Page 77 of Untamed

“I know.” I reach for the coffee. It unnerved me the first time he gave me one because he knew exactly how I took it.

But now? I love that.

We eat in amiable silence. I know we’re heading back soon, but I don’t want to leave this cabin. We just got here.

“Why the pout?” He bops me on the nose and raises a brow.

“I was just thinking I like it here. I think I got… used to my shitty apartment. It’s home, and I tried to make it look nice, but being in a rustic cabin that looks like a modern-day rendition ofLittle House on the Prairie,and I realize I’ve been living in the slums.”

The dark shadow that crosses his face and his grunt of agreement tell me all I need to know. He’s never tried to hide how he felt about my apartment.

Also, and I will not admit this to him, not yet, but—it felt so fuckingperfectsharing a bed with him. I never knew if I’d like sharing a bed with a man, but sharing a bed with Rodion?Heaven.He slept like a rock at my back, his heavy arm strewn across me. I was wrapped in a cocoon, blissful and content.

“Have you checked your account?” I log in while munching on a bite of bagel, crumbs scattering over the plate. Rodion’s hovering over my shoulder, his presence impossible to ignore.He’s not even touching me, but I can feel the heat radiating off him, the quiet intensity of his focus. It’s unnerving how much I like it.

As my account loads, his arm brushes against mine, and I glance up to find him staring at the screen like it might explode. “You’re practically breathing down my neck,” I tease, trying to lighten the mood. I look at my screen. “Jesus.”

“What?”

“Some troll…”

He doesn’t laugh. Instead, his face hardens as he reads the comments.

“Relax,” I say quickly, already sensing the storm brewing in him. “This is just part of the job. I deal with it all the time.”

His jaw tightens, and I know he’s about two seconds away from hunting this guy down. Before I can say anything else, another message appears—but it’s fromhisaccount.

Careful what you say. You wouldn’t want me to find out where you live.

I freeze, my bagel halfway to my mouth as my followers erupt in the comments, flooding my feed with laughing emojis, heart eyes, and the internet’s equivalent of chaotic squealing.

“Rodion!” I spin around in my chair, my voice half-scolding, half-horrified. “What did you just do?”

He shrugs, utterly unrepentant, his smirk sharp and dangerous. “Handled it.”

“Oh my god, you can’t just threaten people online!”

“Why not? He deserved it,” he says matter-of-factly, leaning down so we’re face-to-face. “Besides, they love it.”

He’s not wrong. My followers are eating this up, and the comments are a chaotic mix of admiration and envy.

Where do I get a man like this??

Protective mafia vibes?? Yes, please.

This is why I stay single. None of my exes could ever.

Before I can argue further, he straightens, his expression cooling. “We have to go.”

“I like it here,” I counter, reluctant to leave the safety of this little cabin bubble.

His gaze softens just a fraction. “Then we’ll come back. But for now, we need to move. I want to check in on your place, and you’ve got that shoot later.”

I texted him about that two days ago and can’t believe I didn’t remember it myself.

“Fine.” I sigh, packing up the remains of breakfast. “Let’s do this again though.”

The drive back to my place feels weirdly… natural. Rodion’s got some old Russian song playing low in the background, the kind of music that’s surprisingly soft, even melodic. I glance over at him—one hand resting casually on the wheel, his other lying on my thigh.

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