Page 122 of Thorns of Lust
“You tell me,” he answered. “It certainly wounds my ego that I’m so unmemorable.”
My eyes lingered on him and my lips curved into a smile. “Your ego seems intact.”
The corners of his lips lifted and butterflies took flight in my stomach.
“You can go now,” Konstantin ordered Yan who stood firmly at the gate. “I’ll keep her safe in my own home.”
Yan didn’t move until I flickered my eyes his way. “I’ll call you, Yan. Go spend the day with your family.”
“Your brothers–”
“Leave my brothers to me.” Then I smiled to soften my demand. “Go ahead. I’m fine here.” I waited until he was gone before I continued, “Tour of your ancestral home then?”
I didn’t think either one of us wanted to talk about our brothers. He wrapped his hand around mine and pulled me into his home. Then to my astonishment, a secret door opened and he led me into a dark hallway.
“Am I safe here?” I joked, glancing around as the door shut behind me. “Or is this the tour of secret passages?”
“I want you to know all the ins and out of this place,” he explained. “Besides, this is the quickest way to the bedroom.”
A flame filled my stomach with flutters and my heart stumbled over itself. Illias’ gaze filled with darkness, thrilling and consuming. The heat in his gaze matched the fire burning through my veins.
I had been playing with fire. We both knew it, but the stubborn part of me wanted to see how long I could play without getting burned.
The truth was, I wanted to be here for him. Intentionally or not, Illias was there for me when I was hurting. He pulled me through. So maybe I could make him feel good now while he’s hurting. I took his hand into mine and squeezed as he resumed walking down the secret passage until we reached the hidden bedroom entrance.
He pulled me against his chest, his grip tight, but I didn’t mind it. I loved his hard body pressed against mine. The platform spun us, up and up, but all I could focus on was his hard, beautiful face.
The moment it stopped, we were inside the room and I reluctantly took a step back, already missing the heat of his body. My eyes traveled over the massive space.
A black double door stood closed on the other side, which would be our normal way in here. The room was dominated by a large bed. The largest I’d ever seen. The decor was masculine with black and gold tones everywhere. Black molding against the white walls. A mirror against the black ceiling. An enormous black leather sectional sofa that took up the sitting room connected to the bedroom and faced a massive flat-screen tv that looked like it receded into the wall.
Then a black lacquer cabinet bar that held more booze than some local bars.
Tantalizing. Tempting.
Developing a habit was easy. It wasn’t as easy to quit it as it was to pick up the habit. Just a whiff of it and my mouth would water.
But then it hit me. I hadn’t had a drop of alcohol since Russia. I savored the revelation and the hope that bloomed with it. Maybe I hadn’t fallen so low to turn into an alcoholic. Truthfully, I hadn’t felt a craving for it. More likely, they were replaced with the taste of Illias.
One addiction replaced with another.
I shook my head. No, it wasn’t true. It was just healing.
“What is in that pretty head of yours?” Illias’ voice called out to me. I slowly turned around to find him leaning against the white column, his hands in the pockets of his impeccable, expensive suit.
I let my eyes take him in for the first time with a clear mind. I really took him in, and for the first time ever, I see the similarities between Adrian and Illias.
Not in their physical appearances. Adrian’s green eyes and dark hair were a far cry from Illias’ dark eyes and even darker hair. But it was in their cheekbones. Their mouths. The way they both frowned. Even some mannerisms.
“That couldn’t be,” I rasped, whether to him or myself, I didn’t know. “It’d be insane.”
“What’s insane?” he demanded to know.
I shook my head, unwilling to tell him these thoughts that refused to vacate my brain.
“Nothing,” I muttered. “I’m just sorry you have to go through this.” I chewed on my bottom lip nervously. It’d do neither one of us any favors if we avoided talking about Maxim. “Losing your brother.”
Maxim might have been a lunatic, but he was still his brother. I loved my brothers for all their faults, just as they loved me.
