Page 35 of Ruby Malice

I keep hold of the pepper spray. I’m not completely sure I still won’t need it. “I’m taking the bus.”

He reaches over and opens the passenger door. “Get in.”

“I said I’m taking the bus.”

“And I said, ‘get in.’”

We stare at each other, both refusing to back down. But the concrete is starting to burn under my feet and I can see Kirill’s hair blowing slightly in the air conditioning. It’s almost pornographic. Desire for a comfortable seat and cool air wins. I trudge to the car.

“That’s better.”

I roll my eyes and buckle in, trying to ignore his scent in the air. It’s woodsy and warm. If Kirill was mine, I’d bury my face in his chest and breathe in deeply at least three times per day.

But he isn’t mine.

“I bet your girlfriend won’t like that you’re giving me a ride.”

“She doesn’t like much.”

“She likes you,” I counter.

“No, her dad likes me.”

I choke on my next breath. “Excuse me?”

He sighs and works his jaw back and forth. “Viktoria and I were… arranged.”

“An arranged marriage? You said Viktoria isn’t your girlfriend!”

He shrugs. “She isn’t.”

I’m apoplectic with embarrassment and irritation. “Yeah, because she’s your fiancée! You see how that’s worse, don’t you?” Shame burns through me even though I haven’t done anything wrong. I haven’t touched Kirill. I’ve thought about it, but what woman has looked at him without thinkingsomething? I’m only human. I’m innocent of all charges, though.

For now.

My hand rests on the handle. Maybe I should get out while I’m ahead. A quick tuck and roll onto the road, get up and run until I don’t see or hear or smell him anymore.

“She isn’t that, either. Viktoria is… complicated.”

I try and fail to bite back a laugh. “No offense, but ‘complicated’ is the last word I’d use to describe Viktoria. That girl is a shallow pool filled with clear water. I’ve met her twice and I’ve seen all the way to the bottom.”

Kirill chuckles. “You really think you know it all, don’t you?”

I hold up my hands in surrender. “I don’t know anything. I just work for you. Your fiancée and your personal life is your own.”

“Except my personal life has you smashing yourself against the passenger door like you’re hoping to pass right through it.”

He’s right. The handle is digging into my elbow and my shoulder is pressed against the glass. As subtly as possible—which isn’t subtle at all—I drop my arm and sit tall. “That has nothing to do with Viktoria and everything to do with being in a car with a violent stranger.”

“I am indeed violent. Not a stranger, though.”

“Plus, I just learned you’re basically engaged, so—”

“We aren’t engaged.” His voice is deep and even, but it feels like the crack of a whip. He has complete command of his body and everyone around him.

And he knows it.

“Whatever,” I sigh. “The point remains. You’re a stranger in every way that matters. I don’t know anything about you.”

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