Chapter 4 #2
“As long as you live in this house, I am responsible for your safety,” I inform her, slipping my hands into the pockets of my trousers.
Because my first instinct is to wrap my fingers around her throat until I can no longer feel any vibration in the thick vein where I can almost see her blood rushing beneath the skin. And then lose the last shred of my humanity in those lifeless blue eyes while I press my mouth to hers.
Calm, Voron...
You are not allowed.
Not her.
That is the weakest voice in my head.
“Dimitri is one of our most trusted men, and he will accompany you wherever you go from now on.”
She glances toward the dark-haired man with earrings in his ears and an impeccable suit, whose build would make even the largest fighters envious. He greets her with a discreet dip of his head, a sign of respect.
“I haven’t had a bodyguard in the last five years,” she tells me, visibly displeased by my announcement.
“I don’t know how many attempts on your life there have been during that period, but after your father’s death, in less than two weeks, evidence was found that someone is following you. And these people are not part of our organizations.”
A knock at the door interrupts our conversation, and Dima moves immediately.
It is one of the two giant apes who brought her here.
I almost shake my head in amusement. A pile of muscle like him would not last in a real fight. Too slow. Too rigid. Good only for catching bullets with his own body, not for protecting someone from them.
That is why I categorically refused to allow those two hulking idiots to continue their service under the roof of my house. Absolutely not.
My house, my men, my rules.
“Miss Borislova, we brought your car,” he announces, looking at the woman he has been responsible for over the last few days.
He holds out a set of keys, which Dimitri takes immediately, then shuts the door in the other man’s face.
“Right,” she says, extending her delicate hand toward Dima, who looks at me to wait for my command.
I give a subtle nod, though I don’t know why I do it.
Probably because I am too distracted by her long fingers, by her perfect manicure, by an elegance that is still affecting me far more than it should.
Her nails aren’t long, but could she scratch me with them enough to make me bleed?
That would be pleasant.
NO.
Fuck.
I need to get away from her.
Three voices are arguing inside my head because of her. It has been a long time since there was this much noise...
I hardly swallow against the knot strangling my airway, and I have no idea how I still manage to appear unaffected by her presence or by the chaos inside my mind.
“We will provide you with one of our cars,” I say in a harsh voice.
“I have my own car,” she replies, waving the key to a Mercedes AMG GT R in front of my eyes.
“Is it armored?” I ask her calmly.
“No.”
I think she realizes she cannot win this battle.
“Then you will use our car, and Dima will drive.”
“Or he can follow behind me in his car, and I can still enjoy driving without someone taking away the pleasure of being behind the wheel.”
Okay.Calm.
My nerves begin to dance along with the voices that take each one of her replies as a challenge.
“That does not guarantee your safety, Ekaterina.”
My tone is heavier, provoked also by the cold shivers snaking along the back of my neck.
“Until the day of your wedding, you will follow my rules, which are meant to keep you safe. Once you become your husband’s responsibility, you can negotiate with him as much as you like.”
“And why can’t I negotiate with you?” “Because I don’t negotiate.”
“With terrorists,” she says immediately. “Excuse me?”
“That’s the saying. We don’t negotiate with terrorists.”
“And are you a terrorist?”
She smacks those beautifully shaped lips and lifts one shoulder. “I do enjoy terrorizing people, but I don’t have any murderous tendencies.”
Too bad
.
“Although I can’t guarantee that among the works of art my father sends me for exhibition, there isn’t a bomb meant to destroy a few blocks of London.”
She pauses.
“Sent me.”
I notice the shadow of sadness covering her
beautiful face, and those eyes, which until now have looked at me as if nothing could touch her, lower for a moment, heavy with grief.
I adore terror on people’s faces. I adore pain and agony, especially when I am the one causing it.
But I don’t like her sadness, even though normally it would leave me indifferent.
“So there’s no chance I can drive my car myself? They just brought it,” she adds, pointing one finger toward the door.
“We have a large garage where we can keep it without any problem,” is all I tell her, and that makes her press her lips into a straight line.
Except her lips are full and outlined with a transparent gloss that invites you to follow its shine and wonder if it tastes sweet.
I clench my teeth.
“Dima will give you a tour of the house and show you to your room. You can rest for a few hours before dinner, if you wish. Except for my office, you have access to every public area of the house. We don’t have closed doors, especially on the ground floor.”
“But do you have skeletons in the closets upstairs?”
Again, she catches me off guard with a reply far too direct and bold.
Normally, women raised in our families are quiet and timid.
Not her.
She is entirely different, having inherited her father’s courage, which she was not raised to hide, but to set free.
“We have a place in the Thames where we dispose them,” I confess without blinking. “We tried keeping a body in the house for a few days when we were younger, but we realized it started smelling bad rather quickly, no matter how many chemicals we used. We don’t repeat that mistake anymore.”
She is not completely shocked, but I can see she is surprised by my honesty, which she probably assumes is a lie.
It isn’t.
And I know no one would believe me, which is exactly why I can be so relaxed when I detail things like this.
“The bedrooms and the gym are upstairs,” I continue with the same indifference.
“Downstairs are the kitchen, the living room, and the relaxation room, where your piano was delivered this morning. Polina handles the food. If you want anything specific, tell her. She is an excellent cook, especially when it comes to traditional Russian food. If you have any more questions,
you can find me in my office.”
“You said I’m not allowed there.”
Calm, Voron...
“You are allowed if you knock and granted access.”
“Lovely presentation,” she says, looking around. “Thank you for the hospitality, and I hope we disturb one another as little as possible during this time.”
She offers a small smile, but it is only polite, with nothing sincere in it.
Then Dima takes her two large suitcases and leads her up the wide staircase toward the bedroom directly across from mine.
The distance between me and my prey quiets my dark impulses with every step she takes. By the time she disappears from my line of sight, I am already turning back toward my office, where I feel the prickling ease and my heartbeat calm.
The door barely has time to close before Yar and Sasha are behind me.
“Fuck me. That went well!” Sasha exclaims cheerfully, dropping into an armchair with his legs dangling over the velvet armrest.
Meanwhile, I go to the bar to pour myself another glass of vodka.
“It was a disaster,” Yar declares gruffly.
“She has a lot of nerve,” I say, feeling my older brother beside me as he reaches for the same bottle.
“She does. She is the daughter of a great Vor camouflaged as a delicate princess.”
“Maybe she really is delicate,” Sasha says, playing with his phone.