Page 8 of Born into Chaos

“Yes.”

“Kind of like how I kept you alive?”

I grunt in annoyance at how easily I walked into that one while she says, “I’m still waiting for my thank you, by the way.”

I’m not thanking her. I like how annoyed it’s making her too much to give in and give her what she wants. When I stay silent, she says, “Aleksandr had a personality.”

“How nice for him.” I glance around, making sure we’re still alone before I say, “Get in the fucking SUV, Sveta, and buckle your goddamn seat belt.”

As harsh as my words are, my hand reaches out like it has a mind of its own, pulling her knit hat down lower so it’s covering her ears. The wind has picked up, and I don’t like the idea of her getting cold. Her eyes widen at my touch, but I pull away before she can say or do anything.

I wait until she’s opening her door before I do the same and get in. It’s not long before I realize I should’ve added more rules to the listwhen she reaches for her muffin and starts to eat it, dropping crumbs all over her lap and the seat.

“Jesus Christ,” I groan.

“What?” Her mouth is stuffed when she looks over at me, clueless as to what could be pissing me off.

I motion to her lap and the mess she’s making. “It’s a car, Vitya. It’s not like I just left a trail of muddy footprints all over your house. Besides, I was hungry. I get grumpy when I don’t eat.”

Over the next few weeks, I learn how true that is. Sveta is a hard-headed woman who constantly keeps me on my toes, but despite what a handful she is, I still wake up every morning anxious to see her again. She’s constantly threatening to tear down the walls I’ve worked so hard to put between us, but I can’t let her in. The only way this is going to work is to keep her at arm’s length.

Because Svetlana Melnikov can never be mine.

Chapter 1

Vitya

Two Years Later

She’s pissed at me.

Again.

I’m not sure what I’ve done to earn her displeasure this time, but we’ve been at the goddamn mall for four hours, and she only ever makes me endure this particular hell when she’s really angry at me. I mentally go through the last twenty-four hours, trying to figure out what the hell it could be while she walks around, flipping through the same rack of clothes she’s been eyeing for the last thirty minutes.

She knows I hate the mall. It’s a security nightmare, and it always leaves me with a raging headache. I scan the crowd of holiday shoppers, looking for threats while simultaneously drawing a blank on what the fuck I’ve done to piss off mypcholka. I nicknamed her little bee shortly after I started working as her personal bodyguard. It fits her. She’s always buzzing around, rarely sitting still or being quiet, and she can pack one hell of a sting when she wants to. Plus, I just know if I was allowed a taste of her, she’d be sweet as fucking honey.

Her loud, irritated huff has me fighting a grin as I ignore her and scan the crowd. I keep her in my periphery, knowing she’s perfectly safe.

“I can’t find anything,” she finally says. “Let’s just go.”

Without a word, I stay by her side as we leave the overpriced store and make our way through the crowds and towards the escalator. A group of teenage boys eye her longer than I’d like, so I grab her arm and scoot her to my other side, putting me in between them and her. They stop staring when I meet their eyes, and I don’t need to be looking at Sveta to know she’s rolling hers.

Once we’re on the bottom level, I follow her lead and walk past the stand of sweet pretzels that I know she loves so much. She’s going to regret not getting one, and even though I’ll be the one stuck with her attitude, I don’t ask her if she’s sure she doesn’t want to grab one before we leave. I’m her bodyguard, not her boyfriend. I do, however, stop and point at the winter hat that’s sticking out of her jacket pocket.

“Seriously? We’re not even technically going outside, Vitya. We’re just walking through a parking garage.”

“Put it on,” I tell her, waiting until she grabs the pink, knitted hat that looks cute as fuck on her and puts it on her head. Her hair is down today, and I’ve imagined running my fingers through it more times than I want to admit.

“Happy?”

I ignore her tone and tug her hat lower so it’s covering her ears. No matter how I try to spin it, this falls outside my duties as her bodyguard, but I don’t care. It’s freezing outside, and I don’t want her catching a cold.

She stays beside me as we walk down the row of parked cars, and I let out a quiet sigh of relief when we’re in the bulletproof SUV. At least in here I know she’s completely safe. If I could lock her in this damn thing all day, I would. She lets out a heavy sigh and props her boot up on the dash. She knows I hate it when she does that.

“Seat belt,” I tell her, issuing the command that she insists I say every time we get in the vehicle. Why can’t she ever just put it on without me having to ask?

Instead of another sigh, she gives a pained groan before buckling herself in. Only when I’m sure she’s secure do I pull out of the parkingspot. Traffic is awful, and we’ve barely made it a mile down the road when she starts fidgeting.

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