Page 51 of Cognac Vixen

For now, though, I don’t have to kill anyone. Right now, the goal is to get through lunch without wanting to killmyself.

I shake off the dark thought and turn to at least wash my hands before I walk back into the arena. But just as I reach for the water, there’s a knock on the bathroom door.

“Just a second,” I say sweetly.

Whoever it is knocks again. Three times. Hard.

I clear my throat and speak louder. “Someone is in here. Just a second.”

Again, three more knocks.

My heart rate spikes. I turn to face the door in mute horror. I don’t say anything. I just stare at the wood and the laminated sign reminding employees to wash their hands.

Another knock.

Suddenly, I’m certain I know who it is.

Geoff and Lucy must’ve walked away, and now, Mikhail has come to find me. He’s outside the door, and the moment I open it, he’s going to push me back inside and punish me for walking away from him.

I just swore to myself I’d kill him if he touched me, but I don’t even have my purse with me. Unless I can figure out how to turn a roll of paper towels into a weapon, I’m unarmed and backed into a corner.

My breathing is coming fast and heavy. I feel panic taking hold.

What do I do? How do I get out of here?

Then the knob turns.

25

CORA

I hear my name.Myname. Spoken by a voice I’ll have to die to forget. And maybe not even then.

“Cora.”

Without another thought, I unbolt the door and throw it open.

Ivan pushes through the door and locks it behind him in an instant. He does exactly what I worried Mikhail would do, but instead of panicking, I throw myself at him.

I plaster my body to Ivan’s in every conceivable way, trying to touch as much of him as I can. The more of him I touch, the less likely it is that this is some kind of vivid daydream.

If every part of me touches every part of him, then this has to be real.

“Ivan,” I breathe.

Help me, is what I’m really saying.Save me.

His hands smooth across my shoulders and down my spine. My face is pressed into his chest as I take deep breaths of him. We’re in a public restroom, but he smells like fresh air. Like nighttime and sandalwood.

I squeeze my eyes closed just in case this actually is a dream. If it is, I never want to wake up.

“Cora.” He curls a hand around the back of my head and runs his fingers through my hair.

“How are you here?”

“I was on my way to meet Francia for lunch. I saw you walk past the back door.” He chuckles to himself in disbelief. “I thought it was a dream.”

Cautiously, I crack one eye open and peek up at him.

---