White Nights (White Nights 1)

“Stay,” he murmurs, nuzzling my neck.

A heated shiver ripples down my spine. “Why? You got what you wanted.”

“I told you, I want more.”

“Because whatever you pulled up on me last night confirmed I’m not a threat to you?”

He blows out a long breath, letting it feather along the arch of my neck. “Even if you were a threat, I’d still want more.”

Those words should soothe me, but I’m too bruised inside. A part of me wishes I’d heeded the storm in his eyes, but I wanted the truth.

“Let me go.” My words are more of a plea than an order.

He heaves a sigh. “You’re right. I should’ve told you. It’s standard procedure, so much of a norm for me that I forget how it must feel for an outsider like you.”

“I need…” I bite my lip, considering where this leaves us. “I need time.”

“Time.” He says it like the world rests on his shoulders. “Sure. Of course. I understand.”

I wait, but he doesn’t let go of my hand. He cups it over the doorknob for another few seconds before he turns the knob and steps away. Cold air rushes down my back as the distance between us lengthens. The door swings open, and a blast of icy air hits me in the face. The wind is strong today, making the chilly fall weather feel even colder.

In the light of day, I notice the manicured front garden and the fountain with a statue of a fallen angel I didn’t notice in the dark last night. The angel is draped over the fountain steps, her marble dress dragging in the dirt. One intricate wing is broken, hanging torn at her side. The sight is so sad it jostles my heart, making the tears I’m trying to hold back spill over my cheeks.

The black car from yesterday is parked at the curb. Yuri stands next to it as if he’s always waiting to drive Alex on command. Alex follows me out and opens the door for me. I manage to wipe my palms over my cheeks before I slide into the back seat, where he’d almost undressed me.

He leans down, catching my eyes as I shift all the way to the other side. “It was—” He gives a soft smile and a short shake of his head, as if catching himself. “Tell me I’ll see you again.”

I can’t. I can’t make a promise if I’m not certain about keeping it. “Alex.” My voice holds a plea.

“Fine, Katyusha. You want time? You win.” The line of his jaw sharpens as his mouth sets in a determined line. “But rest assured, I’ll call you. Very soon.” He taps the roof of the car. “For now, my driver will take you wherever you want to go.”

When he straightens and closes my door, the driver takes off. I dare a look over my shoulder. Alex stands on the pavement, staring after the car with his hands shoved into his pockets. A lump swells in my throat, and a sharp sense of loss stabs into my heart.

Despite what he said, the look he wears says I won’t see him again.

9

My mom bustles around the bedroom, shoving outfits into a suitcase and pulling them out again.

I finish folding a wrap and a matching bathing suit and lay them neatly in her suitcase before flopping down on the bed. “Stop fussing. Whatever you wear, you always look pretty. Besides, it’s Mexico. You probably don’t need more than this swimsuit and wrap.”

“Oh”—she waves a hand—“I’ll just go naked when we’re at the condo. It’s the evenings I’m worried about. Martin said there are a few lovely restaurants to try.”

I groan, making a face. “TMI, Mom. Way TMI.”

She stops to smooth a hand over my hair like she used to when I was little. “What about you, honey? Are you still going through a dry spell after that horrible Tony? Why don’t you let me set you up on a date?”

It’s as if a spike pierces my chest every time I think of my disastrous one-night stand. Well, not all of it was disastrous. Just the honesty part, the part where the man who fucked me thought me capable of spying on him. As if I’d even know what to look for.

“Katie?” Mom gives me one of her worried looks. “Did you hear what I said?”

I plaster a smile on my face. “I’m too busy at the moment.”

That’s not a lie. I’ve been cramming my shifts to the brink, working around the clock. It’s been two days since our date, if I can call it a date, and I haven’t heard from Alex. We didn’t exchange numbers, but he knows where to get hold of me. Not that I want him to. Or do I? I wanted time to think, and now that I have it, I’m doing my best to avoid thinking by working myself to exhaustion. When I get home, I barely have enough energy to drag myself to bed.