She stares at me like I’ve grown a second head.
“I don’t know if I’m doing this right,” I continue, feeling increasingly stupid. “Am I supposed to argue more? Beg to stay? Or just… leave quietly like you want?”
The silence stretches.
“Are you seriously asking me for instructions on how to get kicked out of my apartment?”
“Yes?”
She blinks. Then starts laughing. “Oh, my God. You’re serious. You actually don’t know what to do right now.”
“In my defense, like I just admitted, this has never happened before.”
“That’s sad.” She’s still laughing. “Okay. Here’s what you do. You walk out that door. You go home. You don’t text me asking if I got home safe because I’m already home. And you definitely don’t show up tomorrow with more gifts.”
“So… just leave?”
“Yes, Alexei. Just leave.”
“Right. Okay.” I open the door, then pause again. “And this is… normal? Women do this?”
“Oh my God, you’re seriously…” She stops mid-sentence, her eyes lighting up with a wicked idea. “Wait. Hold on. I’m coming.”
She disappears back into the apartment.
I stand there in the doorway, confused. Is she getting me something? A parting gift? Maybe she changed her mind about kicking me out?
She returns a moment later holding a 100 euro bill. And before I can ask what it’s for, she slaps it against my chest. “There. For your dick and gas.”
I catch it automatically, staring at her. “You’re… paying me?”
“You wanted the full experience, right?” She crosses her arms, smirking. “Well, this is what men do. They leave money and bounce. So there you go. Now get out.”
I stare at the 100 euros in my hand, then at her smug face. “You did not just pay me for sex.”
“I absolutely did. Feels good, doesn’t it? Very empowering.” She makes a shooing motion. “Now get out before I ask for change.”
Zoya physically pushes me into the hallway, and the door shuts firmly behind me. I stand there for a moment, still holding the hundred euro bill, then start laughing to myself as I head down the stairs.
She just kicked me out.
After the best sex of my life.
And paid me for it.
I want to marry her.
Chapter 5
Zoya
Iwalk into the private hospital room and find Sergei propped up against a mountain of pillows, looking significantly better than a man who’s been shot five days ago. There’s a stack of discharge papers sitting on his bedside table that he’s pointedly ignoring, so I pull up a chair and gesture toward the pile.
“Why haven’t you signed those yet?” I ask, looking him over for any signs of permanent damage. “The doctors say you’re stable, and I know you hate being confined, so sign the papers so we can get out of here.”
Sergei adjusts his gown and leans back with a stubborn expression on his face. “Why the hell would I even want to leave in the first place? The nurses are pretty, they take excellent care of me, and they actually tell me ‘good morning’ with a smile every time they walk through the door. Do you have any idea how long it’s been since a woman has said good morning to me?”
I stare at him in disbelief, wondering if the blood loss has affected his brain. “Am I not a woman, Sergei? I literally say good morning to you every single day when I walk into the office, and usually, I’m bringing you the coffee that keeps your heart beating.”