Page 57 of Betrothed
Heartless.
When did I slide into my cruel phase like everyone else except my beautiful sister?
I’d place my cousin Kathleen in the mix had I not continued to be angry with her. In all the craziness, she’d left me a message, sharing the joy of being on a Mediterranean cruise with the man of the hour, a true billionaire.
I fisted the beer bottle as I headed for the house, hating both myself and the man who I knew was following closely behind. Kirill certainly had no intention of allowing me out of his sight.
I’d been such a fool, but my admittance meant nothing. After being captured and dragged into a neighborhood I knew well, the likelihood of him discovering my full identity had tripled.
He was closer behind than I’d realized and it seemed as if his hot breath was tickling the nape of my neck. With my nerves on edge, I rubbed my skin in a mindless way, eventually using my nails until I was able to feel pain.
“The door is already unlocked. Go ahead inside.” His voice was even more authoritative, but as always with the man, there was such amusement in his tone. Nothing seemed to rattle him.
With one exception. Me.
That didn’t make me feel any better because men in his position who developed obsessions were considered the most dangerous of all.
There was no reason to feel as if the moment I walked inside the house I might never leave, but the sensation was real. The fear as well. But I did as he asked, opening the door and heading inside. Every step exacerbated the taut feeling in my stomach, a tension that had only somewhat to do with him. Why did I feel as if I’d been dropped into the middle of a savage game?
The sight of the interior caught me off guard and I burst into laughter. All other thoughts were driven aside. “Oh, my God. Really? This is very… unusual.”
Seeing every piece of furniture covered in a sheet was so unexpected, we both laughed. He moved further into the room and as he closed his eyes, the Russian words spouted weren’t ones of happiness. “Damn it. The house was supposed to be ready for occupancy.”
“You bought a furnished house and they forgot to remove the ghostly coverings?”
His entire face was pinched and with the heavy clench of his jaw, I was certain his teeth would hurt later. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“You mean I wasn’t supposed to happen. Right?” He flicked a strange look in my direction. “You know, given you’re a man who usually has everything under control, when anything is out of whack, you can’t handle it.”
His dichotomy of emotions was what made him so sinfully attractive. That was becoming an issue for me, perhaps for both of us. I continued laughing while he grew even more frustrated.
“I demand order.”
“Order? These are sheets to protect the furniture. That’s it. Come on. Use some elbow grease and let’s get them off and folded. Can you do that?” While I was waiting for him to answer, I took a few sips of my beer.
“I can call someone to do it.”
“Are you kidding me? Let me guess. You live in a lap of luxury where you have hired help to do everything from turn down your bed to getting your jammies warm for you. And I assume they do all your shopping and cleaning. Do they provide foot massages too or perhaps wash your back or other… places on your body?” The drop of my gaze to the thick bulge the scrubs couldn’t hide wasn’t my intention, but I couldn’t help myself.
Kirill absolutely brought out the worst in me. Damn him.
I licked my lips before pulling the bottle to them to try to distract myself. Why did he find the need to walk closer? I’d already been bombarded with one too many images of his nearly naked body after the storage room.
Finally, the man chuckled. “You seem to think you know me so well.”
“Maybe better than you realize.”
“You’re wrong about a few things.”
“Like what?”
“For one, I don’t wear pajamas.”
It felt as if the ice was broken, the mood shifting back to where he’d been before. He was far too charming and he knew theeffect his casually tossed out phrases had on me, using his good looks to his benefit.
He was incredibly handsome, especially when floating the image of a hot bod doctor in the scrubs. But the flash of anger had been real. He didn’t do well in situations that he couldn’t one hundred percent control. While I had no desire to stay here no matter his accusation that my body had betrayed me, I also didn’t desire to hang out with sheets covering everything.
After taking another manly swig of my beer, I set my bottle on a table and got to work. Who took the time any longer to cover every piece of furniture, especially in a house of this size?
