Page 41 of Sexting the Pakhan
His eyes return to mine.
My heart is pounding, but I lift my chin anyway. It’s either that or collapse, and I have already done enough shaking for one afternoon. “I’m not walking into a strange house by the sea with a mafia boss because he says so.”
“Then stand outside and freeze.”
I blink.
He takes off his coat and holds it out. I stare at it like it might bite me.
He sighs, not loudly, but enough to annoy me. “Zoya.”
“Don’t say my name like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you own the next thing I do.”
His gaze holds mine. “Put on the coat.”
“No.”
The wind cuts hard across the driveway. I shiver despite myself.
Ruslan notices. Of course he does. He notices everything and says very little, which somehow makes it worse.
He doesn’t step closer. He just holds the coat out between us. “You can hate me inside,” he says. “You’ll be warmer.”
I hate that he’s right.
I take the coat from him without thanking him and pull it around my shoulders. It’s heavy, warm, and smells like him—cedar, smoke, cold air, expensive fabric. The familiarity of that scent is so sudden and intimate that my throat tightens again.
I hate my body for recognizing him as comfort when my brain knows better.
Inside, the house is quiet and dim, all stone floors, wide windows, dark furniture. Too neat. Too controlled. There are men near the entrance, but they don’t stare at me. They look at Ruslan, receive some silent instruction, and disappear like shadows.
Ruslan leads me into a room facing the sea. A living room, maybe, though it feels unused. He keeps enough distance between us that I can’t accuse him of crowding me, but not enough that I can pretend I’m alone.
“You’ll stay here until I know what happened,” he says.
My hands curl into the sleeves of his coat. “You mean until you decide I’m safe.”
“Yes.”
“And if you decide I’m not?”
His eyes settle on me. He doesn’t answer.
My stomach drops. I laugh once, hollow and disbelieving. “Wow.”
“You are not in danger from me.”
“You realize how little that means right now?”
“I do.”
“Then stop saying things like I should believe you.”
He looks away first, toward the windows and the dark line of water beyond them. For some reason, that makes my anger falter.
