Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 68931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
My words are barely audible, but he understands. His eyes gleam in the darkness as a mocking curve appears on his lips. “Attending the premiere of the film, same as you. My company provided the majority of the funding, after all.”
Lion Holdings. Leonov. Of course.
I open my mouth, only to close it. Maybe it’s the pot muddling my thoughts, but I can’t think of a single response that wouldn’t sound moronic. The obvious question is why he’d fund my friend’s movie, but I already know the answer.
It’s part of his revenge scheme, this elaborate, ongoing punishment he’s devised for me. It wasn’t enough for him to have his henchmen stalk me from a distance and off any man who tried to get close to me. Oh, no. That was too merciful, so he’s invaded my life in this new, even more disturbing way.
He doesn’t wait for my reply. Turning away, he settles back in his seat and fixes his gaze on the screen, as if he’s actually here for the movie and not to drive me mad.
I’m so stunned I keep staring at him, taking in his strong profile and the way his dark hair has gotten longer in the front, how his tux hugs his powerful shoulders and the way he takes up the entirety of his seat and then some, commanding every inch of the space around him. Belatedly, I become cognizant of the way my heart thuds loudly against my ribcage and how my lungs fight for air with stiff, shallow breaths, so I tear my gaze away and fix it unseeingly on the screen as I try to think past the shock and make sense of what’s happening.
Alexei Leonov has funded Risha’s movie, and now he’s here, sitting next to me. Does that mean he’s decided he wants me again? Or has he never stopped wanting me and has just been biding his time?
What does it mean that he’s stayed away for three-plus years, and now he’s less than a foot away from me?
I want to get up and run, to escape to the safety of my apartment, but there’s no way I’d be able to explain my sudden departure to Risha. Or to Giles, who’s flown all the way from California to attend our friend’s big US premiere. Or to Natasha, who’s currently sleeping off her jet lag in my bed and will ask all sorts of probing questions if I return home three hours early.
Besides, I don’t want to give Alexei the satisfaction of knowing how deeply he’s unsettled me. Let him think I’m as unbothered by his presence as he seems to be by mine. After all, I’m a Molotov, and we’ve survived everything from Mongol invasions to the Communist regime. What’s a two-hour movie next to your enemy in comparison?
Pulling in a deep breath, I attempt to focus on the drama unfolding on the screen, but it’s futile. The air I inhale brings with it a faint whiff of his cologne, and though we’re too far apart for me to feel the warmth of his body, I’m aware of him on that primitive, purely animal level, his proximity making my nerves vibrate like guitar strings. Worse yet, I can feel the treacherous heat gathering under my skin, speeding my heart rate and soaking my silk thong. That carnal, sexual part of me that I’ve been all too happy to ignore in recent years has reawakened, and no matter how hard I try to focus on the movie, all I can think about is him. His hands. His body.
The way he made me feel on my eighteenth birthday, back when I was still mostly whole.
A shudder ripples over my skin as the memories threaten to invade my mind, and I focus my gaze on Alexei again, choosing the lesser evil. He turns his head in that moment as well, and our eyes meet, the flickering light from the big screen alternately highlighting and hiding the stark lines of his face, the dangerous gleam in his black-diamond eyes. My breath shallows out again, my lungs battling to pull in enough oxygen, and I feel dizzy from the heat burning inside me… from the intensity of the need that makes my core pulse with an empty ache.
His gaze drops to my throat, then trails down to my collarbones and the exposed swells of my breasts, pushed up by the tight bodice of the dress. My mouth goes dry, and I swallow hard. The built-in bra is too thick to betray the erect state of my nipples, but I’m breathing fast and he can see that. He can tell how agitated I am, how helplessly turned on.
I want to look away, to pretend I don’t feel the magnetic pull between us, but it’s impossible. As his eyes return to mine, I can no more turn away than sprout wings and fly. All I can do is sit there, quivering, as he slowly, deliberately, reaches over and lays his left hand on my right thigh, exactly where my skirt is slit, exposing a sliver of bare skin.