Page 67 of Vitaly

Nothing will ever be the same.

18

MILA

Imanage to avoid Vitaly for two days.

It hasn’t been easy. In fact, if Alik hadn’t convinced Nikita that Vitaly’s true interest was Alexa Volcov, it would be impossible. I still don’t know why Alik never said anything about me leaving with Vitaly or of his suspicions concerning Alexa. If it’s pity for me, it’s unlike him to feel that.

Whatever his motivations, it’s helped my situation tremendously. Nikita’s attention has moved away from me, and he’s no longer having me play the part of soldier to show Vitaly around. I’m back to being uselessly in the background, which is the only place I want to be right now. It’s amazing what mere days can change.

The mansion is loud downstairs, music from Nikita’s playroom drifting throughout the entire first floor. The last few nights, I, thankfully, have not been asked to attend the little parties he throws to feed his fucked-up pleasures, and I think it’s because heactuallyfeels guilty. He’s been tossing crumbs of affection I can’t stomach with a blank face, so he too has been avoided.

As I make my way toward the stairs, I creep past Vitaly’s room, holding my breath as if he might hear my lungs work.It’s eleven, and most nights he’s in his room by eight, so I’m assuming he’s sleeping. He never comes to the parties or joins anyone for dinner. I’d say he’s like a teenager camped in his room, but I don’t get the sense that he’s avoiding anyone the same way I am. I think he just likes solitude.

When I get to the staircase, I let out the breath I’d been holding and glide my hand down the rail as I descend. The tile is cool against my bare feet as I make my way to the kitchen, passing a couple leaving the playroom on the way. I catch the man eyeing me in my loose cami top and pajama shorts but don’t utter a greeting or slow down.

In my room, there’s a mini fridge stocked with water and anything else I need. I miss it. I miss having my own bathroom, my own space. Most of all, I miss not having to walk all the way to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

The smell of something hits me before anyone comes into view, and I wish I had better sense. I wish I’d stop, turn around, at least peek into the kitchen before walking in and gasping like the ghost of one of Nikita’s victims is bent over the pot at the stove.

A shirtless Vitaly, ladle in hand, turns to me with a quizzical tilt of his head. “Good evening, Mila.”

My feet turn to bolt, but I know how ridiculous that would be. I would look like a little girl running away from her crush.

Internally, I cringe.

Clearing my throat, I point my feet back toward him and give a little wave. “Hello.”

He goes back to stirring the pot while I walk to the fridge like I’ve forgotten how limbs are supposed to sway. I feel awkward. Stiff. My arms stick to my sides like they’re too heavy, and when I open the fridge, it feels like I need to oil my elbows.

I duck my head inside the fridge, feeling the smallest bit of reprieve as I inhale deeply.

“Are you hungry?” he asks.

When I peek over my shoulder, he’s turning off the burner and letting the ladle lean against the pot. He opens a cabinet and looks over his shoulder to get confirmation on how many bowls he should get.

The muscles surrounding his shoulder blades flex in this position, lumps of ink jutting from his skin that have my arms feeling even heavier. A pair of shorts hang around his waist, and his hair is damp like he’s showered recently.

He’s … handsome. He’sreallyhandsome. This isn’t the first time I’m noticing, but it’s the first time I’m seeing him in proper lighting and admitting it to myself without hatred to taint the admiration.

His brows pull together at my non-answer, and he slides a bowl from the cabinet. “Okay then.”

I turn back to the fridge and snatch a bottle of water from the door before shutting it. I start toward the exit, but Vitaly’s velvety words stop me.

“Is everything all right?”

Is everything all right?

No. No, it isn’t.

“Of course,” I reply, automatically squaring my shoulders as I raise my defenses. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“Avoiding you?” I scoff as I turn to face him, batting my hair from my face. I command my feet to move toward him like I’m trying to prove to myself that what he says isn’t true.

“I went looking for you yesterday. One of the girls told me she’d let you know. When you didn’t come find me, I thought maybe it wasn’t safe…”

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