“Your escape?” I say hesitantly when he doesn’t explain.
He nods. “One day, I will tell you more. I swear to you. But…”
“I understand,” I whisper, even though inside I’m torn. Could the mysterious Irina play a role in the pain of this anniversary? God, it’s too selfish to consider, let alone mention out loud.
Instead, I settle against him, resting my mouth against the crook of his neck. Soon enough, I’m kissing my way down his collar bone, feeding off his startled—yet encouraging—grunt.
He claimed to have never had a relationship with a woman—but that’s the scary part. Relationships could be categorized and forgotten. But true, rare connections went deeper than such a word. They were insidious, everlasting, even after the recipient of such feelings vanished.
They lingered, never disappearing.
And no one else could ever fill that void.
Chapter Eleven
The next morning, my wakeup call comes in the form of a contented sigh that fans across my shoulder in a burst of heat. I open my eyes to the man lying beside me, so beautiful in half-wakefulness that it hurts. Overnight, whatever had been bothering him seems to have vanished. His devious grin makes a triumphant return as I snuggle into him with a matching peaceful sigh.
“Morning,” I murmur.
He strokes his fingers through my hair, marveling at the reddish strands. “Morning. A very good morning.” He shifts, revealing a hardening erection that strains against my hip. I murmur in sympathy and slither beneath the covers to test just how rested he is.
Minutes later, he’s fully awake, sitting on the side of the bed with a reluctant frown. “Early start today,” he says before standing and heading into the bathroom. “I have some deliveries coming.”
“Oh?” Though the logical part of my brain warns me against getting too excited, I can’t help it. I sit up, licking my lips at the possibilities.
Until he rains on my parade with a stern frown. “None for you. Well, maybe one is for you, but please don’t try to fuck it.”
I laugh at his serious tone and scramble from the sheets to join him, standing naked before the shower as he washes down. I don’t know who, between the two of us, is enjoying their view more. He groans like a man at his whit’s end when he finally leaves the shower to find me leaning against the countertop, fondling my breasts.
“You’ll be the death of me,” he whispers, eyeing me from head to toe. Then he shakes his head, and I sense him struggle to contain at least some of his lust. Enough for him to escape into the bedroom without lunging for me. “I can’t afford a delay today,” he insists while scrambling into the closet. “Some of these deliveries are time-sensitive…”
He seems to lose his train of thought as I prance toward him, my hips swaying. I manage to steal a five second’s detour worth of a kiss before he breaks away, cursing and snatches a shirt from a hanger as if it’s armor against my charms.
“Please,” he grates. “Give me this morning to be level-headed, and I promise I’ll reward you later. After your punishment.”
Satisfied, I get dressed beside him, and we venture downstairs to find the first of his “deliveries” already being carried across the foyer by a team of workers. Ena stands nearby, directing them with curt, one-word instructions.
“Vadim.” I grasp his hand and stand on tiptoe to plant a kiss along his jaw. “She’ll love it,” I tell him.
He strokes my cheek in return, his gaze distant. I suspect he doubts that very statement, still stuck on her obvious hostility.
“Check on her for me?” he asks as if hesitant that I’ll refuse.
“Of course.” I risk teasing him with another quick peck, and then I head down the hall and cautiously enter Magda’s room. She’s still dead asleep, her tiny chest rising and falling with every soft breath. The semblance between her and her father doesn’t end when they sleep. Though… Something about Magda’s button nose makes her expression less tormented than Vadim’s. More calculating. Even in slumber, it’s like she’s still thinking, still planning.
A trait of her mother’s? It’s a cruel thought that doesn’t leave me as I circle the bed to stand in front of her, copying our positions from yesterday in reverse.
“Morning, sweetie,” I say until she opens her eyes, frowning at the sight of me.
As if oblivious, I approach her window and pull back her curtains, letting in the fresh sunlight. Then I rummage through her end table until I find the wooden brush and climb onto the bed beside her.
“Which of your outfits shall you wear today?” I ask her, while extending the brush before daring to touch her. It’s only when she doesn’t cringe out of my reach that I gingerly stroke through her thick curls and smooth them into place. “The turquoise dress? I loved that one.”
She doesn’t say, choosing to crush It to her chest instead while she endures my brushing. Once I’m finished, I smooth her hair back and enter her closet in search of a headband. Ena—I’m starting to wonder if he may be more of a Saint than a devil—somehow managed to not only unpack every purchase from yesterday, but he arranged them by color and even stocked a glass cabinet with every accessory. I strongly consider extending our truce as I pick out a black velvet headband and turn to find Magda behind me, observing her options with a frown.
In the end, she settles on the turquoise sweater dress with a pair of leather Mary Janes. The resulting look is too darn cute—a little princess, grumpy beneath the weight of her crown.
“I’m hungry,” she declares afterward, tugging on my hand. While I marvel at the fact that she’s touching me at all, she manages to drag me into the hallway. Downstairs, Vadim had the piano placed near the back of the living room by the window.
The second she spots
