Page 4 of Savage Princess

Matteo goes silent for a moment, his eyes widening a little. They flick up to me, over to Elena, back to me, and then down again as he listens to whatever is being said on the other end of the line.

“Of course,” he says finally. “Yes, of course. Right away. I’ll tell him.”

He sets the phone down, swallowing as he starts to type again. “Two rooms. Upper floor. And look at that—there are two that are connected. Exactly what you asked for.” He forces a smile as he reaches for two keys, holding them both out to me. “For you,señor—”

“Don’t worry about it.” I take the keys, nodding at him. “Put whatever name you want down. It doesn’t matter.”

I gesture to Elena to follow me, and she does, wide-eyed, as we head for the stairs that will take us up to our rooms.

“What the fuck does that mean,the wolf watches?” she hisses as we walk, taking extra steps to try and keep pace with me despite her ankle. “What is this?”

“I told you, I’ve been here before, on jobs. This hotel knows me. Not personally–but they know who I used to work for. They know the code words. Usually, the clerks do, but I guess it’s been a while since anyone from there stayed here. Must be a new guy.”

“Is it a good idea to leverage that kind of thing, when you don’t work for them anymore?” Elena sounds a little breathless as she catches up. “Slow down a little; I’m having a hard time.”

Guilt pricks at me. I should have my arm through hers, around her waist, anything that could help make it easier for her to get up the stairs. I could have asked for a ground floor room. But both of those things are dangerous–the first because touching her makes me feel as if I’m going crazy, and the second because it’s going to be much easier for anyone after us to find us if we’re on the ground floor.

“Right or left?” I ask her as we get up to the rooms, and Elena shrugs.

“Does it matter?”

“I think they’re all pretty much the same.” I glance over at her. “Just figured it was polite to let the lady choose.”

Elena wrinkles her nose. “Right, I guess. You said a door connects them?”

I narrow my eyes at her. “It’s going to be locked, Elena. It’s so I can get to you if I need to. Not so you can try to come into my room in the middle of the night.”

Her cheeks flush, hot pinpricks of red appear high on her cheekbones, and she looks sharply away. “Don’t flatter yourself,” she says tersely. “I just wanted to know that you’d be close if something happened. You know—since yourjobis keeping me safe.”

I don’t say anything, unlocking the door to the room on the right-hand side. There’s no point in taking this conversation any further. Anything that either one of us says is only going to make it worse.

“Home sweet home.” I open the door, letting her step in first. “You can get a hot shower, a good night’s sleep. I’ll call up for some takeout. We’ll figure out what comes next in the morning, but for now, let's just enjoy getting to be horizontal in an actual bed.”

Elena’s eyes flick to mine, and I see an expression on her face that makes me wish I’d phrased that differently.

“Just–” I clear my throat, stepping aside. “Knock if you need anything. I’ll be next door, looking into getting us some food. I’ll bring it to you when it shows up.”

There’s a flicker of disappointment across Elena’s face, but she just nods. I step back, closing the door, and I do everything in my power not to think about the fact that on the other side of it, she’s probably starting to undress.

That in a few more minutes, she’ll be under a hot spray of water, naked and slick with it, soap dripping down her—

Holy fuck, Volkov, get a grip.

I busy myself with looking into getting food for us. The leftover rations in the survival bag ran out a day before we docked in Rio, and I know Elena is every bit as hungry as I am. I wantrealfood, and I know she must too.

A call down to the main desk and a short conversation with a very nervous-sounding Matteo nets me the promise of some takeout chicken and sides, which I place two orders of, again reminding him that the hotel is happy to cover the needs of anyone with the code words who needs a place to sleep and something to eat. He still sounds pretty unhappy about it, but that’s not my problem.

I knock on the door dividing the two rooms when I think enough time has gone by, unlocking it, and a moment later, Elena opens the door. She’s in a coarse-looking robe, her dark hair wet and draped over one shoulder, and I’m painfully aware that there’s likely nothing underneath the cheap hotel robe.

It would be so easy to find out, too. She wouldn’t stop me, I know that. I could undo that tie at her waist, spread the fabric open, and underneath—

“What did you get to eat?” Elena’s voice jolts me out of my thoughts, sending guilt flooding through me. I know good and damn well I have no business thinking of her like that, especially after the lectures thatI’vegivenherabout how inappropriate and dangerous anything further between us is.

“Some kind of chicken.” There’s no furniture in the room except a bed and a chair against a far corner of the wall, which makes it hard to not make the act of eating dinner more intimate than it should be. I have a flash of memory—another hotel room much nicer than this one, another woman, white sheets and blonde hair, and a forkful of sticky chicken against lips that made me ache with how much I wanted to kiss them. I remember watching her lick spicy honey off of her lower lip as if it happened yesterday, and not over a decade ago.

It’s a brief, visceral reminder of why I need to keep my distance from Elena.

I set the takeout containers on the bed, grabbing the chair from the other side of the room, dragging it over so that I can sit next to the bed, not on it. I catch another of those brief glimpses of disappointment on Elena’s face. I know she was hoping for me to sit next to her, for it to be a close and intimate moment as we shared dinner.

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