Chapter 13
Kinsley
I'm Not Interested
“Seriously?”
I got up and gave him the finger from my window before shutting my curtains.
My heart raced. What does he want with me? There was something distinct about him and the way he carried himself. My mind went in fifty different directions as I reread his texts.
Consequences—a word I was completely familiar with, but at least his weren’t immediate. But let him try anything funny; he’d be met with the sharp edge of my blade or a small piece of metal flying through the air as it leaves the chamber at twice the speed of sound.
I couldn’t give it space in my head, or I’d drive myself crazy. I didn’t have time to dwell on him. Especially if it turned out his interest was Pasha, who couldn’t seem to let it go. Speaking of dance, I had an early morning shift at the café and then class right after.
Tossing and turning, I fell into a fitful sleep, willing myself not to have any nightmares. Instead, I dreamed of tattoos, hourglass timers, and playing truth or dare with the stranger with beautiful blue eyes.
As I began my shift at the café, I couldn’t shake the memory of those eyes that haunted my thoughts since yesterday. Despite my apprehension, I was relieved when the day turned out to be uneventful.
Not a Reaper in sight. With the weight off my mind, I looked forward to getting to dance class so I could channel my nervous energy into something meaningful.
Warming up, I sighed as I caught sight of Pasha out of the corner of my eye. His well-defined, muscular legs and broad shoulders were a testament to his dedication to the art of dance. My chest rose and fell as I took a deep breath and turned.
“Hi again. Are you joining us for class?”
I asked, trying to keep my voice even. His beautiful golden eyes bored into mine, imploring me to admit I recognized him.
“Myshka, why are you doing this to me?”
His voice was so different, all manly now.
“Mr. Lenkov, I do—”
“Pasha. Please call me Pasha,”
he requested.
“Mr. Lenkov, I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m not this ‘Myshka’ girl. My name is Kinsley,”
I insisted.
“How old are you? At least answer me that?”
I hated the confusion and hurt in his eyes. It pained me to be the one who was causing him turmoil. “You know, we Americans find asking a woman her age or her weight insulting. We don’t like that,”
I said, trying to deflect.
“Dance with me just once, and I’ll know if I’m right,”
he declared, grabbing my hand. He went to maneuver our bodies in an old formation, and I gulped, willing my body not to respond.
I’d give anything to dance with him one more time. But instead, I pulled away and left him standing alone by the mirror, both of us feeling miserable.
“This makes me even more sure that you’re my little Mouse. If you weren’t her, you wouldn’t be afraid to dance with me so I’d finally leave you alone,”
he said softly to my retreating back.
I ignored him and continued walking over to Mr. Dulaine, tears pooling in my eyes. He was mid-demonstration while “Ashes”
blared in the studio speakers. He glanced at me in concern, so I put a fake smile on my face and got into position.
As I looked at Pasha once more, my heart ached like it was being ripped from my chest. Fighting back a quiet sob, I shifted my focus to the routine instead.
Doubt crept in, unsure if I could do this with him standing and watching. Never had I allowed myself to dream of running into him again, let alone being in the same room. A memory resurfaced, and a pang of sadness filled my heart. I think he may have been twelve years old, making me seven.
“Myshka, I can’t marry you. You’re like my little sister.”
“Nuh-uh. We’re not related, and one day you’ll love me as I love you, and we’ll have babies who dance and take the world by storm. You wait and see, Pasha.”
I poked him in the stomach.
“Myshka, you don’t even know how babies are made, you silly girl.”
“I do so. My papa and mama are making one right now.”
“Right now? Oh, Myshka, you have so much to learn.”
He shook his head at me, making me upset.
“Yes, Pasha, you don’t know everything.”
I stood on my tiptoes, trying to appear taller.
He tossed me high into the air effortlessly, his grip providing a sense of safety even as I soared. The rhythmic beat of the music dictated our moves and routine. Standing precariously on his shoulders, I placed my hand on his head to push myself into a handstand.
As I stretched my body into a straight line, I marveled at how the sun shone through the window and glinted off his thick brown hair.
“He is so making a baby. He loves my mama, and that’s how babies are made—with love,”
I exclaimed while upside down.
The room filled with his laughter, followed by the thump of my feet as he set me back down and tugged on my long braid.
“Myshka, your papa is standing over there talking to mine. Babies aren’t made when a man speaks to another man, trust me. Your parents aren’t making a baby right now.”
He stretched and rolled his shoulders as our silly argument continued.
“It takes a long time for a baby to be made, Pasha. You and I will have a baby too. I may have one already being made.”
