Page 3 of Bad Medicine
“He feels that before I can begin to take over the organization here I need some real-life experience,” Greg scoffed. “If he only knew how experienced I really was.”
Another chuckle from Ivan, and I cringed. I couldn’t believe I had slept with Greg. How had I not seen what a monster he truly was.
“Well,” Ivan went on, “Have fun, or whatever. Send me a postcard.”
“The fuck I will. You’re coming with me.”
“What? Gregor, man, no. I fucking hate Moscow.” Another pouty sniff. “It’s so damn cold there.”
“I’ll buy you some boots.” The sound of footsteps heading in my direction got me moving again, and I scampered up the stairs as fast as I could, dashing down the hall and back into the bedroom. I fled past the bed and into the bathroom, locking the door behind me.
What the hell was I going to do? If he had any idea I had seen him, I wasn’t making it out of this house alive; I had no doubt about that.
Staring at myself in the mirror, with my smudged make up and freshly fucked hair, I was suddenly disgusted. How could I have been so stupid? Was sex with a good-looking guy really worth all this? I had wanted Greg from the moment I had laid eyes on him; his tall, muscular form, blond hair and those striking blue eyes.
Even the air of danger he exuded—what I had initially pegged as hisbad boy vibebut now knew to be full onmurderingpsychopath—had drawn me like a moth to a flame.
And now I was going to get burned.
“Mia?”
My heart pounded in my chest as I stared at the door, fearing the moment he realized where I was and busted the thing down.
But all he did was knock gently.
I still jumped, though.
“Mia?” Greg repeated. “Are you in there?”
“Yeah,” I choked out, my dry throat catching on the word. I coughed and tried again. “Yes, I’m here.” Taking a deep breath to calm my racing heart, I went on. “I’ll be right out.”
Turning on the tap, I ran some cool water over my wrists, then splashed my face as well.
I could do this. I could go out there and pretend like nothing was wrong, get my shit, and get the hell outta here.
And never look back.
Blowing out a breath, I turned and unlocked the door.
Greg was pacing, his huge form stalking from one end of the room like a tiger. When he heard the door open, he spun to face me, his eyes searching my face for a something. I bit the inside of my cheek and pasted on a smile.
“Morning,” I breathed, trying for sultry.
I must have failed, because Greg’s eyebrows drew down, his lip curling. Moving over to the side of the bed, I began to gather up my things.
“How long have you been awake?” he asked with no preamble.
“Oh, just a few minutes.” I couldn’t look at him. If I did, I might scream. I could barely stand to be in the same room as him. “I have a paper to write this weekend, so I figured I’d get out of your hair.”
Pulling on my jeans, I raced through dressing, sliding my feet into my flats as I pulled my sparkly top over my head. It had seemed like such a great choice last night when I was headed out, but now it was going to light up my walk of shame like a disco ball.
And I couldn’t give a single fuck. I’d run across campus naked if it meant I never had to lay eyes on Greg—or Gregor—again.
When I was dressed, I turned, realizing he hadn’t spoken. Steeling myself, I raised my eyes, seeing the calculating look he was assessing me with, and tried to smile again.
“Everything alright?” he asked smoothly, crossing his arms over his chest, the broad face of his expensive watch flashing in the light. Looking at it now, I could see the drop of blood on the surface, and I swallowed.
“Sure,” I grated. “Just tired is all.”
