Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
THORA
The following evening, I sit across from Blair, barely hearing a word she says. My mind keeps returning to Anton and how quiet he became when he dropped me off at my car outside the diner after we left the woods.
Something changed between us. I remember standing there with my hand on the door, reluctant to leave, and the silence made me think he didn’t want me to go either.
During the drive home, I rehearsed excuses in case Greer took one look at me and realized I’d spent the evening sleeping with a man she would insist I stay away from.
When I arrived and found the house empty, I hurried straight to my bedroom and closed the door behind me, grateful I wouldn’t have to face her.
“What’s with you today?” Blair sets her glass down, snapping me out of my daydream.
I grab my sparkling water. “Nothing. What do you mean?”
Her hazel eyes squint. “Oh, come on. Is it him again? Are you still seeing him? Please tell me you’re not.”
I try not to react too quickly. “No, it’s not him. I’ve just got a lot going on at work, plus my parents are planning this big gala, and apparently my sister thinks they’re trying to set me up with someone.”
Blair leans back, eyes widening. “Oh, shit. That’s not good.”
“You’re telling me. I swear they’re afraid I’ll be alone for the rest of my life. Though I don’t think a life of solitude with my own small farm would be all that terrible.”
She scrunches her nose. “I don’t know. I can just see it now. You, old and gray, talking to your animals. Or yourself.” She tilts her head. “Though I guess talking to other living things is better than having conversations with yourself.”
“Oh, shut up.” I laugh.
“I’m serious. I’m not telling you to go find a husband, Thora, but you haven’t even dated anyone since…” Her voice drops, and she inhales deeply.
Since Tucker. I know she hates that name as much as I do.
Blair reaches for her club soda, like she needs something to do with her hands. “Do you at least know who the guy is? Is he nice? Easy on the eyes?”
I shrug. “He’s okay. I’m not interested, though.”
“Got it.” She studies me for another second. “Well, maybe we need to find you your own man. Then they don’t get a say.”
I’ve already found him.
But to spare her a heart attack, I just say, “You know how my dad is. No one’s ever good enough for me.”
She folds her arms, and the second her mouth starts to curve, I know I’m not going to like whatever she’s about to say.
“What is it?”
“Well…” She flicks her blonde hair over her shoulder. “There’s actually someone who’s interested in you. Someone your parents would definitely love.”
I sit up straighter. “Who?”
“You know Avery from my office?”
“Yeah.”
“Her older brother, Brayden. He’s the CEO of that tech company. He asked about you.”
I pitch back. “Really? I didn’t even think he knew me.”
“Apparently he saw you at some event your family hosted and didn’t come over because he’s shy or whatever. But he’s been asking Avery about you, and she finally told me. He wants to take you out.”
Goodie…
“He comes from old money,” she continues, ticking it off on her fingers. “He’s good-looking, successful, from the same circles as your family, and definitely the kind of guy your parents would approve of.”
She’s right. He’s exactly the kind of man they would pick.
“I’ll think about it,” I say, knowing I won’t.
“What is there to think about? Unless there’s a very sexy Russian bad boy who is occupying your mind instead.”
“And how is calling him sexy supposed to make me not think about him?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugs with a salacious grin. “I’m just stating the obvious.”
Picking up my drink, I take a long swallow before setting it down. “I’m really not into dating right now.”
“Just fucking, then?” Her full brow arches.
“Blair!” I whisper-shout, looking around. “Not that either.”
“Uh-huh, sure.” She nods, giving me a look that says she knows I’m bullshitting. “Of course not, because you’re Virgin Mary.”
I play with my salad, trying to ignore her, but she keeps staring.
“I’m serious,” she adds. “If you’re seeing that guy, you need to stop. He’s going to get you killed.”
“I’m not seeing him. Stop worrying.”
With a huff, she lifts her chicken Caesar wrap, knowing I’m completely full of shit.
ANTON
The rooftop is silent as I lie prone behind the ledge, the rifle positioned in front of me and my eye fixed to the scope. Across the street, tonight’s target moves through his penthouse, about to learn a valuable lesson.
The man bought from us for more than ten years, but the instant the Whitlocks offered him a better deal, he abandoned us without hesitation.
That alone would have been enough to get him killed, but then he made the mistake of becoming disrespectful, speaking to Konstantin as though he was untouchable and we were desperate enough to tolerate it.
Now he and his family are about to understand the difference between business and disrespect.
I adjust the scope, centering the crosshairs on him as he walks through the room in an expensive suit with a woman who isn’t his wife, completely unaware that his brains are about to paint the fucking wall behind him.
But as I’m about to pull the trigger, she appears in my mind, as though she’s there to stop me.
My fingers press against the panties tucked inside my pocket. The ones I told her I’d clean, but couldn’t stomach stripping of her scent. They’re the only thing I have left.
It’s been two days since I last saw her, and somehow it already feels like withdrawal.
I crack my neck and lean away from the scope, rubbing a hand over my face before forcing my focus back where it belongs.
The rifle settles against my shoulder as I look through the scope again, tracking the target while the woman says something that makes him laugh.
She disappears from the room while he stays by the window, distracted by his phone.
Mudak. Idiot.
I slow my breathing and let instinct take over, my body falling into familiar rhythm as the noise in my head clears. My finger squeezes the trigger; the bullet flies and tears straight through the middle of his forehead, killing him before his body even hits the floor.
The woman struts back into the room seconds later. Then comes the screaming. I’m already dismantling the rifle and packing everything away while panic erupts inside the penthouse across the street.
But as I zip the case shut, Thora’s face flashes through my mind with a gun aimed between her eyes.
My gun.
What would she think if she knew what I do? If she saw me this way and understood exactly what I am?
My teeth clench. Why the fuck do I care?