I pushed my belly out, which only caused him to laugh harder.
Both of our fathers noticed and came over to see what was going on.
“You should be practicing. Now, tell us what’s so funny,”
my father asked.
After all was said and done, everyone had laughed at my foolishness. I remembered my papa telling me we’d talk about how babies were made another time.
“Earth to Kinsley. Are you going to join us or not?”
Mr. Dulaine’s raised voice startled me.
“Sorry, Mr. Dulaine,”
I mumbled, flushing.
“Would you go first, please?”
He waved in front of him.
Taking center stage, I took a deep breath and arched my back, stretching my hands to the sky reverently. The rhythm pulsed in me as the beginning notes played.
Tapping my foot, I swayed as the beat of the song picked up pace. I counted in my head and five, six, seven, eight, then I moved with the singular purpose of dancing to the lyrics.
The music grew louder, and I lost myself in the choreography, dancing my inhibitions away. Finally, my feet hit the floor, tracing a curve, drawing a line in the sand that no Reaper or former dance partner could trespass. One arm outstretched, my waist jerked outward. My other arm followed suit with yet another jerk of my waist.
The storm would not be calmed. Sliding into splits, I embraced the burn of the stretch before pulling myself back up on the ball of my feet, loose wisps of my hair stuck to my head.
The unforgiving floor was hard beneath me as I gracefully dropped back down and rocked from my back to my front, pulling my body up on my toes. I did the move again, then launched into turns. My voice rang out as I sang the lyrics. They pulled from a place of personal experience.
I could hear the other dancers cheering me on, along with Mr. Dulaine. Finishing the routine, I panted and smiled at Sarah. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Aleksandr King in the shadows, dressed in all black.
Anger rushed through me as I glared at him. He smiled, his even white teeth flashing. Pulling out an hourglass from his pocket, he shook it. The sand fell faster as he tapped the top part.
Without thinking, I crossed my arms in front of me, giving him the finger with my right hand on my arm; then, moving it up, I pretended to scratch my cheek. Casually, I walked over to Sarah.
“Who is that?”
she asked, following my gaze.
“Some weirdo. Don’t worry about it,”
I told her.
Turning away, I noticed Pasha standing next to us. He had this knowing look, like somehow my dancing gave me away. Shit. I should have been more careful. My anger flared, and I lashed out at him.
“Look, I have no idea why you keep insisting I am someone else when I’ve told you I’m not, but you need to leave me alone. I will go to the police,”
I threatened with my hands on my hips, tempting him to say something. My index finger ached to poke him in the stomach.
“Kinsley,”
Sarah shrieked.
Her shock at my outburst was understandable, but my heart was shattering into a million pieces, so I quickly drew within to distance myself from the emotions.
God, go away, Pasha. You’re killing me. I can’t give you what you want.
“Sarah, you’re up next if you can tear yourself away from socializing,”
Mr. Dulaine reprimanded us.
I stood there watching her dance, concentrating on her movements. I ignored Pasha until he eventually sighed and left, and I took a deep breath to steady myself.
“Looks like you have a secret admirer,”
Mr. King said, walking over while the other dancers took a turn.
Damn Mr. Dulaine’s open-door policy. “Yes, well, I’m going to call the police on him if he doesn’t leave me alone. Maybe I’ll add your name to the list as well,”
I sneered.
I was trying to sound brave but honestly felt very uncertain. There was something about Aleksandr’s voice that shook my insides. I tried to put some distance between us and walked to a far corner of the room, but he followed me over. I crossed my arms, throwing a glare his way. He was so tall, I had to crane my neck to look at him.
Throwing his head back, he laughed. With a soft rustle, his fingers deftly pulled a phone from his pocket. He tapped on the screen and dialed someone.
“Hey, Chief, it’s Alek. Yes, checking in. Are you and the Mrs. still on for next week? Sounds good, see you then. Oh, I’m bringing someone to the gala event. A cute girl I recently met. No, seriously. Her name is Kinsley Taylor.”
I stared at him. That was bold. And did I hear him correctly? He thought I was cute. He flashed me a devilish grin, and warmth spread through my body.
“You’re probably not even talking to anyone,” I huffed.
He attempted to hand me his phone, but I pushed his hand away with a scoff.
“Sorry, she’s calling me a liar. I don’t know if I should be offended or impressed,”
he responded into the phone.
I rolled my eyes, and he grinned as he put the phone on speaker. How annoying.
“Chief, say hello,”
he said, and I heard the man say hi.
“Hello. If you’re really the chief of police, I’d like to open a harassment charge against Aleksandr King.”
