Page 27 of Twisted Pact
I wrench free and make it three steps toward the door before he’s there again, faster, harder, and immovable.
This time, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out my car keys.
“You won’t get anywhere without these,” he mocks.
“Give them back.”
“No.”
“Alexei—”
He pulls out my phone next. “Or this.”
Panic slices through the anger. “What did you do?”
He remains infuriatingly calm. “You think I didn’t see this coming a mile away? And before you start getting ideas about running, my men have orders to stop you by any means necessary.”
My jaw drops. “You can’t be serious.”
“Completely serious.” His tone leaves no room for argument. “You want to attend classes? Fine. I’ve arranged for you to do it virtually. You can meet with your advisor via video. Yourresearch can be done remotely. But you will not leave this house until the threats against your family are gone.”
“You bastard.”
“Probably.” He smiles. “But you’ll be alive to call me that. That’s what matters.”
I stare at him. Three days ago, I thought the isolation would be the hardest part of this arrangement.
I was wrong.
The hardest part is being trapped with a man who kisses me like I’m everything he’s ever wanted, and then pushes me away like I’m poison.
“I hate you,” I whisper.
“No, you don’t.” His gaze flickers with something unreadable. “But you might before this is over.”
He turns and walks down the hall, leaving me alone in the middle of the living room with my anger, shaking hands, and the heat he left burning under my skin.
He says he’s protecting me.
But I’ve seen the way he looks at me. Like he’s saving me just to ruin me himself.
8
Alexei
The cold shower does nothing to solve my problem.
I stand under the spray and think about anything except Mila sleeping a few rooms over in clothes that show off way too much skin. Anything except how she tasted yesterday. How she felt under my body on that couch.
My cock throbs despite the frigid water beating down on my shoulders. Three days trapped with her, and I’m wound so fucking tightly that even ice can’t numb the need.
I wrap one hand around myself and stroke once. Twice. The image of Mila’s face when she came apart around my fingers floods my brain. Her hazel eyes going unfocused. Her mouth falling open on a gasp that echoes in my ears.
“Fuck,” I mutter.
My pace increases as I remember the sounds she made, and the way her body moved against mine. How tight she was around my fingers. How much tighter she was around my?—
My phone rings on the bathroom counter.
