Anton (Chicago Blaze 1) - Page 37

“Anton,” I say, my tone soft but firm. “I’ll take an Uber.”

He nods, his shoulders dropping a little as he turns to put the plates in the sink.

“I’ll walk you downstairs and wait with you,” he says.

He stands next to me in the elevator, both of us leaning against the back wall.

“Tonight was good,” he says, clearing his throat. “For me, I mean.”

“It was good for me, too.” I smile and stare straight ahead, unable to look at him because I know I’ll think about moving closer if I do.

“Just good?” There’s laughter in his tone. “It wasn’t the best you’ve ever had?”

My cheeks warm as I answer. “The nachos were, but I can’t say the movie was.”

“Hmm. We’ll have to work on that.”

I glance over at him and he winks. My stomach does a quick flip before the doors open and I turn to face forward again. Anton doesn’t usually flirt with me, and I find I like this side of him.

“Uncle Dix really likes you, you know,” he says as we wait in the lobby of his building for my Uber to arrive.

“I like him, too.”

“I like him about ten percent of the time,” he cracks.

“He’s really proud of you. You should hear him when we watch your games on TV.”

“You watch them, too?”

“Yes. I like watching with Dix. He knows his hockey.”

“He played in high school. He wasn’t the best from what I’ve heard, but he had to be the all-time chirping champion.”

I laugh hard at the visual. “Can you imagine?”

“Bet he told every single opposing player, individually, about the filthy things their mothers did to him the night before.”

When my Uber driver pulls up, Anton glances in the car at him and apparently approves because he opens the rear passenger door for me to get in.

“Let me know you made it home okay,” he says.

“I’ll be—”

He cuts in. “I know, fine. Just text me, okay?”

I nod.

“’Night, Mia.”

“See you in the morning.”

I feel warm during the ride home. I never would’ve thought I’d feel so at home spending a Saturday evening with one of Adam’s teammates and his curmudgeonly uncle, but I did. Anton is nothing like Adam. And I sense that Dix wears his armor for a reason. Maybe someday he’ll want to tell me why.

It’s bitterly cold on this late December night, and I hurry into my building and up to the apartment, quickly locking the door behind me.

It’s quiet inside. I peek in the door of Anita’s bedroom since the door is open and see Dre curled up under the covers, asleep with the soft glow of a bedside light illuminating his face.

I’m getting really attached to that kid. But the closer we get, the more I mourn the fact that I can’t have babies of my own.

“Mia?” Anita calls from inside the bathroom.

“Yeah, it’s me. I just got home.”

“I’m just getting out of the shower,” she says. “There’s mac and cheese on the stove if you’re hungry.”

“Thanks, but I’m good.”

I head into the kitchen to see if there are dishes to wash. Anita’s usually a dishwashing ninja—they barely even hit the sink before she’s scrubbing them clean—but occasionally I manage to wash some for her.

There’s a knock on the door before I even make it all the way to the sink. I go look through the peephole and see our neighbor Lilian from across the hall. She’s an older woman, and she looks upset.

“Anita, it’s Lilian,” she says in a rush. “Can I come in please?”

I unlock the deadbolt and open the door.

“Lilian, are you—”

My heart falls to my feet when I see Adam next to her. He wasn’t visible from the peephole. His dark eyes are bloodshot, which means he’s probably drunk. The blackness of them projects pure hatred towards me, and terror races through my veins.

“Mia, I’m sorry,” Lilian says tearfully. “He was going to hurt my dog if I didn’t do it.”

“Get out of here,” Adam says to her, his gaze on me. “And if you call anyone, I’ll come back and break that fucking dog’s neck.”

Lilian is weeping as she shuffles back to her apartment door. Adam lunges toward me, forcing me to take a few steps back. He slams the door and stalks forward, shoving me toward the kitchen so hard I fly across the floor and then land in a heap.

“You’re fucking Anton Petrov? Really, Mia?” His tone is loaded with fury.

“I work for him,” I say weakly.

The strong, confident Mia is nowhere to be found. When Adam gets angry, I revert back to the terrified woman he made me.

“Don’t fucking lie to me.” He draws back his foot and kicks me hard in the stomach. The force of it leaves me gasping for air. “I started following you after my attorney got the divorce papers. That fucker’s bankrolling you, isn’t he?”

Tags: Brenda Rothert Chicago Blaze Romance
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