His gaze locks on my lips as he continues talking. “I went back to Moscow and had my tech guys run your information. It took maybe an hour.” He’s trying not to laugh. “They said I needed to come look at what they’d found. Couldn’t believe it themselves.”
“The search came back in under an hour with your full name, Zoya Koval, complete with an active bank account, current employment records, and a lease agreement for an apartment incentral Moscow, all of it filed under your real identity like you’d never heard the word ‘fugitive’ before in your life.”
He chuckles. “I sat there staring at your file thinking this has to be some kind of test, like maybe you left a trail this obvious on purpose to throw me off while the real you was hiding under a fake identity somewhere, but then my guys pulled up your Instagram account where you’d posted a selfie two days earlier with a Moscow street sign visible in the background, though I have to applaud you for changing Koval to Petrov in your job application.”
Alexei continues. “I had to decide right then whether to grab you immediately or wait.” His hand slides down to my neck, fingers resting against my pulse. “I chose to wait because watching you live your life thinking you were free was more entertaining than anything else I had going on.” I feel his fingers register my quickening heartbeat. “Plus, I figured if you were this bad at hiding, you’d eventually get yourself into trouble and need rescuing anyway.” He grins at me.
“That still doesn’t answer my question.” I look up at him. “Why me? Why do you actually like me?”
“I like you for many reasons.” His hand cups my face.
“And those are?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “If I begin to list them, it will not stop.” He pauses, his eyes searching mine. “Let’s just say watching you for over four to five years has taught me one thing. That I have a soft spot for reckless women. But not just reckless women. Kindhearted women.” His voice drops. “I know I don’t deserve a kind woman. And yes, you do treat me like shit sometimes. It hurts a little bit. But I think I’m kind of into being treated like that. By you, obviously.”
“Creepy,” I interrupt.
He gives me a look. “Don’t. I’m trying to open up here. You’re killing the atmosphere.”
“My bad.” I gesture for him to continue. “Go on.”
“Watching you throughout all these years, I’ve realized that you can actually love someone at first sight.” His hand moves to rest over my heart. “Your attitude. Your little smile. The way you giggle. Even your work. I just fell in love with all of it. I’m obsessed with it. I’m crazy about it.” He leans closer. “I don’t know. You haven’t done anything special to make me love you. I love you simply because you exist. So yes, I don’t need any reason to fall in love with you. All I need to do is just look at you, and I want to become a good man. One that you’re happy with.”
He rolls off me then, the weight of his body lifting as he stands beside the bed. I watch him shrug off his suit jacket, tossing it over a nearby chair, before his hands move to his tie, loosening it. The shirt follows, the buttons coming undone one by one until I can see the ink covering his torso, the raised scars interrupting the designs.
I watch him without bothering to hide it, too tired to pretend I’m not looking. He strips down to his boxers and a white undershirt, each piece of clothing removed quickly before he turns back to look at me.
“Go to sleep.” His voice is soft. “You’ve had a long day.”
I hum in response, too exhausted to form actual words. I let my eyelids fall, and consciousness slips away instantly, pulling me into darkness.
Chapter 12
Zoya
I’m too hot when consciousness returns, trapped under an arm, pressed against someone’s body. Air stirs against my nape with each exhale, and momentarily, nothing else registers except an odd sense of security.
Then I remember. I’m in Alexei’s house.
I shift carefully, trying to pull away without waking him, but his arm tightens reflexively, dragging me closer against his chest. I can feel the steady thump of his heartbeat through my clothes.
This time, I push harder, making my intention clear.
His breathing changes, and a low sound rumbles in his chest. “Planning an escape,Vedma?” Sleep roughens his voice, drops it lower, creating unwanted sensations in my abdomen. I’m pretty sure it’s moths.
“Bathroom,” I say shortly.
His grip doesn’t loosen.
“Alexei.”
Nothing happens at first, then his grip loosens and falls away.
Without glancing at him, I leave the bed, his stare burning into my back as I walk to the bathroom. Through the open doorway, I see a bathroom that dwarfs my former home, marble spanning the floor, dual vanities, and an enormous soaking tub.
The shower is a stark, open-concept glass box - three transparent walls without a curtain or a door, leaving me completely exposed to the bathroom and the bedroom beyond.
I stop and consider my options.