Page 75 of Wicked Proposal
Not as long as she’s mine.
23
YULIAN
When I step into the underground ring beneath the Goldenrod, the crowd roars.
It drowns out everything else. Drowns out my thoughts, too, which means it’s working.
But soon, the images resurface.
Mia, with Ieronim’s hands on her.
Mia, frozen in terror.
Mia, looking at me afterwards like I was a hero.
But I’m no fucking hero. Never have been, never will be.
And this—violence, blood, the cold snap of broken bone—is a reminder that I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
Certainly not home with her.
It’s been a week since it happened. A week since I dragged her out of that meeting, lost out on potential billions, and shoved her into the backseat of my Maybach.
A week since she spoke those words to me.
The car ride is quiet. Too quiet. I’ve never struggled with silence, but as Mia fidgets with her sleeves at my side, I realize I’m not good with this one. A silence that could mean anything.
I want to know what Mia’s thinking. If she’s okay. If she’s not. If she’s about to cry. If she’s only holding it in because she doesn’t want to look bad in front of me.
She has no idea she could never.
That thought surprises me. Catches me off-guard like a sucker punch. As the engine purrs beneath us, I wonder when exactly I stopped thinking of Mia like a nuisance and started thinking of her as aperson.
Maybe I didn’t.
Maybe tonight’s just getting to me.
“We’re here,” Maksim calls from the driver’s seat. “Your stop, Miss.”
She gives Maks a quick nod, but stays where she is. Slowly, her blue eyes find mine.
“Do you want to come upstairs?”
“Hellooo?” Maksim snaps his fingers in front of my face. “Earth to Yulian?”
I shake myself out of those thoughts. Turns out, a roaring crowd is not an effective remedy against Mia Winters. Whatever the cure for that disease is, it hasn’t been found yet.
“Do that again and I’ll bite them off,” I warn him.
“Oh, good, he’s back.” Maksim winks. “Thought I’d lost you for a second there, buddy.”
“Call me ‘buddy’ one more time and I’ll?—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” My second waves a hand to cut me off mid-threat, still grinning from ear to ear. “That’s the Yulian we all know and fear.”
He starts taping my hands. I don’t let other people touch me unless it’s absolutely necessary, but this is a little tradition of ours. When I was just starting out, a kid of nineteen with a lot of anger and nowhere to put it, Maksim was always there for me.
