Page 16 of The Darkness is Calling

That’s when I notice something important. She isn’t wearing an engagement ring. Not on her left hand. Not on her right.

Interesting.

“As long as you live in this house, I am responsible for your safety,” I inform her, slipping my hands into the pockets of my trousers.

Because my first instinct is to wrap my fingers around her throat until I can no longer feel any vibration in the thick vein where I can almost see her blood rushing beneath the skin. And then lose the last shred of my humanity in those lifeless blue eyes while I press my mouth to hers.

Calm, Voron...

You are not allowed.

Not her.

That is the weakest voice in my head.

“Dimitri is one of our most trusted men, and he will accompany you wherever you go from now on.”

She glances toward the dark-haired man with earrings in his ears and an impeccable suit, whose build would make even the largest fighters envious. He greets her with a discreet dip of his head, a sign of respect.

“I haven’t had a bodyguard in the last five years,” she tells me, visibly displeased by my announcement.

“I don’t know how many attempts on your life there have been during that period, but after your father’s death, in less than two weeks, evidence was found that someone is following you. And these people are not part of our organizations.”

A knock at the door interrupts our conversation, and Dima moves immediately.

It is one of the two giant apes who brought her here.

I almost shake my head in amusement. A pile of muscle like him would not last in a real fight. Too slow. Too rigid. Good only for catching bullets with his own body, not for protecting someone from them.

That is why I categorically refused to allow those two hulking idiots to continue their service under the roof of my house. Absolutely not.

My house, my men, my rules.

“Miss Borislova, we brought your car,” he announces, looking at the woman he has been responsible for over the last few days.

He holds out a set of keys, which Dimitri takes immediately, then shuts the door in the other man’s face.

“Right,” she says, extending her delicate hand toward Dima, who looks at me to wait for my command.

I give a subtle nod, though I don’t know why I do it.

Probably because I am too distracted by her long fingers, by her perfect manicure, by an elegance that is still affecting me far more than it should.

Her nails aren’t long, but could she scratch me with them enough to make me bleed?

That would be pleasant.

NO.

Fuck.

I need to get away from her.

Three voices are arguing inside my head because of her. It has been a long time since there was this much noise...

I hardly swallow against the knot strangling my airway, and I have no idea how I still manage to appear unaffected by her presence or by the chaos inside my mind.

“We will provide you with one of our cars,” I say in a harsh voice.