I open my door, intending to simply go fall into bed where I’ll ignore the rest of the world. About a week ago, I started staying here again. I wanted to give Ruslan and Sascha some space. They’re sweet and I love being around them both, but they need time together as well. They’re just across the hall if I ever need them and I know I can reach out if I do. They’re great friends like that, always saying how they’re going to stand by me.
The moment I step into the apartment, I immediately know someone’s been inside. Picture frames I placed around the room are knocked over and my pillows on the couch are cut open down the center with the stuffing falling out. Fear starts to take hold, my heart racing intensely in my chest. I should probably call someone, but what good would it do except upset others. They already think I’m incapable of taking care of myself, so I need to keep this private.
No, I’m a big girl. I can make sure no one’s here and see if anything is missing. I keep my keys fisted in my hand and slowly move throughout the apartment. In my room, nothing seems to be missing. But there’s a mess with my clothes scattered all over the room. Narrowing my eyes, I realize my bed is hanging somewhat off the box spring.
Who could’ve done this, and more importantly, why did they do it?
My first thought goes to Jacob, but the last time I spoke to Ally, she said he’s still in the States.
Sighing, I shake my head, go back to the door, lock the deadbolt and bottom lock, put my keys on the table, and toe-off my shoes. I walk into the kitchen, grab a trash bag, and start cleaning up the mess that I call my apartment. It’s going to be a lot of work, but I don’t want to take the chance of anyone seeing the mess or asking any questions.
It doesn’t take me too long to get the living room area cleaned up. The stuffing from the pillows was everywhere, but that was the easiest to grab and toss in the bag. The shards of glass, on the other hand, were much more complicated. Whoever did this must’ve thrown it with such force that the glass scattered across the room. Finally, after I think I’ve gotten most of the glass, I lean down and pick up a sizeable shard in my hands. I can just toss it in the bag. I pick it up and end up stepping on a piece and cut the bottom of my foot.
While I try to make sure I got the glass out of my foot, someone knocks on my door.
Oh no.
I hope that’s not Ruslan or Sascha.
It can’t be them; they have a key and can waltz right in whenever they want to. Same goes for Kronid and Dema.
Heart racing, I hobble over to the door, check the peephole, and bite my lip at who’s standing on the other side.
Michail.
Unlocking the door, I open it enough to peek out to look at him. “What are you doing here?”
“Can I come in? I brought dinner.” Michail holds a bag up in one hand. The stern expression on his face tells me he’s not going to take no for an answer.
Biting my lip, I step back enough for him to come in.
Michail steps in and closes the door behind him before looking around. “Why do you have a trash bag full of stuffing?” he asks upon seeing the bag. I look over to what he’s focusing on and curse under my breath. Fuck, I thought I tied it up already.
“I don’t know. I came home to the mess,” I murmur, leaving out the bit about someone being in my apartment.
“Did you call anyone?” he mutters, growing angry. Setting the bag of food on the table, Michail turns in front of me and scans over my body. When his eyes get to my feet, he stops. “Your foot is bleeding.”
“Yeah, I was trying to make sure I got the glass out before you knocked on the door,” I say sheepishly.
Michail advances on me quickly, pulls me up into his arms, and sits me on the counter. He then looks at my foot. Touching around the tender area where I cut myself. “Looks like you did. Do you have a first aid kit?”
I nod and tell him where it is. My mind is whirling right now with thoughts of Michail and how much I enjoyed him lifting me up. I shouldn’t have, though, not with the way the last few days have been, but he brought dinner over, which means it’s a peace offering, right?
When Michail comes back, he sets the kit next to me, then proceeds to silently clean up the wound and bandages it.
“Thank you,” I whisper when he finishes.
“You’re welcome. Want to tell me what happened here?” he rasps just as softly. His body is so close to mine. He’s standing so close to me I can feel his hot breath hitting my forehead and peer up at him through my thick lashes.
“I don’t know what happened. I think someone was here, but I don’t know who or why,” I utter words I didn’t think I’d tell him. For some reason, I just do. I find I trust him in a way I didn’t think I would. It doesn’t hurt his cologne is strong, a mixture of sandalwood and vanilla, which only makes me spellbound by him. I don’t have to tell him anything, but I find myself wanting to.
“Anything missing? This the only room messed up?” he asks, slowly lifting a hand to brush a strand of hair behind my
