Only You (Sweet Torment 2)

But it was when my eyes watered . . . just enough to realize I was closer to tears than I’d been in a long time, I sat up straight and wiped my sleeve over my eyes.

“Power respects power,” I said to myself.

I may have had no one on my side, no one to turn to, no one to even go up against. But I would stay strong. Crumbling now would be defeat.

I thought of Leo. Of his eyes. The way he saw through me, into me.

It was a problem that only made me feel weak. But weak in a way that was addicting. Because right then, the only thing that sounded like it could cure all my woes and allow me to disappear into something better, was him.

I rubbed my hands

along my shoulders and no matter how hard I tried, I was still cold. Ever since the night at the bar, I hadn’t been able to get truly warm unless I was in his presence.

And that made the ice in my stomach hurt even worse.

Chapter Eleven

I had just brushed my teeth and put on my pajamas when a loud booming knock came at my front door.

I opened it to find Leo. A very pissed-off Leo.

Tilting my head, I examined the damp stain down the front of his shirt. He smelled like vodka.

“You’re all wet,” I said, and leaned against my doorjamb.

His blue eyes were wild. “Yes. That is because I got to dinner just in time for Bepa’s roses to come. Her twelve roses. Which is when I got a drink thrown in my face.”

I raised my brow. “My, my, that sounds awful.”

He took a step toward me. “I specifically told you thirteen roses.”

I tapped my chin and glanced at the ceiling. “My silly mind. Surely I am better with details like that. Especially when you made such a big deal about it. Which is why I may or may not have Googled something about Russians and flowers. Did you know that in Russia, an even number of flowers are only given at funerals, lest they invite death?”

“Yes,” Leo growled. “I did know that. And Bepa knew I knew that and took this action as very offensive.” He went to say more, then stalled as his gaze swept over me. “Is that what you wear to bed?”

I frowned down at myself. My oversize NYU T-shirt hit mid-thigh and my comfy gray socks came just over my knees. Paired with a nest of red curls on top of my head and no makeup . . . I swallowed down an instant feeling of uncertainty.

If I typically donned a power suit, this was my clown getup.

“Yes,” I said with all the confidence I could muster. Which was hard, considering I wasn’t wearing pants.

He nodded and that wild look in his eyes turned a little more wild. But in a desirable way.

“You know, if you didn’t want me going out with Bepa, you could have just admitted you like me and are jealous.”

“I am not jealous.” So she was a supermodel with legs longer than my entire body. Naturally someone of Leo’s wealth, power, and ridiculous good looks would date her.

“That’s all you have to say?” Though Leo’s tone was rough, and anger tinted it, his body took on a whole different demeanor. His shoulders straightened and his hips subtly thrust out with every inch he took toward me and farther into my house. Hips that were lined with a black leather belt and black pants that accented his long legs. I knew what kind of muscles he was hiding. Sure, I may not have gotten a good look in the past, but I’d felt it.

And in that moment, that was all I was thinking about.

“Was there something else you wanted me to say?” I said on a strangled breath.

“Well, you didn’t defend against liking me.” When I opened my mouth to do just that, he cut me off. “And don’t make a liar out of yourself, Red. You’re better than that.”

The challenge was issued and heat bloomed in my chest. Anger, rage, want, lust. All of it flooded. I hated the way he made me feel. Hated that I lost my judgment around him. Hated that I wanted him so much. Hated the world spinning around me and the lack of control I seemed to have daily.

I wanted my control back. Wanted to feel . . . wanted. Like there was someone left in the world who valued me. That I wasn’t this plague of a person with a bad past, bad present, and bleak future.