Page 50 of Devil's Thirst

“Happy to help. I’ll just take this little one back to his mama—she should be out of the shower now—and we can get started.”He crosses the living room to a hallway on the other side of the apartment and disappears.

“What did you tell him?” I whisper frantically to Sante.

“The truth. That I wasn’t comfortable with you being alone in another man’s house.” His icy, detached tone tells me he’s still upset with me. I want to fuss at him that Andrey probably thinks my boyfriend is crazy possessive rather than trying to protect me, but then I realize both are true, and Andrey’s thoughts on the matter are irrelevant.

Let him have this, Mel. You owe him that much.

“Okay,” I say reluctantly. “A heads-up would have been nice, but it’s good you’re here. You can see there’s nothing to worry about—the man has an incredibly sweet wife and a baby. He’d never hurt me.”

“If I had a dollar for every rapist and pedophile hiding behind the guise of a happy marriage, I’d be the richest man on this planet.” The chilling certainty in his tone sends a wave of goose bumps down my arms.

How can I possibly counter that argument? He makes a good point.

I chew on the inside of my cheek instead, relieved when Andrey returns moments later. He shows us back to his home studio, which is incredible. A miniature professional practice facility overlooking a corner of the park. Sante takes a seat in one of the two metal folding chairs and is immediately absorbed in his phone. I’m relieved to see he’s not planning on watching our every move. The session goes by surprisingly quickly. By the time we leave, I’m feeling much better all around.

Sante drives us home and deposits me in my apartment with instructions to eat.

“You didn’t eat enough last night, I’m sure. That’s why you looked like you were going to pass out.”

I get some lunch meat out of the fridge with a jar of mayo. “My stomach was upset,” I quip, not pleased with his tone.

“Can’t dance if you don’t eat.”

“Iknow. But as you’re about to see, I normally eat plenty.” A lifetime of remarks about my size makes it a sensitive subject.

“Good. Make one for me, too. I’ll be back in a minute.” He’s out the door before I can respond.

“Sure, you want mayo on that? Or maybe mustard?” I say to an empty room with a roll of my eyes.

True to his word, he’s back at my door a few minutes later with a loaded duffel bag and several suits on hangers.

“What’s all that for?” My mouth is half full, but I’m too distracted to care.

“My things. If you won’t tell me who or what’s going on, I have to assume the worst. That means constant supervision. So, congrats, you’ve earned yourself a roommate.” He sets down his things and joins me at the table, taking a large bite out of his sandwich.

“’Scuse me?” I gape at him, my cheeks still bulging with food. “You can’t just—” A bit of bread tries to escape down my throat, forcing me to focus on chewing before I can finish. “You can’t just move yourself into my apartment.”

The excited challenge in his stare makes my chest flutter.

“Watch me.” He accentuates his point with another large bite of his sandwich.

I’m stunned. I so did not see this coming.

There go those dominos falling willy-nilly all over the place.

“You know I don’t have a guest room.”

Sante grins wickedly. “Wouldn’t be a very effective bodyguard if I left you alone at night, especially when you’re known to have nighttime visitors.”

“No. Nope. Not happening.” I make a firm swiping motion with my hands. “I’ve given you a lot of latitude here, mister, buteven I have my limits. You can stay on the couch, and that’s final.”

His warm brown eyes stare me down like they would a chess board. “Air mattress in the bedroom.”

“Living room.Couch.”

“Fine, but the door stays open.”

“Good grief, this is not a negotiation.”

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