Chapter 2 #2
“You have got to be kidding me,” he said.
I stepped out of the elevator, dragging my heaviest suitcase over the threshold. The wheels rumbled loudly on the slate floor.
“Hello to you too, Volkov,” I said, lifting my chin. My voice was steady. Good. “I see you got the memo.”
Kai set his fork down. The sound was sharp. He walked around the island, moving toward me. He moved like a predator—silent, efficient.
“I got a memo,” he said, his voice rough. “From the Dean. Saying he had a ‘housing emergency’ and needed to utilize the guest suite for a few days. He didn't mention he was moving the entire contents of Saks Fifth Avenue into my living room.”
He stopped three feet away from me. He crossed his arms. His biceps flexed against the fabric of his hoodie.
“It’s not for a few days,” I said, bluffing. I couldn't let him know how terrified I was. “It’s for the semester.”
Kai’s eyes narrowed. “The hell it is.”
“Take it up with the Dean,” I said breezily, abandoning the suitcase and stepping further into his space. “I’m sure he’d love to discuss your academic standing. How is Intro to Ethics going, by the way?”
It was a low blow. I knew it. But I needed leverage. I needed him to know I wasn't just going to be a doormat he could order around like he did last night.
Kai’s expression darkened. A dangerous glint entered his eyes.
“You think you’re clever, Princess?” he asked softly.
“I think I’m homeless,” I said, the bravado slipping just a fraction. “And I think you’re stuck with me. So we can either make this work, or we can kill each other. Personally, I’m too pretty to die.”
Kai stared at me for a long beat. The silence stretched, thick and heavy. The air between us crackled with that same strange electricity from the night before. It wasn't just anger. It was awareness. Hyper-awareness.
I could smell him from here—that clean, soapy scent mixed with the smell of dinner. I wondered what he tasted like.
Stop it.
Finally, Kai let out a harsh breath through his nose. He ran a hand through his short, dark hair, messing up the severe style.
“Rules,” he said.
“Excuse me?”
“If you stay, there are rules,” he said, stepping closer. He invaded my personal space again, just like last night. He knew exactly what he was doing. He was using his size to remind me of the hierarchy here.
“Rule one,” he said, holding up a finger. “No noise after 10 PM. I sleep. I recover. If I hear your terrible pop music, I will throw your speakers off the balcony.”
I bristled. “Fine.”
“Rule two,” a second finger. “The kitchen is my domain. You don't cook. You don't leave dishes. You don't touch my meal prep.”
“I don’t cook anyway,” I scoffed.
“Rule three,” he leaned down, his face inches from mine. I could see the flecks of silver in his slate eyes. My breath hitched. “No guys. No parties. No bringing your little entourage here to gawk at the view.”
“I don’t bring guys home,” I said quickly. Too quickly.
Kai paused. He scanned my face, his gaze dropping to my lips and then back up. He looked searching, curious.
“No?” he murmured. “Why not? The Princess doesn't like to share her toys?”
I flushed. “It’s none of your business.”
“It is my business if they are walking on my floors,” he countered. He straightened up, towering over me again. “Those are the rules. Break them, and I don't care what your father says. I’ll change the locks.”
“Fine,” I said again, grabbing the handle of my suitcase. “Where do I sleep?”
He pointed to a door on the far side of the living room, opposite his own.
“Guest suite. Far side. Stay out of my wing.”
“Gladly.”
I started to drag my bag toward the door, my heels clicking on the floor.
“Maeve,” he called out.
I stopped. I didn't turn around. “What?”
“The walls are thin,” he said. His voice was low, laced with a dark amusement. “So try not to talk in your sleep. I hear everything.”
I stiffened.
“I don’t talk in my sleep,” I lied.
“You do,” he said. “You were muttering last night when I carried you out of my room.”
My head snapped around. “You… you carried me?”
I had thought I walked. The wine had made everything fuzzy. I remembered the laundry. I didn't remember leaving.
Kai leaned back against the kitchen island, crossing his ankles. He looked infuriatingly smug. And hot. God, he was so hot it was annoying.
“You passed out on the rug while the washer was running,” he said. “I put you in a cab. You’re heavy when you’re dead weight, by the way.”
Mortification washed over me. I had passed out on his floor? He had carried me?
“Thanks,” I choked out.
“Don’t thank me,” Kai said, turning back to his food. “Just don’t make a habit of it. I’m not your babysitter.”
I wrestled my bag into the guest room and slammed the door shut.
I leaned back against the wood, sliding down until I hit the floor. The room was dark, cold, and smelled faintly of lemon.
I was trapped.
I was trapped in a glass tower with a man who despised me, a man who had seen me at my absolute worst twice in twenty-four hours, a man whose hands I could still feel on my skin even though he hadn't touched me today.
I pulled my knees to my chest.
He’s not your babysitter, I told myself.
But as I looked around the empty, foreign room, a treacherous thought whispered in the back of my mind.
Maybe I want him to be.
I buried my face in my hands. This was going to be a long semester.