Page 91 of Santa Daddy
Then his expression smoothed into something almost bored.
He crossed the lobby in long, unhurried strides. The marble might as well have belonged to him. Everyone watched without looking like they were watching.
He stopped in front of me, close enough that the cold air coming off his coat brushed my bare shins under the dress I’d thrown on in panic.
“What is this?” he asked softly. The faintest rasp of accent roughened the words. “You going somewhere,Dani?”
My fingers tightened on the strap.
Tell him. Show him the test. Blurt it all out right here between the wreath and the concierge desk.
I couldn’t.
“Gym bag,” I said, the lie weirdly smooth. “New wife resolution. Was going to ask Yakov to take me to a fitness center. Work off all the rich-people food I’m not used to.”
His gaze didn’t leave my face.
He read my pulse in my throat. The way my weight wanted to shift backward but had nowhere to go. The too-wide eyes. He was a man who dealt in tells. He had a whole murder room upstairs labeled by them.
“You run from me,” he said mildly. Not a question.
Heat rushed up my neck.
“I went down an elevator that, last I checked, I’m allowed to use,” I snapped. “Didn’t realize stepping outside to breathe was a capital offense.”
He switched his attention to the guard without looking away from me. “Did she try to leave?”
“Yes, sir,” the guard said promptly. “Tried for the door.”
“Of course she did.” Konstantin’s mouth curved, humorless. “You give kitten too much space, she tests fences.”
He plucked the duffel off my shoulder like it weighed nothing.
“Next time,” he said, eyes back on mine, “you tell me if you want air. I arrange. You do not disappear.”
The words landed with more force than the gentle tone deserved.
He didn’t ask what else might be going on. Didn’t imagine there could be any secret I was protecting that wasn’t about the perimeter.
He was so busy assuming I was running from him he didn’t even consider I might be hiding something about myself.
“Come,” he added, tipping his head toward the elevator he’d stepped out of. “We go home.”
Home.
Right.
The ride up in the private elevator was suffocating.
No mirrored walls here. Just brushed metal and the soft buzz of hidden security systems. The panel didn’t even have buttons, just a keypad and card slot he covered with his hand as he tapped a code. Habit, even though we both knew I couldn’t see past his palm from this angle.
The snow on his coat melted slowly, leaving dark patches on the wool. A faint smear of something darker marred the cuff of his shirt where it peeked from under the sleeve.
Blood?
Or oil from some expensive car in the private garage.
Either way, it wasn’t mine.
