Page 40 of Savage Vows
She flushes, but her eyes stay on mine. “Didn’t you?”
I almost laugh. “You didn’t answer.”
She looks away, just for a moment, then back at me. “I don’t know. Maybe I just wanted to feel something.”
“Did you?” I ask.
She swallows. “Yeah. I did.”
The answer goes straight to my cock. That wasn’t the reply I was expecting at all.
I take a step closer. “You act like you’re not afraid of me,” I say.
She doesn’t flinch. “Should I be?”
Most people are. Most people know better. But she stands there, chin lifted, eyes searching my face for answers I don’t want to give.
“That depends,” I say quietly, closing the distance between us.
I remember how she tasted, how she gasped when I touched her, the way she arched under my mouth and then hid her face in the pillow afterward. I remember leaving her in that spare room, knowing she wouldn’t come to me, and not sure if I wanted her to.
I wanted to strip away every barrier until nothing was left but skin and her name on my tongue. My jaw tightens. I want her again, right now, but I force myself to keep it contained.
She watches me, breathing a little faster now. The air crackles between us, something restless and unfinished.
If I hadn’t stopped, I might have done something she couldn’t forgive. Because she looked at me like she wanted to be ruined, and I wasn’t sure if I could put her back together.
Before I can answer, footsteps sound on the landing. The tension breaks. One of the house staff appears in the doorway, eyes politely averted. “Mr. Volkov, someone is here to see Mrs. Volkova. She’s waiting downstairs.”
Adriana and I both step back, as if a spell just snapped. She brushes her hair behind her ear, voice unsteady. “Thank you. I’ll be right down.”
The staff member disappears. I glance at her, one last look, then step aside so she can pass. She hesitates, just for a second, as if she might say something else. Then she slips past me, her arm brushing mine, and heads for the stairs.
I watch her go, every nerve on edge. Whatever this is between us, it’s not finished.
Not by a long shot.
11
ADRIANA
For one dizzy second,I’m sure it’s my mother waiting downstairs. My heart thuds in my chest as I walk down the staircase, half-hoping, half-terrified she somehow convinced my father to let her come see me.
But when I reach the bottom, it isn’t my mother at all.
It’s Bella.
“Bella,” I breathe, relief flooding me so fast my knees almost buckle. She’s standing in the foyer with her tote bag clutched to her side, eyes wide and searching.
“Adi!” she says, dropping the bag and throwing her arms around me. I hug her back so tightly it almost hurts, burying my face in her shoulder. She smells the same—citrus shampoo and the faint trace of smoke from the cigarette I’m sure she had ten minutes ago inside her car.
I pull back, smiling so wide my cheeks ache. “You’re really here.”
Her eyes narrow, confusion overtaking her expression as she looks around. “What is this place?” she whispers. “Are you staying with friends? Family?”
Kind of. The words stick in my throat. I swallow hard, heat creeping up my neck. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you, but…”
How do I explain this? How do I tell her that in the space of one night I went from runaway to bride, from invisible journalist to the wife of the most dangerous man in the city?
