Page 8 of Breaking Away

In my head, Lokhov’s eyes are dark, evil, and tar-like. And he’s tall and menacing, with his darker hair, darker brows, and a chiseled jaw sporting the darkest of stubble. Thick muscled arms are covered in tattoos so densely packed I’d have to stick my nose against his skin to figure out the inked shapes.

His eyes flick to my mouth, linger, and then pull back up.

That little gesture does… something to me. Awareness trickles through my body like a soft, puzzling, drizzle. I suck in a shallow breath, confused. There’s a stumble of a pulse.

Quickly I bite my lip, needing pain to remind myself why I’m here. Anger and righteousness refire, and I forcibly stoke those feelings higher. My backpack goes down on the ground. Like an athlete warming up—which I am nowhere close to being—I roll my shoulders.

My feet move as I circle him slowly.

We’re in an absurdly spacious penthouse that could include an Olympic-sized swimming pool if it so desired. Skimming my gaze around, I count three separate living spaces with their own couches. The kitchen has an onyx island that could fit multiples of me on the midnight marble. Looking past the furniture, there is a city skyline spreading out a decadent view of twinkling lights reflecting off the water. Stepping out onto the balcony, I bet you could walk a whole, long circle around the penthouse and see the stars from any angle. It looks like it wraps around the whole unit.

That’s not why I’m here.

Coming back to face him again, I put my meanest sneer on. “I’m about to punch you, Lokhov?—”

The diagonal scar notching the fullness of his upper lip twitches.

“—because you nearly cost my fiancé his career.”

4

DMITRI

Kavi Basra bargesinto my hotel room and makes me forget my pain. I can’t breathe, but I don’t care. Her hair is not as bright pink as before, but her mouth is still full and fucking kissable. I stare as she yells.

“You deserve to be punched! Not that I’ll hit you, because that’s sinking to your level. But don’t get comfortable either, because I could!”

My face tilts back, broadcasting blunt arrogance.Take a shot, Princess.

She stops circling and glares. “Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?”

No. There’s nothing to say, because she shouldn’t be here. She’snotmy princess. We shouldn’t be talking, and I should not be noticing the neckline of her top or the taut fabric stretching over her curves. I rip my eyes away like I’ve always had to, pretending she doesn’t exist.

“I see,” she snaps. “You’re the same, but bigger and meaner. Why did I expect something different?”

A concave feeling in my chest takes a second to understand. Disappointment? It better not be.

“What you did tonight was unacceptable.” Her hands move in the air. “Pure macho bullshit. Utter neanderthal garbage.”

She’s talking about the fight with Smith. I assumed that’s why she was here, but the confirmation pisses me off. Did he send her? Is it his plan? To use her to mess with my head so I can’t play properly?

It’ll work. And this is the last thing I need.

The only thing that matters is my contract getting renewed. That’s why fighting Smith was a massive clusterfuck.

Bruised hip. Ribs. Shoulder.

I was fucking lucky my knee didn’t get hit. If it got caught in the cross-fire, then I’d fall down like my old man with his buried dreams.

“Are you listening to me, Lokhov?”

She’s still talking. Does her mouth ever stop?

“There are ways to get into a player’s head, but not likethat.”

I sneak a peek. Her cheeks are flushed.I see. She’s been drinking. That makes more sense. It means the real Kavi Basra is out of her cage, too caught up to overthink and downplay her opinions.

“He was skating away and then you went after him,” she yells.

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