Page 15 of Ruby Malice

“It wasn’t a question.”

“Then it doesn’t really matter if I answer, does it?” I fire back.

His lip twitches in a smirk. “No, it doesn’t. But not in the way you’re suggesting.” He runs a hand through his immaculate hair. “Women where I’m from aren’t usually so aggressive. And Manhattan isn’t exactly renowned for its politeness.”

I frown. “New York? Did you travel here just for this fundraiser?” I ask. “The party was nice, but it wasn’t travel-across-the-country nice. And I know for a fact the catered food is mediocre.”

“I’m sure your employer would love to hear your review of his services.”

“I don’t work for Irving anymore, actually. Tonight was my last night.”

He glances over, his green eyes catching a hint of silver moonlight. “Lucky I caught you then.”

He turns and resumes walking. His shoes make a satisfying click across the concrete. He moves like a dancer, graceful and confident. I watch him go, mesmerized by every tiny little gesture, every thoughtless little motion.

He pulls keys out of his pocket and the taillights of a car straight ahead flash. Suddenly, I realize where we are. What we’re doing.

“Wait. My bike. I have a bike. I need to ride—” Thank God it’s dark, because I’m as red as a fire engine.

“You’re stammering.”

“I’m a little shocked, actually. I was just almost attacked by some—somegoon,” I spit. “So you’ll have to excuse me.”

“If you’re in shock, then you probably shouldn’t be riding a bike.” He leads me around to the passenger door and opens it. “Get in.”

I hold onto the door like it’s my life raft and I’m lost at sea. “I’m not inshockshock. I was just shaken up a bit. I’m fine.”

“Fine.” He pivots away from me and extends a hand back towards the hotel. “Then go back and get your bike. I’m sure if you ask nicely, the man with the broken tibia will roll out of your way. I’m sure his deadweight didn’t bend your tire too badly. I’m sure his boss and his colleagues aren’t sniffing around, looking for someone to take their anger out on for what someone did to their friend.”

I’m not stupid enough to think I could take the guard, broken leg or not. And Kirill knows it.

I narrow my eyes. “Some knight in shining armor you are. Chivalry really is dead, isn’t it?”

“I’m offering you a ride home. You’re the one resisting.” He lowers his chin, looking up at me beneath lashes that only a man who will never appreciate them properly can have. They’re long and dark and full. I swear he’s staring straight into the heart of me. Into the place where I lock away my hopes and my dreams, my fantasies, my fears.

Stop resisting, those eyes say.Give in.

But give in to what? To whom?

And what will happen if I do?

“I don’t need to get my bike. I can walk.”

Lana’s house is a thirty-minute bike ride away. If I walk, it will take me three times as long. Lana offered to let me drive Mitchell’s car, but I saw the look on his face when she said it. If I so much as left a fingerprint on the dash, he’d probably drop it off at the shop in the morning to have it deep-cleaned. Or maybe just straight-up dismantled for scrap. I don’t need that kind of pressure.

Kirill nods. “Okay.”

“Why aren’t you arguing with me?”

“Am I supposed to be?” His expression is flat, but I sense a smirk tucked just under the surface.

He’s probably laughing at me, but I can’t stop myself. “Yes. You’re supposed to insist. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do. You’re supposed to promise that you’re a good guy and you won’t let anything happen to me. Something like,I’d never be able to live with myself if I let you walk away and something happened to you.”

Maybe I really am in shock. I can’t believe I just said any of that. Though some part of me feels like Kirill already knew it. He can read minds or intuit emotion or something, I’m almost positive.

Finally, he leans his head to the side. “And what should I say if I’m not a good guy?”

A tantalizing quiver zips through me, settling low in my belly. But I don’t have time to think about what it means, because right then, a sudden streak of lightning shoots across the sky. A second later, thunder cracks loudly enough that I clap my hands over my ears and yelp.

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