Page 16 of Dragon Bodyguard
He contemplated not even turning around in his seat to look at her but felt it would be too rude, and the last thing he wanted was to give her a reason to complain about him to Dmitri. He wondered, briefly, if she’d stoop that low, but decided not to linger on the question. It didn’t matter what she would or wouldn’t do. He had his professional pride to consider.
So, he turned around, getting her eyes on his.
She was wearing a soft frown. Confused more than shocked.
“I’m here to keep you safe,” he replied, voice softened into a purr that he hoped she found mocking rather than reassuring, though he hadn’t quite meant for it to sound as gentle as it did. “It’s my job,” he added, tone a little sharper than before, for good measure.
The confusion left her gaze immediately, and she turned a sullen expression on the view out her window, leaving him the freedom to turn back around to face forward, eyes on the road ahead.
Oliver wasn’t much of a talker, truth be told, and Misha was relaxing into the quiet when Kristina said, “Could we put on some music or something?”
“Use your headphones,” Misha said.
“I didn’t bring them.”
“Fine, what kind of music do you want?”
“I don’t really care.”
He glanced at her over the shoulder of his seat, eyebrow cocked.
“Then why are you insisting?”
“I wasn’t,” she said, throwing her hands out to underline how she really wasn’t.
He couldn’t keep the smile down. It produced a glare, her face even more sullen as she focused away from him again, staring out the window, stubbornly ignoring him.
“All right, DJ's choice,” he said, unsure of why he was suddenly enjoying the thought of getting a continuous rise out of her for the whole ride. Nowhere to stomp off to here, was there? She’d simply have to swallow whatever he dished out. He was smiling at the thought as he switched the car radio on.
What would she absolutely hate to have to listen to?
He punched the pre-set radio stations one at a time. Rock, classical, pop and finally landed on jazz. He happened to enjoy jazz and, glancing at Oliver, the driver raised one shoulder in a shrug signaling he really couldn’t care less. Excellent. Misha knew Kristina hated jazz because he’d tried to get her to listen to it while they had their brief interlock, and she’d never warmed to it. In fact, she’d moaned whenever he put it on to ease her into it, as he’d put it.
Unfortunately, it didn’t annoy her as much as make her open her mouth.
Further conversation had been the last thing on his mind.
“Still a jazzman?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am.”
He could practically hear her roll her eyes at the use of formality. He was resolved, though, to keep it formal. Teasing her with his choice of music was one thing, verbally sparring again was something else entirely. He didn’t want to poke a fight, not when considering where that seemed to take them.
“It grows on you,” she said.
He almost turned around but kept himself facing forward. He could be stubborn, too.
“Oh, yeah?” he still couldn’t stop himself from asking.
“Yeah,” was all she offered as a reply.
He couldn’t imagine her growing fondness for jazz. But if she had… Why?
If he’d been driving, he would have stolen a glance at her in the rear-view mirror, tried to gauge her mood. It was impossible to discern it from her tone alone. He thought of his hands on her wrists, keeping her in place as she struggled. He’d wanted her to listen to him, had wanted her to recognize her place as a guest. He’d thought that he would get a different reaction from her than what he got when he told her about her stepmother coming to see him. He’d expected her to laugh, tell him yes, she sent her stepmother because she couldn’t be bothered herself.
But all the while he'd always had the gnawing notion that perhaps it was his pride that was getting in the way. That he’d so readily believed what Caroline told him because he’d never truly accepted that Kristina loved him. He’d steeled himself after their first night together, had told himself not to fall for her because she was sure to wander away from him. Her leaving him behind had seemed inevitable, given their different social statuses. Had he let his lack of faith come between them?
The car reached an intersection and Oliver slowed down for the lights.
