Everything he’d said made it clear he’d already mapped this out, his future, and mine in turn, and he had zero doubts this was how it was going to go down.
And instead of pure terror, what I felt was this awful, addictive pull. It was as if someone had tightened the world around me, stopping it from spinning.
Floating was exhausting and being wanted like this was dangerous. But it was solid.
I rose to my feet, duffel in hand.
“You realize,” I said carefully, because I needed to hear myself talk like a sane person, “this is how documentaries start.”
He lifted one shoulder, uncaring. “Yes.”
“Oh God. I will absolutely be the girl in the interview footage where everyone says ‘she seemed sonormal’.”
He stepped closer then. Not enough to trap me, but enough for me to feel his presence shift the air. My breath hitched as I stared up at his masked face.
“You are normal,” he said evenly.
“That’s debatable.”
“Doesn’t change you coming with me, though.”
“Oh my God.” I pointed at him accusingly. “See? That’s exactly the kind of sentence a murderer says before he murders someone.”
He tilted his head slightly. “Technically, Iama murderer.”
I blinked at him, horror washing over me.
Holy fucking shit. How could I have forgotten about that part?!
I blamed his giant dick. And the mask hadn’t helped in terms of keeping my wits together either. Fuck, this was so bad.
“You’re a lot calmer than I anticipated,” he commented.
“I’m spiraling internally,” I informed him, my heart thundering in my ribcage. “And actively reconsidering every life choice leading to this exact situation with a potentially homicidal Russian.”
“I protected my family,” he corrected quietly, his stormy gaze piercing. “I don’t kill for sport … I always have a reason.”
That did not help nearly as much as he seemed to think it would.
“You realize it still sounds fucking creepy, right?”
“If I wanted you hurt,” he said softly, stepping close enough to make my pulse trip over itself, “you would already be hurt. If I wanted you afraid, you would already be afraid. I want you with me.”
There was no arrogance in his voice, just the truth and the worst part was — he was right.
The thought of him walking away, leaving the apartment quiet again with the boxes just sitting there and the half-life I’d been pretending was temporarily consuming me completely, felt worse.
It was deeply concerning but still a fact I needed to come to terms with. There was something seriously wrong with me, but I was done denying myself what I really wanted.
This would likely go wrong — horribly so — but IwantedSasha.
“I need my good sneakers,” I repeated, because focusing on footwear was easier than confronting my obvious moral collapse.
“Get them. We’re leaving now, Little Devil.”
“If you murder anyone tonight,” I called as I hurried to the bedroom, “I would like to formally state I object.”
“I will take it under advisement.”