“Ah, very good,” he said. He brought the cup to his lips and took a noisy slurp. “So, I can make it to the summit this afternoon, then come back here tomorrow night, and we can leave for Kosnovia on Monday.”
I blinked at him for a moment as the Pop-Tart threatened to come back up. I licked the crumbs off my lips and said, “Leave for Kosnovia?’
“Yes, of course,” he said with a happy smile. “You can pack while I’m at the summit. Take only what you don’t want to leave behind, because I will buy you anything you need once we are home.”
“Home?”
“Yes, in Kosnovia. I’ll call the travel office and have them book two first-class tickets to Kosnovia for Monday afternoon.” He noticed the frown on my face. He reached out a hand across the table. “What is it?”
“You’re serious?” I said, staring at his hand. “You really are serious?”
His forehead wrinkled over his brown eyes. “Yes, of course. I thought we had decided to marry and have a family. We have to do that in Kosnovia.”
“I thought…”
He pulled back his hand and tucked it inside the blanket. “You thought what?”
I shrugged and rolled my eyes. “I thought we were just, like, I don’t know, role playing or something.”
He looked at me as if he didn’t know the meaning of the words. “Role playing?”
“Yes. You know, you’re a handsome prince and I’m the damsel in distress, trapped in this ice palace. You come along to save me…” I gazed into his eyes and realized at that moment that this wasn’t a game to him. This was all very real. Holy. Fucking. Shit.
“I was not role playing, Rebecca,” he said, raising his chin and looking proudly down his nose at me. “I am Nikolay Rostov, crown prince of Kosnovia.” He paused and tilted his head to the side. “Rebecca, don’t you believe me?”
“Well, I mean, I believe your name is Nick and you sound a little like you come from Russia, but…” I swallowed hard when I noticed the hurt in his eyes. “Oh my god, you really are serious, aren’t you?”
“I am completely serious,” he said sternly. The muscles in his jaws pulsed. “And I thought you were serious, too.”
I threw up my hands and shook my head at him. “My god, Nick, we just met. We haven’t known each other twenty-four hours. Yes, we had great sex and I find you incredibly attractive and I like you a lot, and maybe someday I might want to marry you and start a family, but not now. I barely know you.”
“We would get to know each other in Kosnovia,” he said. His face was growing red. His Russian accent grew thicker the more upset he got.
“But, Nick, I don’t love you.”
The blanket fell off his muscular shoulders when he shrugged. “I don’t love you either. We will come to love one another, like my mother and father, and my grandmother and my grandfather, and—”
“I get the idea,” I said, holding up my hands. “Nick, I’m sorry, but I can’t marry you and move to Kosnovia. And I’m certainly not ready to have a child. Not with you or anyone.”
“I see,” he said. He studied the tabletop between us for a moment. “I will use your shower once more if you don’t mind to wash off the stain of our night together, and then I will get dressed and wait downstairs for the roads to clear.”
“You can wait up here,” I said, a little hurt that he’d used the word “stain” to refer to the amazing night we’d just spent making love. I gritted my teeth and forced myself not to cry. “It’s cold down there.”
He looked me squarely in the eye and said, “It cannot be as cold as it is up here.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Rebecca
Well, to say that my morning didn’t go anything like I’d thought it would be a gross understatement. I’d thought Nick would get out of bed, join me at the breakfast table, drink a little coffee, maybe have a bite of my Pop-Tart, and then bend me over a chair and take me from behind. Then we’d get in the shower and play “I’ll wash yours if you wash mine.”
Instead, Nick now hated my guts and I felt like a total douchebag. And I couldn’t blame him. But in my own defense, how was I supposed to know that he was being sincere?
I mean, my god, how often did a Russian prince stumble into a dive bar during a snowstorm looking for a wife to make a baby with?
Not to mention the fact that I’d only had one man in my life and he’d turned out to be a lying prick who beat the shit out of me. And Nick was so macho with his “you’re gonna suck my cock” crap…
Okay, strike that. I actually liked that part.
Shit. Way to go, Becca Boo, you fucking idiot. Way to go.
*
I sat there at the table sipping the last cup of coffee while Nick took a hot shower and got dressed. I resisted the urge to spy on him again. You’ve done enough, chided the little voice inside my head. Leave the poor man alone.