Page 66 of Frequency of Attraction

Quinn waited until most guests were gone before she did a lap of the silent auction tables to peek at the final bid sheets. Everything had gone for more than anticipated. OrbitAll’s auction item, a spot in the simulator with Vadim, had gone for twelve thousand dollars. She’d expected around five.

A massive hand gripped her elbow, spreading heat. She knew without looking that Vadim stood behind her. Only he could make her body react so fully. Still.

“Let me walk you back to the hotel when you’re ready.”

The venue’s cashier was already handling the line of auction winners. The band had put away their instruments. The caterers were covering chafing dishes. Quinn didn’t have any reason to stay. “I’m ready.”

They walked into balmy summer air in silence. A handful of stars danced in the dark sky, nothing like the banquet of stars in Victory but still a beautiful night. Without asking, Vadim kept his hand on the small of her back as they made their way down the hundreds of brick steps. It made for dramatic photos, she was sure, but wreaked havoc with heels.

Across the street and inside the quiet hotel lobby, she hit the elevator button for the third floor.

“I’m on your floor.”

Wonderful. Like Quinn wasn’t already going to have a hard enough time sleeping after the things he’d said.

“I’m happy for Tate and Rosie,” he commented when she didn’t reply.

“Me, too,” she agreed. “I guess that settles the curse question.”

“You’re not cursed. You’re magic.”

She frowned. “Please don’t say things like that to me, Vadim.”

“My brother died.”

The elevator door opened with a ding. Quinn, stunned, didn’t move. The door slid shut and still neither of them moved.

“What? When?”

“The day of theAeroSpaceinterview. I got the call right before. He was killed by a rival gang, or maybe his own people turned on him. I don’t know. They dumped his body on the doorstep, where my sister found him.”

Quinn’s heart lurched from her chest. He’d been a fucking mess that day and she hadn’t even asked why. She’d just cajoled him into performing. “Merde, I’m so sorry. I was mean to you when you were grieving.”

His impossibly blue eyes branded her face. “I was in a very dark place that day, Quinn. Nothing I said to you was meant for you. I was hating him and hating myself. Those words were meant for me.”

Pain radiated from Vadim’s muscular body. For a moment, he looked anything but strong. Quinn ached to banish the darkness that he didn’t deserve to carry. But she didn’t know how to fight demons like his. And despite what he said now, he’d lashed out at her. He’d wanted to cause her pain. “You didn’t deserve those words any more than I did.”

Sighing, he hit the “open door” button with the side of his fist. He walked out first, Quinn trailing behind. She had no words to alleviate the pain on his face. Still, at her door, she turned to him. “Know what I see when I look at you? A man who is always trying. You don’t accept what fate throws at you. You keep fighting to make your life better not just for yourself, but for the people around you. You’re a good example for little Mila.”

He shook his head. “I’m not. I hurt people. I sabotage myself.”

“You’re a loving father. A caring brother. A dutiful son.”

He closed his eyes against the truth.

“Quit calling yourself a failure. You only fail when you give up.”

His eyes didn’t open for a long time. Finally, he rasped out a thank you.

She moved to open the door. “Good night, Vadim.”

He snagged her hand in his and seemed to take his time examining each knuckle before bringing the back of her hand to his mouth. His lips lingered. His breath bathed her skin. Then he brought their entwined hands down to her thigh. Quinn tamped down the flash of heat in her core, even when his thumb grazed the velvet pulled tight against her thigh. And again. On the third stroke, the rising flames became harder to ignore.

She hadn’t been pandering to make him feel better. Vadim was not the failure he billed himself as. He’d built a life starting from the gutter and ending in the skies. Almost nothing had been his choice or gone his way. And yet, he’d persevered.

“Is there a chance?” The smooth skin of his cheek grazed the top of her head as he pulled her closer.

“For what?” she whispered against his chest. Skulls and the stained-glass windows of some cathedral stared back at her. Angels on high.

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