Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
THORA
I step into my secret hideout, slip off my shoes, and drop onto the sofa, dragging a hand down my face.
Okay, so maybe it isn’t exactly a secret hideout, but it’s a house I rent that no one in my family knows about. At least I don’t think they do, which means it still counts. Sometimes I need somewhere quiet, a place where I can escape work and my family and have something that is mine alone.
How long I can keep it hidden is another story.
Turning on the TV, I grab my cell from my handbag and check my emails.
But it doesn’t take long before my mind drifts back to him.
Before I know it, I’m typing his name into the search bar to see if he has social media, and no such luck.
Other than some press photos for the company, there’s nothing on him.
My fingers pause mid-scroll as I blow out a breath, staring at the ceiling.
This is ridiculous. Stop your madness.
When the phone buzzes, my fingers jerk against it like I’m afraid it’s him, which is ridiculous since he doesn’t even know my number.
But when I find Blair’s name lighting up the screen, relief washes over me.
“Hey. What’s up?”
“Wellllll…” she says slowly, dragging it out just enough to make me suspicious. “I should be asking you that.”
I frown, throwing one leg over the other. “What are you talking about?”
“Guess who called me earlier?”
Oh, boy. What did I do now?
“Who?”
“Nadia. You know, from that café you basically live at?”
Crap.
I pinch my lips, bracing for my friend’s wrath. “Oh, yeah? And what did she have to say?”
Please don’t let it be about Anton…
Blair’s wry laugh hits me.
Yeah, she knows.
“Oh, nothing major. She just told me how you were all cozy with some really hot, chiseled guy. The one who bought you coffee.”
Heat creeps up my neck.
“She even said she saw him brush his hand across your back,” Blair goes on, clearly enjoying this way too much. “And she was wondering if you were hiding a secret boyfriend. I told her, ‘No, Thora would never hide that kind of major news from me.’”
I squeeze my eyes shut. “She did not say that.”
“Oh, she absolutely did.” Blair laughs. “And I realized it had to be Anton.”
I groan. “Blair—”
“No. Don’t Blair me,” she cuts in. “I thought we’d already established you should be staying far away from that man.”
“I didn’t exactly go looking for him.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “He was just there.”
I also can’t stop thinking about him, but you don’t need to know that.
“Oh, and he just magically decided to cop a feel?”
“It wasn’t even like that. He was there, he bought me coffee, I asked about his dog, we talked. That’s it. I’m not marrying the guy.”
“Not yet.”
A chuckle slips out. “I love you, but you’re such a drama queen sometimes.”
“You call it drama. I call it being overly cautious. But when that man gets you killed, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Well, I’d be dead, so…” I shrug. “Kind of can’t say anything at that point.”
“That’s not funny.”
Shit. I shouldn’t have said that.
Her tone is teasing, but she goes a little tense. I know better than to joke about dying around her. She rarely talks about her brother, but Jace told me he was killed because of a bad decision their father made, so I understand why she worries about me.
“I’m fine,” I assure her. “Trust me. My family would never let anything happen to me.”
A long pause stretches between us. “Sometimes it’s not up to them. You have to take care of yourself too.”
“I promise, nothing is going on. If anything, he’s just…a friend.”
“Now you’re friends?” she scoffs. “Oh, great. Maybe we can all do brunch.”
“That’s actually not a bad idea.”
“I was kidding.” She laughs.
“I’m just saying…” I let my head fall back against the sofa. “I think you’d like him.”
“Doubt it,” she mutters. “Anyway, I’ve gotta go. We’re still on for this weekend, right?”
“Yep. Absolutely.”
“Okay. Behave yourself.”
“I’ll do my best.”
I let the phone fall onto the couch the second she hangs up.
Nadia is officially dead to me.
Blair isn’t wrong. If she’s already heard about Anton, it’s only a matter of time before the rest of my family does too.
I need to stay away from him. Even if we’re only friends, they’ll put an end to it before it has the chance to become anything more, and I’m only setting myself up for disappointment.
I release a weary breath, pick up my phone, and search his name. The instant his photo appears, whatever determination I had slips away.
Fuck. Maybe going out this weekend will be good for me. I could meet someone else and stop obsessing over the dangerous Russian with smoldering eyes and a pair of dimples that have no business being so sexy.
Maybe a distraction is exactly what I need.
I set my phone aside and go up to the bedroom, retrieving a notebook and pen from the nightstand. I should probably find a better hiding place for it in case my family ever discovers this little escape of mine.
Once I’m back on the sofa, I open to a blank page and begin writing. It has always soothed me, maybe because it gives the thoughts somewhere to go instead of letting them spin around in my head. Here, I don’t have to filter anything. I can say whatever I want to without anyone judging me for it.
ANTON
The inside of my car is dark except for the faint glow of my phone, my attention fixed on the live feed of Thora stretched across the sofa with a notebook resting in her lap.
She studies the page before her pen begins to move, and soon she’s absorbed in whatever she’s writing, smiling to herself now and then.
Blyat. What the fuck is she writing?
The camera angle shows me the notebook in her lap, but not a single word on the page.
I need to know every thought in her head. That’s my job.
My grasp tightens on the steering wheel as she giggles, the laugh filling me with a strange sensation. A strand of hair slips over her shoulder as she tucks one leg beneath herself, her face drawn in concentration while her pen continues moving.
What are you thinking about, Thora Whitlock?
I lift a finger to the screen and trace the curve of her face before following the shape of her body.
Would she like it? Me touching her like that?
I grind my teeth, dragging myself out of the fantasy. Onscreen, she closes the notebook, rises from the sofa, and slips it into a kitchen drawer.
Tomorrow, while she’s at work playing veterinarian, I’ll be inside that house reading every word.
Her secrets belong to me now. She just doesn’t know it yet.