Irritation flashed through me as a chuckle sounded on the other end.
“I see. And how is he harassing you, if you don’t mind me asking?”
he questioned, almost like he thought this was a joke.
“He came to see me at my place of employment and demanded that I speak with him. Somehow got my cell phone number without asking me for it. Then, today, he’s here at my dance class, clearly not here to dance. And is now saying he’s going to bring me to a gala event. Not asking me, but bringing me,”
I listed out his transgressions while Aleksandr grinned.
“So, you’re not interested, I gather?”
“Not in the least. So do I need to come to the station to file an official report?” I asked.
“Yes, you could do that. Or I could bring it to the event. Whichever would be easier for you,”
he concluded.
“The station it is. Thank you, Chief.”
I bristled at his somewhat dismissive tone.
Mr. Dulaine’s voice reached my ears, so I gave him my attention instead of only half listening. Aleksandr King was very persistent. If he knew the chief of police, chances were, nothing would come of filing a report. I was at a loss about what to do with this situation. But I didn’t feel threatened, so I decided the best course of action was to ignore him.
Surely, he’d get bored and go away. He mentioned eating the same thing every morning was boring. If I continued to ignore him…Yup, that was the way to go. I smiled thinking about it.
It wasn’t like Pasha could stay here forever either; he had upcoming shows booked. I’d checked out his tour schedule and knew he was only here for a week or two more. As soon as Pasha left, maybe Aleksandr’s interest in me would go away too.
I just wanted to live a normal life, go to work, dance, and maybe even try dating this year. But I most definitely wouldn’t be starting with a man like Aleksandr King.
“Great class, everyone. Next week, we’ll start ballroom. Come prepared, ladies and gentlemen.”
Choosing to stay the course and ignore the creeper, I made my way to the locker room and showered. When I checked my phone, I saw a text from the manager of my second shift asking if I could come in now. I quickly responded, gathered my things, and walked to the front door.
Aleksandr was waiting and followed me out. I sighed heavily. So much for ignoring him.
“Wow, you really are clueless. What do you want from me?”
I demanded.
“I want you to have dinner with me.”
“You can’t be serious?”
“One thing you’ll learn about me is that I’m always serious. Go out on a date with me.”
I shook my head at him. It’s official; he’s crazy.
“You’re mental.”
I tried walking away from him, but he grabbed my hand.
I knew virtually nothing about dating, but ask me obscure facts about the dancing world, such as what the world record for the longest conga dance line was, and I could spout out the number in my sleep: 119,987 people in 1998. It took place in Miami, Florida.
While being kept, I’d been trained with a basic knowledge of how to entertain men, both at dinner and in the bedroom, but I had never found myself in a situation where I had to put that knowledge to the test, thank god.
And despite how handsome Aleksandr King was, there was something about him that warned me I would be playing with fire. I knew that I’d need to discover how intimacy worked at some point in my life, but, again, not with this man.
He was intimidating in so many ways. Plus, I hoped that I’d meet a man who would cherish and love me like my father did my mother. And for some reason, Aleksandr didn’t give off I’ll cherish you forever vibes.
“I haven’t forgotten your insolence in not answering my question last night. Would you like a second chance? I rarely give those, but I’m feeling generous.”
His voice was husky as he eyed me questioningly.
I boldly stepped up to him, putting my hand on his chest, right under his heart. I looked up into his beautiful blue eyes and said, “Do you really want to know what I’d like from you?”
I fluttered my eyelashes at him.
His arms went around me, instantly pulling me closer to him as his face lowered to my neck. “I know what I’d like to do to you, but ladies first.”
He inhaled me like I was a flower, and small goose bumps broke out over my arms. There was something intimate and possessive in the way he nuzzled me. Frozen in place, I gasped at the sensation of his nose and lips rubbing a sensitive part of my neck.
I gripped his arms and felt his muscles flex. His sandy-colored hair was contrasted by a slightly darker beard, one I wanted to touch and tug on. His deep blue eyes, combined with his golden skin tone, made him look like he’d recently returned from a beach vacation.
He had that kind of sex appeal that made you feel like you’d met a god. His body was hard, everywhere, and as he held me, he felt like a brick wall.
I’ve lost my mind. Stop fangirling. Coming to my senses, I found my voice.
“I’d like for you to leave me alone. I’m not interested in whatever it is you think you’re doing,”
I said, pulling back from him.
His grip tightened, and his eyes flared with desire. One of his hands combed through my hair as he gently tugged on the strands. He tilted my face up, and before I could even think, his mouth pressed against mine. Time stood still, the world faded away as our lips met. The sensation knocked me back.
