I don’t look back.
When I arrive at the estate, my first instinct is to go check on Alyssa and then Lev. But with Nikolai’s words still ringing in my ears, I go to Lev first.
He’s in the basement, playing his games. He doesn’t stop when I open the door. “Hey, buddy, how was physical therapy?”
“Good.”
“What did you do after?”
“Nothing.”
“Did you run into Alyssa after George left?”
“Yeah.”
Fucking hell, it’s like pulling teeth today.
“Did you have dinner with her?”
“Yeah.”
I grit my teeth. “What did you guys talk about?”
“Lots.”
“Lev, can you pause that game while I’m talking to you?”
Lev’s eyes veer to me for a moment and his jaw tightens. “No.”
His body has started rocking slightly, so I sigh and leave. “Fine. I’ll leave you then. Go to bed soon, okay?”
He doesn’t acknowledge that apart from a grunt. I shut the door and head to my office. I’m craving something strong again. The last time I had this feeling, I ended up in the basement fucking the life out of Alyssa.
Not happening again. The fact that I’ve fucked her twice already is enough of a black mark on my record. Should have just fucked the green-eyed pharmacist instead.
But even the thought of it—no matter how hard I try forcing myself to linger on the fantasy—doesn’t get my blood pumping. Which is pissing me the hell off.
So I grab myself a drink. Vodka, the best I have available, because it’s one of those days. I take a huge sip that burns my throat as it goes down.
Okay, so maybe Alyssa has caught my interest a little more than most other women, but it’s just an inflated sense of lust. There’s no way it’s anything other than desire. Sure, I can relate to the woman on some things, but that doesn’t mean shit. I can throw her back into the wild the moment she doesn’t need to be here anymore. Life will get easier. I’ll fall back into my routines again. I can restart my—what did she call it?—my “revolving door of women.”
But instead of pivoting into those future possibilities, I end up thinking about Alyssa.
And not just her naked body spread out across the bed. Well, not only that.
I think about the way her eyes filled up with tears when I told her about how my parents died. I think about the way she looks at Lev. I think about the anguish twisting her face when she opened up to me about her sister.
It’s just sex. Lust. Desire. That’s all.
But even with the vodka to smooth things over, it’s not so easy to believe.
29
ALYSSA
The picnic blanket under the big tree in the south garden has become my regular haunt. I’m out here so often that I even manage to convince Lev to join me from time to time. Today, he’s got another physical therapy appointment, so I’m soaking up the sun all by my lonesome with a book in hand.
To be fair, I’m mostly ignoring the book. Well, not ignoring it; it’s just that I’ve read the same sentence about a thousand times in a row. I keep thinking about how it’s been almost forty-eight hours since I last saw or spoke to Uri.
After his abrupt departure during our picnic the other day, he became a ghost. Lev mentioned that Uri said this and Uri did that. That he checked on him in the mornings, the evenings, every night before he fell asleep.
But I never saw him.
It’s enough to make me roll my eyes. He thinks he’s so damn mysterious. Mr. No One Can Figure Me Out. The big, scary mobster who’s an enigma to all he meets.
Severed fingers, he can handle.
But a vulnerable conversation? No siree. That’s where he draws a line.
Well, whatever. It’s not like I want to see him. It’s not like I miss talking to him. I’ve got Lev and though his conversational skills are limited, I’m grateful to have someone around to spend time with. Even if that requires suffering through hours upon hours of video games.
I pick up my book and attempt another stab at it. Once I discover that the male protagonist is a tall, handsome, broody lord of something or the other, I shut it again. I’ve had enough of tall, handsome, broody men. They might get your heart pumping and certain other ahem body parts throbbing… but they also leave you feeling constantly uneasy, unsure, and insecure.
Who needs that? Not I.
So he can go ahead and avoid me for as long as I’m his prisoner. I don’t give a flying fuck. I’m much better off on my—
“This is what you choose to do with your newfound freedom?”
I startle with shock, a little squeak escaping through my teeth. I rock back on my knees and straighten to face him. Uri has his eyebrows arched with amusement.
I clear my throat self-consciously. “First of all, reading a book in a dark basement is very different than reading a book under sunlight. Second of all, I’d hardly call this ‘freedom.’ I’m still trapped here with nowhere to go and nothing to do.”
“If I recall, you have a box full of sex toys to keep you busy.”
I blush and scowl simultaneously. “Not the same thing. I want to go out.”
“Where would you like to go?”
“What does it matter?” I laugh bitterly. “It’s not like you’re offering.”
“What if I am?”
Slowly, I get to my feet. The sun is slanting down on top of us, turning his hair into a molten mess of gold and cinnamon. “Don’t toy with me.”
He smiles and my heart shudders. So much for my aversion to tall, handsome, broody men. “I wouldn’t dream of it. You do plenty of that to yourself.”
“Ha. Ha. Ha.”
He adjusts his posture and tilts his head to the side to look at me from a new angle. “You’re right—you have been cooped up here for a long time and you haven’t tried to escape. It’s only fair that I reward good behavior.”
I desperately want to say something snarky but I bite my tongue. If he’s gonna offer me an opportunity to leave the estate, I’m sure as hell not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth. “Where would we go?”
“I figured you’d know exactly what you wanted to do.”
I answer without thinking. “I mean, I don’t do much.” He cracks up at that one. Idiot, think before you speak. “What I mean is—”
“What you mean is your life isn’t that interesting.”
“Hey! It’s plenty interesting. I travel a lot. I’ve been to eighty-seven different countries. I’ve met tons of interesting people and done really cool things and—”
“And when you’re done traveling?” he interrupts. “What then?”
I blink at him.
“You’re just here to mess with me, aren’t you?” I snap, shoving past him. “You have no intention of taking me anywhere. You just want to make me feel—”
“Have you been to Sakura?”
I stop short and turn on the spot. “Sakura?” I repeat. “As in the Japanese restaurant that has a three-month long waitlist to get in?”