“I’m not a baby,” I defend.
His brows lift. “No. You’re a grown woman.” It feels like there’s more to his statement that he leaves off.
“Where did you sleep?” I decide not to dive into whatever he’s trying not to say.
“In bed. Where else? The couch is too small.” He turns off the stove and moves the pot to a cold burner. “If you want to get dressed before you eat, hurry up.”
“You slept in the bed with me?”
The left side of his mouth kicks up. “Elana, my cock was buried deep inside you last night, but you’re worried because I slept beside you in a bed?”
I move his duffel bag from the pile and grab my suitcases. “Fucking and sleeping are two very different things.”
“Get dressed. Your oatmeal will get cold if you take too long.”
“Oatmeal?” I scrunch up my face. I haven’t had oatmeal since I was a little kid living with my mom in the one-bedroom apartment over a butcher shop.
“Are you getting dressed or not?” He reaches for a bowl on the counter beside the stove.
“Whatever,” I mumble and drag my suitcases into the bedroom.
After changing into another pair of leggings and a long sweatshirt, I look through the bag. I was sure I had the bonds in this one. I check the second bag. They’re not there, either.
“Did you take them?” I demand running into the living room with my hands fisted.
Artem leans back in his chair at the small wooden table. The second chair has a bowl in front of it, steam billowing from it.
“Take what?”
“You know what. The bonds, did you take them out of my bag?”
“Oh, that.” The chair creaks when he leans forward, scooping up a large spoonful of oatmeal and shoveling it into his mouth.
“Artem.” I ground out his name. Patience has never been a quality of mine. I blame it on the Volkov blood. None of my brothers have any, either.
“Sit and eat, cold oatmeal is no good.” He pushes my chair out for me with his foot from beneath the table.
“You took them.”
“Of course I did. Now sit.” His voice dips at the end. It’s not a suggestion.
I plop into the chair. The oatmeal looks inviting; he’s dressed it up with raisins and honey drizzled on top.
“Are you going to tell me what you plan to do with the bonds?” I stab the oatmeal with my spoon, mixing the honey in.
“I have them in a safe place until I know what the next move is.” He picks up a mug and sips from it. “Do you want coffee?”
“No.” I take a bite of the oatmeal. It’s warm and creamy. Sweet from the honey and raisins. “Thank you.”
“There’s a small town at the bottom of the mountain. I’ll go down this afternoon to get a few supplies. I only keep the staples here, but we’ll need more than oats and dried meats.”
“We’re going to be here that long?”
He lifts a shoulder. “I’m not sure. Hopefully only a day or two.”
“I don’t think Janis is going to forget about three million dollars in two days.”
He smiles, soft on the edges but with no actual joy. “No. He’s not. But by then I’m hoping your brothers will have decided what to do.”