Page 36 of Krampus Kruk
The reality of all this mafia talk hits me. He’s dangerous, scary, and so are the people in his life.
“So you’ve known my name thisentirefucking time …” I say aloud, processing it all. “Why not, like, ask to see my ID? Why lie?”
He shrugs, and his eyes flick down. My gut is telling me there’s more. I can see it all over him. There’s something he’s not saying.
“What else do you know about me?” I ask, crossing my arms.
He sighs loudly, still straddling me, his posture stiff. That’s when it hits me: Polish.
“When you were speaking in Polish … were you learning more about me?”
He nods once. He’s too quiet now, and I hate it. I hate how calm he is while I’m spiraling.
“Okay. Creepy. I’m going to go. Take me back to the bar.”
“Your car is here,” he says, too calmly.
I throw my hands in the air. “Howis my car here?”
“I had it dropped off.” He finally moves off me, sitting at the edge of the bed.
I’m too stunned to keep arguing. This is done. Over. I fling the sheets back—and freeze. I’m still handcuffed to the bed.
“Take this off. Right. Fucking. Now.”
His chest rumbles in protest.
“Now!”
He rises slowly, heading to the closet with his eyes locked on mine. His expression is … soft, disarming. It only pisses me off more.
He returns, sitting at the foot of the bed, the key hovering in his hand above the lock.
“Don’t make this weird,” I snap.
He exhales then unlocks the cuff.
I spring up, storming toward the living room in search of my clothes. He follows silently, and I feel his stare searing into my back.
I grab my bra off the floor and then my sweater. As I yank it on, I glare at him. “What’s your name?”
“Piotr.”
PYOH-tr, I internally repeat.
“Last name?” I press, pulling up my jeans.
“Kruk.”
I laugh—short and bitter. “Your son is DeclanfuckingKruk. Got it.”
The founder and CEO of Cryptoball. The reason for his weird rule about the company. I hate how small the world is right now. My roommate’s boyfriend is friends with Declan. She’s even been to his summer house. This wasn’t anonymous. This isn’t what I signed up for.
I draw in a sharp breath, trying to hold it together. “Let’s not make this any weirder. Merry Christmas to you—getting to touchthis. But access? Revoked.”
His jaw tightens, his eyes darken, and for a second, I brace for a scolding, maybe even a punishment. For anything. But he says nothing, and somehow, that’s worse.
“I’m fucking done with you,” I say, anger seeping from my pores. “You called me a liar all night whenyou’vebeen lying.”
