Page 41 of Wicked Vow

I know Erik is going to go for a kiss when we get back to Viktor’s house. I expect it before we even get to the end of the walkway up to the house. His hand goes to my waist, and I let it linger there for just a second before I step away, giving him an apologetic smile.

“Thank you for such a good night. I had a really wonderful time.”

I can see the disappointment in his eyes, but to his credit, he at least handles it like a gentleman. That shouldn’t disappointme, but it does, as wrong as I know it is.

“We should do it again.” He smiles, and it looks genuine. “I really enjoyed getting to know you, Natalia. I have tickets for the orchestra later this week, if you’re not busy?”

He knows I’m not. I swallow back my reluctance, knowing what Caterina would say, what Sasha would say, what Ruby would say.Give it a chance. Maybe the spark will come. No harm can come from it, anyway.

I nod, keeping the smile on my lips as I back towards the door. “That sounds wonderful.”

When the door shuts behind me, I let out a breath. I shouldn’t feel relief. But that’s all I feel as I walk through the dark and silent house up to my room, thoughts of Erik slipping away until Mikhail is all that’s in my head. I leave a trail of clothes on the floor of my bedroom as I go to lie down, my chest aching with loneliness far beyond anything I knew I could feel.

I don’t know where he is. I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again. All I know, laying in the empty bed, is that I want him. I want the man who pinned me against the door covered in blood and swore to me that he’d keep me safe, the man who, with everything stripped away, showed me who he was underneath all the anger and rage.

I know there’s more to him. I just didn’t have time to find out.

And now I might not ever have a chance.

—

The second date with Erik isn’t much different than the first. He’d sent a bouquet of roses to the house the day after the first date, three dozen bright red blooms stuffed into a glass vase. Caterina had exclaimed over them, insisting I take them up to my room. I had, but more concernedly, I’d found one more rose there.

Another red rose, like the one I’d seen on the table at the strip club–but this time left on the windowsill outside my room.

It has to be Mikhail.I’d opened the window and grabbed it, looking around outside, but there had been no sign of anyone. Perversely, despite the knot of fear in my stomach at the ‘gift,’ I’d put it in the bouquet from Erik.

Caterina and Sasha had both wanted to hear every detail of the first date, and Ruby too, when I’d seen her a day later. They all seem united under the same idea–that I need to give Erik a chance. Caterina had finally admitted when I’d gotten her alone after taking the roses upstairs that Viktor had introduced him to me on purpose.

“Do you really think I need to be going on dates right now?” I’d asked her, barely able to keep the frustration out of my voice. “Is that really the best use of my time? Isn’t it just a distraction?”

“Maybe you need a little distraction right now,” Caterina had said firmly. “He’s worked with Viktor long enough that Viktor feels as if he knows him fairly well. He’s nice, handsome, wealthy–”

“Is that enough?”

Caterina shrugged. “You don’t have to marry him, Natalia. It’s just to see what’s out there.”

To get your mind off of Mikhail.I’d heard the words she hadn’t said as clearly as I’d heard them when Ruby said them out loud. It’s clear what everyone thinks, even Caterina, who arguably is married to a man who was once every bit as vicious.

I’d been tempted to cancel the second date, but the idea of dealing with the opinions about that seemed worse than actually going on it. So I’d sat through another dinner, and this time the orchestra, and just like before, it had been pleasant. Nothing to complain about–but nothing to make me want to see him again, either.

I’d dodged another kiss, and I knew that would be the last time I’d probably get away with it. Something about that ideadidexcite me, the thought of what he might do if I agreed to a third and still tried not to kiss him. It made me wonder if he might take the kiss, if he might demand it, and that thought convinced me to agree to a third date, out of curiosity, if nothing else.

That thought is what makes my pulse leap a little as we walk out of the theatre at the end of our third date, his hand on the small of my back once again, staying there as he takes his keys from the valet. I know what he’s going to try to do from the moment he turns towards me at the passenger’s side door, his other hand coming up to touch the edge of my cheek.

“Every night with you gets better,” he murmurs, and I wait, as his mouth lowers to mine, to feel something.

His mouth is warm and firm, pressed against mine, the slightest brush of his tongue sliding against my lower lip. He wants me to open my mouth, to let him in, and I should. I should want him, this handsome man who has demanded nothing and given me night after night that any girl would be thrilled to enjoy. There’s nothing wrong with him that I can see.

But it’s notenough.

His lips press a little harder against mine, ever so slightly more insistent. I hesitate, and then I take a step back.

I can see a flicker of disappointment on his face as he opens the door for me, and I feel a wave of frustration–not so much with him as with myself.Why can’t I enjoy this?

Back in Moscow, before my father died, before Mikhail, when I was Natalia Obelensky, ballerina, and Bratva princess, Erik is exactly the kind of man I would have taken back to my apartment. I would have spent a night or two with him, and I would have enjoyed it. It would have been good–not mind-blowing, probably, but good. And then I would have moved on.

But now–the kiss did nothing. There was no spark, no rush of desire, no urge to lean into him and deepen it. I don’t want him, not like that.

---