Page 68 of Scarlet Vows
On one hand, I’m glad Ilya stopped things from going further because I don’t think I would have. He tapped a hunger in me and made me see how two years without a man’s touch is two years too long. I need something, something that no vibrator or clit stimulator can hope to emulate.
They give orgasms, but I need that extra something, the touch of want, need, affection.
But on the other hand?
I wish he hadn’t stopped. I wish he’d pushed it and that we’d kept going.
And that terrifies the living fuck out of me.
The awful truth is he was right to break it off. Because I have no idea what I want.
Until I figure it out, though, I do know one thing.
I need to keep the hell away from Ilya.
I need as much distance as possible.
No matter how hard that may be.
Chapter Fifteen
ILYA
Of all thestupid things I could have done, kissing Alina is up there.
As Monday rolls around, two days after the deed, I’m fucking convinced she’s avoiding me.
I sit at my desk at Demyan’s place, my new morning routine. I go there, deal with what I have to. Meet up with Pavel, and we plan the things he can deal with on his own and the things I’m needed for.
There are other high-ups but no one like Pavel. Demyan likes to keep his inner circle very small, and I’m with him on that. I’d love to have Pavel come over to help with Belov.
But that’s a fucking pipe dream.
Something like that, this early on, would be seen as treason or a lack of basic trust in anyone there. They may feel justified in a mutiny, something I’d like to avoid.
Thing is, usually if I’ve got a world of angst or emotions about Alina, my daily routine sorts them, boxes them, locks them down.
But I’ve had a brutal workout, one that started beforeIsaak met me. And the work with Pavel went on harder and longer than it needed to because I pushed.
We’re done now, but I’m still here.
When I finish the finances, the documents, all the boringly minute things I need to do, I drive myself back to the Belov mansion.
The guard at the gate lets me in, his countenance just the right side of civil, but instead of heading inside, I tour the guardhouses, where the soldiers work to keep the property protected.
Melor silently joins me, which makes it go smoother than it may have.
When we’re done, he waits until we’re inside to speak.
“Sir— Ilya,” he says, using my name like I told him to, “next time wait for me. They’re hardheaded and stubborn.”
I coil my hand at my side as I head up to the study. “I shouldn’t need an escort.”
“You know better than that,” he says in Russian. “It’s a show of my support, of loyalty, and it’ll help bring them around faster.”
I nod. “I get that.”
“I’ll be in my office for a while, and then I have the regular rounds to do.” He pauses, and I read all I need to on his stoic face.
