He instantly disliked my chef, fuck toy, whatever I deemed him to be when the whim took and strutted around my house like he goddamn owned the place. I’d reluctantly admitted what I felt toward Tayte was a mess, bordering on absolute loathing, yet the attraction was there, and I couldn’t get him out of my head for more than ten seconds. The man was a walking sex advert, which didn’t help my cause. Some days I’d have paid anything to buy what he was selling even if it wasn’t good for my health. Other days I was so disgusted at his presence I could barely say a word to him. Yes, someone had finally got under my skin enough to cause a reaction, and they itched like an acute case of chicken pox. He’d been my shadow for weeks and he was a full-on irritating spot that just wouldn’t quit.
The bedroom door banged open, and I swivelled on my feet clutching the towel to my chest, it was too goddamn early in the morning for his theatrics. “Get the hell out, Tayte.”
Ignoring my command, he strode across the room, grabbing my wrists and throwing me down onto the bed, the towel trailing down my side. Without hesitation, he climbed over my body and pinned me down, staring at me, angry fire in those eyes of his.
“You don’t get to fuck about with Yannick anymore, you hear me?”
“Oh, go fuck yourself. Who made you the boss of me?”
“Grow up, woman. You were in an arranged marriage, a sham at fucking that. He held up his end of the bargain, so stop being a petulant little bitch and let him live his life with whoever he wants. It’s not your business anymore.” Whipping my head to the side, I refused to look at him. “He’s banned you from Caulder’s, go there again and I’ll personally come drag you out by your hair.”
“What?”
“You can’t go assaulting the staff.”
“I can do what the hell I like. Now get the fuck off me.” I wriggled beneath him, but he held fast, wrestling one of my arms above my head. I was so focused on trying to buck him off, I didn’t notice what he’d done until it was too late. Staring up at him in disbelief, he climbed off the bed, grinning like a lunatic.
“Get this fucking thing off me. Tayte, I warn you…”
“No.”
“Oh, my God! You are going to regret this, I swear.”
“I don’t think so.” Lightning fast, he snatched the skewed towel and ruthlessly dragged all the bedding from under me, throwing it to the other side of the room. “You act like a spoiled little madam, you’re going to get punished like one.”
No, no, no. People did not get one up on me. Ever. I was always one step ahead, always had the upper hand. I glanced at the metal cuff securing my wrist to the headboard and let out a slew of curse words my father would have been proud of.
“What a waste of a beautiful body. Such a shame,” he sighed and turned toward the door, leaving me naked and suitably pissed.
“Wait,” I panicked. “You can’t leave me here like this.”
With a condescending wave, he said, “I can, and I will.”
The door closed to my cries of frustration and anger, cursing his name to high heaven. Fucker was going to pay for this big time. Who the hell did Tayte Litvenko think he was?
Jolie
Clutching the phone in my hand, I squeezed hard around the plastic, a litany of curse words swimming around in my head. I wanted to call Yannick and tell him to go to hell, that being in his life was too complicated and I didn’t want to see him again. Yet another part of me, a bigger part, wanted to do no such thing at all. Oh, no. The part which wasn’t furious, wanted everything Yannick Ischmov would give. Sure, he had a story, didn’t we all, but who was I to judge his past when he’d been nothing but kind and respectful toward me? Past and present collided, even if he’d been trying his hardest to ensure they didn’t. This wasn’t his fault.
For the past few weeks, I’d been happy, felt a peace I hadn’t in years, some of which was undeniably down to Yannick. We were on the cusp of something I craved to explore, was ready to. Irina’s outburst had been untimely, but I wasn’t about to let her sway my decision on moving forward with Yannick. After tossing and turning all night, I realised she had no bearing on my life whatsoever.
Now, I was pacing my living room, still upset and contemplating exactly how I should reply to the third text Yannick had sent in the past hour, glad he hadn’t called. It had given me time to formulate a response that would be kinder than the original barrage of ire I’d wanted to send the night before.
The knock at the door made my belly swoop hard, and I hoped against hope it was him, an insignificant gesture that would go a long way if he stood on the other side. I peered through the peephole, the hairs on my
