warily before shaking her head. “Not necessary.”
“That’s not your call to make. I’m still your guard. Once you’re in the spa, hotel security can take over.”
She nods, and I gesture for her to walk ahead of me. But I don’t miss the tremor in her hands, nor the way her eyes stay glued to the floor.
I’min a foul fucking mood for the rest of the day. I try and fail to get any actual work done. When my phone finally rings, jolting me from my racing thoughts, I realize I’ve spent the last hour pacing aimlessly around the suite.
“Privet,” I growl, seeing Pavel’s name flash across the screen.
“So, you’re staying in London. Alone. With Liza.” He doesn’t bother hiding the amusement in his tone.
Jesus. Word travels fast.
“Can’t leave her without a guard, can I?”
“Definitely not. And you definitely couldn’t have rearranged Feliks’s or Bogdan’s schedule either.”
If I could shoot my hand through the line and strangle Pavel, I would. He may be my bratan, but I don’t fucking appreciate the reminder that Liza is off-limits.
“Did you call to give me shit, or do you actually have something to say?”
“Both, actually.”
“Well, save the lecture. Nothing’s going to happen.” Nothing more, that is. “Why’d you call?”
He immediately sobers. “I have an update. It seems Anatoly took Sofiya to Beluga the night he was supposed to drive her back to school.”
My eyebrows pull together in confusion. “The restaurant?”
“No, the whale.”
“Fuck off.”
Beluga is a high-end restaurant in Moscow, with a private dining room that Anatoly likes to use for his business meetings. He’s dragged us there several times.
“Our hackers were able to get CCTV footage of Anatoly’s car parked around the back of the restaurant for hours. As far as we can tell, Sofiya was with him the entire time. The cameras didn’t capture anyone entering or exiting the restaurant, but two other armored vehicles were parked near Anatoly’s. They weren’t civilian vehicles—not with armored plates and blacked-out windows—and they didn’t belong to his guards. They were parked to the side.”
I sit down on the couch, my fingers drumming impatiently on my thigh. “Assuming he was there for a business meeting, why bring Sofiya? She’s a teenager.”
Pavel pauses. “There could be a simple explanation for all of this. And Sofiya’s seventeen, nearly the legal drinking age. We can’t jump to conclusions until we know more. Our men have eyes on Anatoly. So far, nothing out of the ordinary to report.”
I grind my molars. Something feels off, but it’s possible I’m allowing everything I feel for Liza to color my perspective. Just because Anatoly’s a shitty fiancé to Liza, it doesn’t make him a predator.
I steer the conversation towards the many other syndicate issues Pavel and I need to discuss. With Maxim taking a step away from the business, Pavel has taken over our counterfeit operations, which range from art and wine to money, and even fake car parts.
As we discuss syndicate matters, I don’t realize how much of the day has slipped away until I notice the sun going down over London. Liza should be back from the spa any minute now.
I’ve arranged for hotel security to escort her back to the suite. If I’m truly going to let this fucked-up obsession go, I need to avoid her as much as possible.