Page 9 of Born into Chaos

I knew she should’ve gotten the fucking pretzel. She’s about to enter her hangry phase. All the signs are there, and when she groans and says, “This is going to take forever,” I fight a laugh and ignore her.

She twists in her seat, trying to find a lane of traffic that’s moving, and then gives up and starts tapping her hand against the boot that’s still resting on the dashboard.

“I’m hungry,” she mutters, and then she turns her head to me. “Why didn’t you remind me to get a pretzel? Is it too late to turn around?”

I look in the rear view mirror at the long line of cars behind us. “Yes.”

“Oh my god,” she groans again. “We could be stuck here for hours.”

Without a word, I lean over and push her boot off the dash, ignoring the irritated grunt she gives. Reaching into the glovebox, I grab the fruit snacks I always make sure to have stocked for her and throw two packs onto her lap.

“My favorite,” she says, and I have to bite my lip to not smile at how happy she sounds. “Thanks, Vitya.”

“Mm,” I say, the same sort of noncommittal grunt response I usually give her. Partly because I know it pisses her off, and partly because I just don’t know what else to say. I’ve been watching Sveta every day for two years, and the damn woman has ruined me. I’m not sure when exactly I fell in love with her. Part of me thinks it was the second she leaned over me after I’d been stabbed, insisting Pyotr use her blood to save me. Whether it happened then or gradually over the course of the next few months doesn’t matter. What matters is that it happened, and I can’t get her out of my fucking head. For two years I haven’t been able to even look at another woman, so if anyone should be feeling pissy right now, it’s me. My case of blue balls is far worse than a fucking missed pretzel.

“So good,” she mumbles around her fruit snacks as she empties one pack and tears open the other. “Want some?”

I hold my hand out, not at all surprised when she takes the time to pick through them, giving me the red ones that she knows I prefer. For one brief moment, when her fingers brush mine, I allow myself to think about what it would be like to be in this car as someone other than her bodyguard, what it would be like to thread my fingers through hers and pull her closer, claiming her mouth while we’re stuck in downtown traffic. When I start to wonder about whether or not I could make her come before the light turns green, I know I need to get my head out of my ass and back on my job.

Shoving the fruit snacks in my mouth, I put my focus back on the road and off the beautiful woman sitting next to me.

“Thanks, Sveta,” she says in the world’s worst impersonation of me. She always makes me sound like such a dumbass when she mimics me. “It was so sweet of you to share your fruit snacks with me.”

“Yourfruit snacks?” I ask, unable to resist.

“You gave them to me, so, yes,myfruit snacks, the ones I so graciously shared with you.” She turns to face me, and I know what’s coming before the words are even out of her perfectly pouty mouth. “You know, kind of like how I shared my blood with you the night you almost died.”

There’s my feisty pcholka, coming straight in for the sting.

When I don’t give a reaction, she lets out a huff of air and pops another fruit snack in her mouth. The next several minutes are spent in silence until she finally reaches over and turns on the music. An insanely upbeat tune from her holiday playlist fills the interior of the SUV, immediately annoying the hell out of me just like she knew it would. She taps her foot and sings along for the rest of the drive. I swear she does it off-key on purpose.

By the time I pull into my reserved spot near the private elevator that leads to her family’s penthouse apartment, I’m seconds away from pulling my gun out and shooting the speakers. I’m not much for the holidays. It just reminds me of things that I don’t want to fucking think about.

Before Svetlana can jump out, I grab her arm and hold her in placewhile I scan the garage, making sure everything’s okay. When I’m satisfied it’s safe, I let her go, and she hops out while I do the same because experience has taught me that she won’t wait for me. She’ll grab her bags and hightail it to the elevator, hoping she can get the doors shut before I catch up. She’s constantly trying to get away from me, and I’m constantly ruining her plans.

“Are you going anywhere else tonight?” I ask once we’re inside and I’ve pushed the button for the top floor.

She shrugs and leans against the polished wall. “I might go hit the clubs later,” she says in a bored tone, “or maybe I’ll just grab a table at Pink.”

I raise a brow at the mention of the strip club her family owns, the one she knows she’s sure as fuck not allowed to go to. She sighs and leans her head back.

“You know I can’t go anywhere or do anything, Vitya. Do you ask me these questions to torture me? I’m twenty, it’s Friday night, and I will be sitting my ass at home. Again.”

“You’ll be safe there,” I tell her.

“Please,” she mutters and then adds, “I could do with a little bit of action.”

You and me both, little bee.

Her soft brown eyes meet mine, just long enough for me to see something in them that has me looking away. She’s been staring at me more and more lately, and I’m doing everything I can to discourage it. The last thing I need is for her to start developing feelings for me. One of us being in love is bad enough. I can handle it. I’m used to a hellish existence and being miserable is just standard for me. I don’t want that for her, though. She deserves better.

The doors give a soft ding before opening onto her family’s apartment. I follow her in, making sure everything is secure. While she’s at home, there’s no need for me to watch her, but I sometimes hang out here if she’s planning on going back out again. Last year, Vitaly moved me into the apartment below them so I’d be closer, but it’s still easier to just wait it out here if we’re going to be making another trip.

I blend into the background and await my orders. I’ve learned that a big part of being a bodyguard is standing around and waiting. I’m not one to brag, but I’m pretty damn good at it. Sveta ignores me and plops down on the couch while Katya peeks her head out from the kitchen.

“Hey, Vitya. You hungry? There’s plenty of stew if you want some.”

I smile at Katya and shake my head. “Thank you, but I’m fine.”

---