Page 39 of Little Blue

“What did you like to do at home?” Polina asks.

“Honestly?” We’re all clinging to the silence, waiting for her reply. “I didn’t do much other than work. I liked—I like to read.”

“Reading is good.” Polina nods agreeably. “What kind of books?”

“Oh—um—” Irelynn blushes.

A flash of the mafia book she’d had on her nightstand in her despicable apartment flashes in my mind. My grin widens. Yes, Little Blue, tell us of the books you like to read.

She blunders over her words for a minute before she settles on, “I like fantasy and—um—romance.”

“Oh, a good romance.” Polina covers her heart with her hands. “I love romance.”

Irelynn smiles, because like I know, she suspects the romance she reads is nothing like the romance Polina reads.

I need to get her books. Something to fill her time, until she wishes to fill that time with me.

Daniil gets another flash of mischief in his eyes. “You are a romantic, then?”

She shrugs. “I guess.”

“You must tell me—” Polina takes a long sip of her drink. “The perfect man? Is he tall and handsome and—” she snaps her fingers. “Dark?”

A ghost of a smile pulls at her mouth before she tugs her bottom lip between her teeth. Her blue eyes drift to the window and something honest and yearning grabs the room in a chokehold she is entirely unaware of as she thinks. Then she says, “He doesn’t have to be tall or handsome or dark. He doesn’t need extreme wealth.” My chest feels tight, because she’s describing me as all that she doesn’t want. Still, I’m ensnared. “My perfect man will have arms that hold me close every night, even when I’m angry. He won’t let me pull away, and he won’t walk away from me.” My breath is lodged in my lungs. “He’ll have lips that kiss away my pain and tears. He’ll have ears that don’t simply hear my words but absorb them. He’ll consider me. But most of all, I’ll feel safe when he’s close. When I’m in his arms, I’ll never be alone. I’ll feel like the world can’t touch me. Can’t hurt me. Can’t push me down and can’t—” her words get quiet, “break me.”

Her sleepy confession from earlier today spears into me with the force of a bullet to the chest. “Smells like safety,” and the plea that followed. “Don’t go.”

The significance hadn’t touched me as I lay her in my bed, pressing a kiss to her forehead, and then her temple. I’d tasted the salt from her tears on my lips and had wanted nothing more than to do as her sleepy plea begged of me, but I’d forced myself to walk away, believing that she would repel at my nearness when she woke.

Now, after such a confession, no matter that it has found freedom on the courageous wings of a drink, the space I’ve been doing my best to offer her is null and void.

Now, I will invade. I will push until she can’t fight anymore, until she collapses against me in exhaustion. Until her conscious mind comes to accept what her unconscious heart has already come to realize: that I’m her safe place. That I will always be her safe place.

Not wishing her to know I heard her confession; I slip into the hall. As I make my way to my room, I text Luka.

Me: Bring her to my room in fifteen minutes.

His reply is instantaneous.

Luka: Yes, boss.

Eighteen

Irelynn

Gripping the handrail, I feel Luka’s hand at the small of my back as a, “Easy,” falls into the space between us.

I only had one drink, but it had been strong. I’m thinking it’d been a double, because one drink shouldn’t make the stairs suddenly appear to be doing the wave. I mutter, “The stairs are moving.”

Luka chuckles. “No, they’re not.”

Scowling, I whip my head in his direction. “You don’t see that? This place is like a fun house of horrors.”

The bark of laughter that pushes abruptly from his chest has my head tipping to the side. “You have a nice smile.”

His amusement turns to horror. “Don’t say that.”

“Why? You’re like a big teddy bear.”

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