I hustle her down the stairs, my hand on the pistol in my waistband in case we meet anyone along the way. “I will help Zane when I know you’re safe,” I promise reluctantly. The douche doesn’t deserve saving, but I can’t stand Chelle being frantic over his safety.
Besides, the danger to her won’t end until Zane’s problem is solved.
I get her into my car and take off, going zero to sixty in under four seconds—my favorite reason for having a Tesla.
“I’m sorry, Chelle,” I say. I don’t want to apologize. I want to blame it all on Zane, but he’s right. I played a part in this shit.
I feel her golden-eyed gaze on the side of my face but don’t look because I’m weaving in and out of cars, racing to get back to the Kremlin where Chelle will be safe.
“What are you sorry for?” Her voice is a hoarse whisper, like she’s terrified of hearing my answer.
“Involving you,” I say. “I never would have hurt you, zayka. I don’t harm the innocent. But I made Zane think I would. Now he’s acted out of desperation to save you from me.”
She lets out an audible breath. “What did he do?” The break in her voice kills me.
“I don’t know.” I grind my teeth. “I’m going to find out, and I will take care of it. I’ll protect you both.”
Chelle drags in a terraced breath and then lets out a whimper, like she’s trying to keep from crying.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat because hearing her anguish makes me want to burn this entire city down.
When I get her home, she gets in the shower, and I try to call Zane, but the little asshole doesn’t pick up. I call one of our soldiers and ask him to go over to Chelle’s place and fix the door. “Bring back-up,” I warn.
Chelle stays in the shower so long I figure she’s turned into a raisin. I enter the bathroom and push open the glass door to my huge walk-in shower. She’s huddled under the water, her shoulder propped against the tile wall. She’s not crying, but she looks lost.
“Zayka,” I murmur and strip out of my clothes to join her. I’ve fucked her in this shower before. Taken her roughly against these walls. But this time is different. This time I just hold her. I hold her and kiss her head. And after a stretch, I maneuver her under the spray and wash her hair.
“Nikolai,” she moans the way she does when we’re having sex, only this time it sounds more broken. Lost.
“It’s okay, Freckles. Everything is going to be okay.”
“Is it?” She turns and searches my face, and I know she’s asking about more than Zane. She’s asking something about us, only I don’t know what the question is, so I don’t know how to answer.
Does she want us to be something more?
Could she be with a man like me?
Or is she saying she can’t do this anymore? I saw the way she stared at the gun in my hand, like she was terrified to see it. Like it was a snake that might bite her, rather than a tool to protect her.
I pick up the bar of soap and run it over her breasts, soaping them until she moans and falls against me for a different reason. I slide it down her belly, soap her ass, then squat to soap both her legs. Then I pin her against the shower wall and lick her until she screams.
When her orgasm is over, I pick her up and carry her out of the shower. I sit her on the counter and grab a towel from the rack.
“Everything is going to be okay, little bunny,” I promise, wrapping her and drying her soft skin. I’ll pay off Zane’s debts. I won’t let anyone touch you. I promise.”
“Why?” Chelle asks.
I should tell her.
I should explain what she means to me. That she’s the light in the dark corridor. She’s the magnetic axis I want to orbit around. She fills the vacuous spaces of my life.
I should say, “For you, Chelle.”
But I don’t.
I guess she’s right. I do hold my cards close to my chest. Because I don’t want to show her my hand. The one that’s all hearts. And they’re all for her.
Instead, I just leave her there in the bathroom to go and find us something for dinner. I let her decipher me all on her own.
If she can.
Chelle
I try calling Zane, but he doesn’t answer, so I text instead. What is happening? To whom do you owe money now?
When he doesn't answer, I try again. Nikolai will pay them off.
I don’t even think twice about getting in deeper with Nikolai. I don’t want to unpack it right now, but I’m probably secretly relieved our thirty days might not be over in less than two weeks. That I might owe him more.