Page 4 of Twisted Pact
I down the rest of my whiskey and set the glass on the bar. Dmitri lifts an eyebrow from across the room. I shake my head.Not now, brother. I have more interesting things to pursue.
When Mila slips through the French doors, I can’t help the low laugh that escapes me.
She’s running again, just like she did six months ago when I suggested the arrangement could work despite her sister’s disaster.
I should let her go so I can focus on actual business tonight instead of chasing after a woman who’s made it clear she wants nothing to do with me.
But I’ve never been good at doing what I should.
I swore I wouldn’t chase her. But some things are worth breaking your own rules for.
I follow her outside, keeping enough distance that she doesn’t notice right away. The garden is elaborately landscaped with hedges and stone pathways that wind through carefully cultivated flower beds.
Dmitri spared no expense for this wedding, but I doubt that when he booked this place, he was looking for secluded corners his brother could take advantage of. There are plenty of spots out here away from prying eyes.
I find her near a stone wall covered in climbing roses. Her back is to me as she grips the rough surface. Her shoulders rise and fall with each breath, and I watch her compose herself.
“Running away again, Zaika?”
She spins around, eyes flashing. “I’m not running. I’m getting some air.”
“Sure.” I take my time crossing to her. “That’s why you bolted the second our conversation got interesting.”
“Interesting?” She barks out a laugh. “You mean when you insulted me and my family for five straight minutes?”
“I stated facts. Not my fault if you don’t like hearing them.”
She stalks toward me. “You don’t know anything about me or my situation.”
“I know you hide behind school instead of facing reality.”
“And I know you’re an arrogant ass who thinks money and muscle cover a bad personality.”
The insult makes me smile. “Good thing I don’t need charm to get what I want.”
She steps closer, close enough that I can smell her perfume. “You think because women throw themselves at you that it means something. But it doesn’t. They want your name, your connections, and your money. Not you.”
“And what about you, Mila? What do you want?”
“To finish my degree and get as far away from men like you as possible.”
“Men like me.” I tilt my head, studying her face. Color burns in her cheeks, and a tiny dimple flickers when she clenches her jaw. Her hair’s twisted up tightly and dotted with pearls. I want to ruin it—drag my fingers through and see how long it falls.
“Stop looking at me like that,” she demands.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re imagining me naked.”
“Iamimagining you naked.” No point in lying. “Have been since you walked in.”
Her breath catches, but she recovers quickly with a sneer. “You’re disgusting.”
“And yet, you’re attracted to me.”
“I’m not?—”
“Yeah, you are.” I move in. She backs up until she hits the wall. “You wanted me then. You want me now. So why fight it?”