His tongue slid across my lower lip, and my mouth parted to his. He delved his tongue inside, meeting mine, taking ownership of it. It was deep, passionate, hot, and full of something akin to desperation.
I clung to him in the afternoon sun as people walked by on the street. I stood on my tiptoes as my hands automatically moved to caress the clean-shaven parts of his head. A small moan escaped. I didn’t want him to ever stop kissing me. It was the first time I had ever been properly kissed by a man.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realized how stupid this was. I didn’t know this man at all, and I was allowing him to kiss me passionately in broad daylight in the tiny town I lived in. Moving my mouth away from his, I whispered his name. I didn’t know if it was that or if he’d come to his senses, but he released me as if I scalded him.
“Leave,”
he mumbled.
Without hesitation, I turned and bolted in the opposite direction. What just happened? I walked the remaining two blocks to my second job and tried to put him and his strange behavior from my mind. The only solace I had was that he seemed as confused by what happened between us as I was.
Thankfully, it was a Friday and so busy that I lost myself in serving my customers. I worked until 11 p.m. and was exhausted when I walked through my front door. After showering, I went to turn the light off when my phone rang.
I glanced down and picked it up. “Hey, what’s up?”
“We going to talk about the elephant in the room?”
Sarah asked as loud background noises filtered through the speaker.
“We can. What are you doing? It’s noisy.”
“Getting ready to go out, but I have a few minutes. Since you won’t go to that new club with me, I’m having my sister come, and she’s taking forever,”
she snarked, giving her older sister crap. “I’m waiting, friend, spill the beans. Since when does a hot man come to talk to my best friend, and she says nothing about it? He’s delicious looking. Does he have a brother or best friend? Who is he? Spill, girl.”
I filled her in on the little I knew, which was his name and what he told me at the café.
“He’s intense, arrogant, controlling, and has an odd fascination with how I smell. Not to mention he asked me what I use in the shower. Who does that to a stranger?”
I asked, needing confirmation that I wasn’t crazy.
“Maybe he wants to shower with you,”
she teased.
I rolled my eyes at her comment. “You can shower with him, then. It was mortifying being sniffed and nuzzled by a Neanderthal in front of my boss and regular customers.”
I didn’t tell her about the kiss this afternoon. Without the ability to articulate my emotions, it was easier not to mention it.
“Look, we’ll need to talk more about this tomorrow. Darla is finally ready.”
We hung up after making plans for the next day. Turning my light off, I closed my eyes and fell asleep. I was having the loveliest dream of being surrounded by a field of honeysuckle shrubs, but I kept hearing a buzzing.
The bees were loud, and I looked around, searching for them. But I woke when I realized the buzzing was coming from my phone. Grabbing it, I saw I had four missed calls. Shit. What happened now?
“Sarah, what’s wrong?”
I demanded, answering the phone. I cleared my throat, still feeling groggy.
“Not Sarah, but your friend needs you. It looks like you’re playing, after all,”
the rich, smooth voice of Aleksandr King laughed in my ear.
“How the hell do you have Sarah’s phone? What happened to her? I swear if you hurt her—”
“Slow down, darling. Your friend had too much to drink, her sister left her, and she hurt her ankle. Imagine my surprise when her ride or die was you.”
Damn, Sarah. I could totally see her drinking too much. And Darla leaving her wasn’t anything new. I’d picked her up a few other times, although she was the one who always called me. I didn’t know if I should believe him or not, but one thing was for certain: him calling me darling was going to stop.
“Aleksandr, I will tell you one last time. Call me darling again, and I will cut your tongue out. You’re so unoriginal, ‘darling.’”
I mimicked his voice. “Do better. Now let me talk to Sarah.”
“I’d like to see you try to cut my tongue out, dar—oh, that’s right, you want something a bit more original. You got it, kotyonok.”
My heart fluttered at the new nickname.
“Now for your dare. I dare you to get dressed in something sexy and come collect your friend. If you don’t, the consequences, I’m afraid, will not be to your liking. Or hers,”
he stated calmly.
“I’ll send an Uber for her. What’s the address?”
I asked, ignoring his demands and trying not to focus on the fact he called me kitten in Russian. It’s better than darling, but still.
“If you send an Uber for her, it’ll force me to call the chief. I mean, we found a small amount of drugs on her. I’d hate for her to get booked.”
“You’re a liar. Sarah doesn’t do drugs,”
I said, knowing my friend well enough to know better.
“Hmm, I wonder who the chief will believe? I’ll give you an hour, tops. See you soon.”