Page 31 of Wicked Proposal
His stormy eyes, filled with a thousand dark promises.
“I wouldn’t know,” I decide. “I haven’t seen how dangerous you are yet.”
Something passes through his eyes. Something close to amusement. “That’s for the best.”
It’s an odd close to the conversation. I feel like I’ve missed something—some crucial piece of it.
But then Yulian’s rising, leaving a few bills on the table for us, and I know the moment is over.
So I follow him out and back to the car.
“Mia.” A warm hand shakes me awake. “We’re here.”
I startle back to life. “What…?”
“We’re at your place.”
I plaster myself to the window. The sky’s much lighter now—too light. Over the horizon, dawn has already broken.
“Shit.” I fumble with my bag. At some point, Yulian must’ve slipped my phone back inside, because I can see a thousand missed calls on it. “I have to go. I’m sorry, I?—”
“It’s alright,” Yulian says. “I said you’d be mine until the sun came up. It’s not your fault that it did.”
Despite my panic, that drags a laugh out of me. Before I know what I’m doing, I find myself blurting out, “Look, I know this is really weird, but would you maybe want to—I don’t know, get coffee or?—”
Then I turn and I see it.
A big, fat wad of cash.
“For your troubles,” Yulian says coldly. “And for your service.”
Service.Right. Of course.
What was I thinking? This was work. A job—nothing more. One that I didn’t even perform that well.
What exactly was I expecting? That he’d rescue me from my shitty life? That he’d come over to my shit-stained side of the world, when his side is made of luxury cars and fashion-magazine people?
I guess I was at least expecting that he wouldn’t look at me like I meant absolutely nothing to him.
Yulian sees me hesitate. “It’s all there,” he says, as if he thinks that’s the problem.
That, right there, is my answer.
Idomean absolutely nothing to him. I never will. I’m a tool he used for a job, and now that the job is over, I am irrelevant.
I take the cash from his hands. The motion must be too abrupt, because Yulian’s eyes squint just a fraction. “Mia?—”
“Thanks,” I mumble. “Guess I won’t be seeing you around, then.”
Something settles in his expression. Somehow, it feels like a door closing.
“Guess not.”
I get out of the car, slam the door, and slump back to my side of the world.
Shit stains and all.
11
