Page 10 of Dragon Bodyguard
“That is it,” she confirmed. “I’m here to fill out the silences, if there are any.”
“No bigger responsibility than that?”
“Nope.”
“That sounds a little sad.”
She barked a laugh, sinking down further in her seat, as if to underline to him how little his idea of what constituted sadness mattered to her. He supposed what he thought of it all shouldn’t matter to her. Had she come here to gloat? Show him how discarding him had been the right choice for her, securing her a seat at the table.
“You know, I really like this time of day,” he said. “My coffee, the paper. It’s a bit of a ritual.”
“Oh. And here I’ve come and ruined it for you.”
She pouted in mock remorse.
“Yeah, you have, actually,” he said. “May I have my paper, please?”
She glanced at the paper still in a heap on the ground. It wasn’t exactly within reach, but it was damn sure closer to her than it was to him. And he wasn’t going to get up to retrieve it.
“No,” she raised one shoulder in a shrug, closing her eyes, tilting her head back to enjoy the sun on her face.
“Right, shall we cut the bullshit, then? I’m not sure what your attitude is all about, but I’m not really in the mood for it,” he said. “So, if you have something to say, just spit it out.”
Finally, this produced a reaction as her gaze grew hot with irritation.
Good. Let’s have some goddamn honesty.
Chapter 4 - Kristina
She’d almost thought better of it. She’d headed into this confrontation after riling herself up for half an hour, pacing the bathroom of her guestroom, telling her reflection in the mirror that it was now or never and reminding herself of how he had used her, discarded her. How she’d wanted to tell him exactly what he could do with his ambition ever since the last time she saw him, which she hadn’t even known was the last time because he hadn’t been able to do her the courtesy of breaking it off with her to her face.
All of these details were cause for her to want to knock him down a peg or two, but the way he’d ignored her the day before had been the bitter icing on the bitterest cake. She wasn’t about to slice that cake up and eat it by herself. She wanted to dish it out.
So, with determination, she had left the guestroom for the garden. Aleksander wouldn’t be up this early; she’d been certain she’d find Misha alone, especially since Misha had always been up this early. He seemed stuck in the same old grooves he’d always traversed.
She had kept that energy up until he made that wide-eyed face after she grabbed the paper. It was a face he’d always made whenever she was surprising him, taking him off-guard by some witty banter or other. The expression had, back then, unfailingly preceded one of those wide grins of his. When no such grin appeared this time, the steam had sort of been knocked out of her arguments and she’d taken a seat. Feeling stupid for not simply telling him exactly how he’d made her feel when he left her high and dry, rather than making this odd song and dance of it.
She could have been done already, she could have been marching right back out of the garden again, set on never speaking to him about any of it again.
And now here she was, doing the complete opposite. She was going so far as to slip into old habits, feeling curious about whether the life he’d wanted for himself, rather than a relationship and possible future with her, had been everything he’d thought it would be.
Was there even a smidgeon of regret in him?
She’d had to conclude that there most likely wasn’t. And this conclusion had brought on other thoughts. Like was that what she had thought might happen if she showed her face? That he’d finally feel regret over giving her up?
She’d almost gotten to her feet and left at that point in the conversation, but then he’d asked her what exactly it was that she did for her father and, lacking a good enough answer, she’d lied through her teeth. She had no idea what she did for her father. But she didn’t want Misha to know that or to even get so much as a whiff of it. He’d called it sad, and she’d felt like he was entirely correct in that summation.
Because it was sad.
And now he was trying to push her into honesty, rather than the song and dance. He was demanding to know if there was anything specific; she had to tell him this morning, wanting to go back to his coffee and paper.
So, because she was already on the defensive about the whole ‘sad’ view of her life, she wanted him to understand that she thought he was the sadder one.
Which was why she got to her feet and, in response to his request for her to spit out whatever it was that she had to say to him and be done with it, she said, “I regret ever meeting you.”
His expression hardened. She hadn’t expected that. She hadn’t thought that her words would have any sort of impact at all. The night before, at dinner, she’d waited for him to show. When he didn’t, she’d found a moment to casually inquire where he was. Seemed he’d run off to the city on some important errand, and she’d assumed it was to avoid her. It had infuriated her that he could get to make that choice, when she’d already decided that what she needed out of this trip was to tell him how little she thought of him. If he decided to avoid her, then there would be nothing for her to do but leave without having gotten off her chest what she needed to get off it.
She’d told herself there was always the rose garden.
