Page 53 of Unspoken

I continue, exhaling sharply with each rise, feeling the burn in my muscles and something fiercer in my veins. It's a dangerous game, this mingling of veiled glances and accidental touches, but it's one I can't seem to stop playing.

Then, in a calculated move, I push upward too far, my face hovering inches from Logan's. Our eyes lock, time stuttering to a halt. There’s a charged silence, filled with words unsaid and breaths not taken.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Logan grabs my arm with one hand to hold me in place, his other hand is still on my foot. His voice is low, a growl laced with anger and something else, something that sounds a lot like apprehension.

"Trying to figure you out," I reply, my heart drumming a frantic beat. This is more than just a test now; it's a precipice we’re both toeing.

"Stupid boy," he hisses. His grip tightens on my arm, fingers digging into flesh. "If we get caught, I'm the one who'll be in trouble. You're Vlad's brother—nothing will happen to you. But I’ll lose my job."

"And I could lose my life," I shoot back. Being Vlad’s brother means nothing when you don’t meet the Solovey family's expectations.

The tension holds us captive, like a physical force, until finally Logan releases me and gets up, stepping back as if scorched. I sit up, the room spinning slightly, the flutter in my stomach a confused mix of thrill and dread.

"I'll be outside," Logan says.

And with that, he leaves me alone.

It seems like yet another failed attempt on my part.

Bollocks.

I almost give up, trying to get Logan to talk to me about the kiss or anything at all for that matter. For the next few days, he’s quiet and only responds to my questions with one-syllable words.

Occasionally we’ll have a small conversation, but his deflecting skills are impressive and it’s nearly impossible to make him open up whenever the chat moves into a touchy territory.

But deep down the challenge still lives. And while I don’t actively make any plans, I use the opportunities that rise up. Like the one tonight when the house is emptier than ever with Ivan gone on some errand for Vlad and the security only patrolling the perimeter.

I find myself in the pool, testing it properly for the first time ever since I moved to Vegas.

The coolness of the water wraps around me like a blanket, each stroke a reflection of my own restless thoughts. I'mswimming to outpace them, but it's no use. Logan’s face floats into my mind again, surprised and confused.

I try to sink him with a list of flaws: too old, too simple, perpetually grouchy. Yet, every attempt to drown the idea of him only makes it bob back up, gasping for air. It's risky, this unwelcome fascination—fatal waters for a Solovey who dares to desire another man.

"You should have told me you’d be here," the voice cuts through the splashes.

I twist to see Logan standing at the pool's edge, his arms folded across his broad chest, eyes scanning the area with a vigilance that never sleeps.

"Why?" I ask, wiping the droplets from my face to see him better.

"Because Ivan's not around and I need to know where you are in case something happens."

I take a moment to think about what to say but instead of offering a lame excuse, I challenge him, "Care to join me?" My voice is oddly playful despite the tightness in my chest. "It's not all work and no play, is it?" I step forward, toward the edge of the pool where he is, and put my elbows on the tiles. He looks taller from this vantage point, taller and meaner. "The water is great."

Logan shakes his head, the faintest twitch of a smile threatening the corner of his mouth. "I'm not here to play, Sasha. Or relax."

"Well, you're missing out," I say, pushing off from the edge to float on my back, staring up at the dark sky. "You know, if I'm gonna die, I'd rather go out after a nice swim."

"Your safety isn't a joke."

"Chill, Logan. It's just a dip in the pool. Besides," my voice turns serious, "before any hitman gets within spitting distance, they'll have to face Vlad's private army."

"I have to be ready, army or not," he asserts, his gaze sweeping over the secluded area, ever the protector, while I slice through the water. "And me being wet and naked isn’t ready."

"Wet and naked sounds good to me."

Logan’s jaw clenches and red colors his cheeks.

"You said it," I shout from across the pool.

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