Page 116 of Inked Adonis

I’m at a loss. I made an emergency plan for what to do if I ran into Katerina again—yes, “screaming and running in theopposite direction” counts as a plan—but I have no idea what to do with my boyfriend’s father.

This isn’t some random creep I can tell to fuck off. This is Leonid Litvinov, the man who shaped Samuil into who he is, for better or worse.

So I sit.

Leonid Litvinov settles himself down a little closer to me than is strictly necessary and drapes one arm over the back of the bench, brushing my shoulders. The casual possessiveness of the gesture makes my skin crawl.

The dogs pace restlessly, picking up on my unease.

“I used to raise dogs,” Leonid says pleasantly.

“Right. Samuil told me you had mastiffs.”

Samuil also told me the dogs were literal demon spawn, but I don’t mention that part. Leonid’s face betrays nothing. “Beautiful dogs,” he sighs fondly. “Fierce. Violent.”

I have a strong feeling those words all mean the exact same thing to him.

A shiver moves down my spine, and I do my best to suppress it. “Is there a reason you’re here right now?”

“Curiosity, mostly.” He turns to peer down at me. “I wanted to meet the woman who has bewitched my son so thoroughly.”

Bad idea. This is a bad, bad idea.The same gut-churning dread I felt that day with Katerina in the park is back with a fucking vengeance.

“Oh, well, unfortunately, I don’t have long to chat.” I glance towards the entrance of the park like I’m expecting someone. “Sam is coming to meet me.”

Leonid just smiles. “I happen to know he’s at the rink right now.”

I almost ask how he knows that, but I’m not sure I want to know how many eyes are on me at all times.

“I’m the one who pushed him into hockey. I hoped it would be a good outlet for him—a way to channel his baser instincts. But apparently—” His eyes skim over me. “—he has different avenues for that now.”

That crisp in the air is downright frigid all of a sudden.

“He is good, though.” Leonid seems almost disappointed to admit it. “He toyed with the idea of playing professionally. But I had to quash all that silliness.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Why?”

“Because he is my son.” There’s steel in his voice now. “And as my son, he had an empire to inherit. I couldn’t allow his focus to be split. He’s too smart to be wasted elsewhere.”

Samuil is smart, but it doesn’t sound like a compliment when his father says it. It sounds more like he’s saying a knife is sharp or a car is fast.

To Leonid, Samuil is a tool. A thing to be manipulated and used for whatever he needs.

An object.

Not a person.

“But even the smartest of men can have blind spots,” Leonid continues, angling himself towards me. “I fear you might be one of them.”

I grip the dogs’ leashes a little tighter, scooting back to the edge of the bench. “If you’re here to accuse me of being a spy, don’t bother. Been there, done that. I’m not, and Sam knows it. He trusts me.”

“Mm.” Leonid’s eyes narrow. “You seem like a smart woman, too. That’s why I know you won’t be shortsighted enough to refuse the offer I’m about to make you.”

I stand abruptly, both dogs plastering themselves to my legs. “Whatever you’re selling, I’m not interested.”

“Five hundred thousand dollars.”

The air races out of my lungs. “Excuse me?”

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