Chapter 23
Anya
The intercom on the nightstand crackles to life, and Zoya’s voice fills the room. “ANYA! Are you going to come get your dinner or what?!”
I groan and roll off the guest bed, crossing the room to press the button. “I’m coming!”
“THEN COME FIND ME! Take the elevator down to the last floor!”
“Alright, sure,” I mutter to the empty room.
I step into the hallway and immediately realize I’m hopelessly lost. This house is massive, and even though I’ve been here since yesterday, every turn looks the same. I wander past closed doors and expensive artwork, turning corners only to find more endless hallways.
Where is the damn elevator?
I pass a door that’s cracked slightly open and can’t help but peek inside. It’s a beautiful, masculine room with dark wood and black silk sheets. My eyes go wide when I spot the vanity. Multiple guns are laid out like an armory, and right next to them sits a watch.
I walk over and pick it up, whistling low when I see the brand. “Patek Philippe. The real deal,” I whisper. “This is worth at least 200,000 euros.”
“What are you doing?”
I jump and spin around, nearly fumbling the expensive watch. A man stands in the doorway, and he is a total giant - six-five easily, with broad shoulders and thick, tattooed arms. His dark hair is still wet, and he’s shirtless, wearing nothing but grey sweatpants.
“Oh my god, don’t scare me like that!” I breathe.
He looks down at me, his eyes searching mine. “Who are you?” As soon as our gazes meet, his expression softens into something almost shy. “I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s okay. I’m Anya, Zoya’s friend.” I hold out my hand, and it practically disappears when he takes it.
“Taras. Alexei’s cousin.”
“Nice to meet you.” I hold up the watch. “This is really beautiful.”
“Thank you. You can set it down now.”
I give him a playful look. “Can I have it?”
His eyebrows shoot up. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s mine,” he says simply.
“Come on. It’s not like you don’t have the money to buy more.”
He stares at me, looking genuinely confused. “You want me to give a stranger my 200,000 euro watch?”
“I’m not a stranger. I’m Anya.”
“Knowing your name doesn’t make you less of a stranger.”
I take a seat on the edge of his bed, leaning back. “But I’m pretty. Doesn’t that count for something?”
He blinks, and I watch as a deep red flush starts to climb his neck. “Yes. You are. But I’m not your boyfriend. And if you have a boyfriend, what you’re doing is wrong.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Are you some kind of traditional man? Like, if I have a boyfriend, I can’t even talk to other men?”
“If you were my woman,” he says, his voice dropping into a serious, intense tone that makes my stomach flip, “I wouldn’t want to see you with another man. Because that man would be dead. I’d hope your boyfriend has the same mindset as me.”
The intensity is intoxicating. “Well,” I say, “I don’t have a boyfriend. Do you want to be my boyfriend?”
His face goes bright red. “I…what? I’m sorry, I…”
“Are you shy?” I tease.
“No, I’m not…I just…” He starts to stammer, running a hand through his wet hair.
“You’re totally shy. You’re blushing, Taras.”
“I’m not…” He stops himself and sighs. “Okay. I think I’m making you uncomfortable. My watch, please.”
I hold it up, dangling it from my fingertips. “Come and get it.”
“Please hand it over.”
“I said come get it.”
He moves forward and reaches for it, but I pull it back at the last second. He lunges, loses his balance, and we both tumble onto the bed. He catches himself just in time, his hands landing on either side of my head as he hovers over me.
“Oh,” I breathe, looking up at him. “You’re a big boy.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll get off…”
I don’t let him. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him down closer.
“I don’t want to crush you, Anya,” he whispers, keeping his weight braced on his arms. “I’m too heavy.”
“You won’t hurt me.”
“I will. I’m huge, and you’re small.”
“Then keep your weight on your arms like you’re doing.”
He lowers himself just an inch, his chest brushing mine. I can feel the heat radiating off him. Up close, his tattoos and scars are even more impressive. I reach out, tracing a mark on his shoulder. “You have a lot of scars and tattoos.”
He stares down at me, completely still.
“Does this hurt?” I ask, touching a scar on his ribs.
“Not anymore.”
“This tattoo is beautiful,” I murmur, my hand sliding lower.
“Can you please not touch me?”
“Why? You don’t like it when women touch you?”
He swallows hard, his jaw clenching. “I’m not used to being touched.”
“Then why aren’t you pulling away?”
“Because I don’t want to hurt you.”
My hand slides down his chest and over his abs, and I feel him trembling beneath my touch. I look down and see the unmistakable ridge against his grey sweatpants.
“Have you ever been with a woman, Taras?”
His jaw clenches tighter.
“It’s okay if you haven’t,” I say softly.
“I’ve done things,” he mutters.
“What things?”
“I don’t want to talk about this.”
“You’re a virgin,” I realize, a smile tugging at my lips. “That’s sweet.”
“It’s not…”
The intercom crackles, breaking the spell. “Taras? Is Anya in there with you?”
He jerks back, practically jumping off the bed. He clears his throat before answering. “Yes. She got lost. I was showing her where the elevator is.”
“Uh huh. Send her down. Dinner’s getting cold.”
“I will.” He hangs up, the room suddenly feeling a lot colder.
I stand up and smooth out my clothes. “I should go.”
I head for the door, but his voice stops me.
“Wait.”
When I turn back, he’s standing there, looking everywhere but at me. “The watch. You can have it.”
“What?” I mutter in disbelief.
“It’s yours. I want you to have it.”
“Taras,” I shake my head. “I was joking…”
“I know. But please take it.” He finally looks at me, his eyes full of a strange hope. “In exchange… can I have your number?”
I stare at him. This massive, dangerous-looking man is negotiating for my number like his life depends on it. “You’re giving me a 200,000 euro watch for my phone number?”
“Yes. Please.”
“Okay.”
His eyes light up instantly. “Really?”
“Give me your hand.” I grab a pen from the vanity and write my number across his palm. “There. Don’t wash it off.”
“I won’t.”
“And Taras?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
He just nods, his face turning that familiar shade of red.
“See you soon, big guy.”