Page 41 of Zirkov

“I told the building manager I’m a marshal and that I needed access. He knows you’re a marshal and assumed I was here to check on you. I didn’t correct him.”

“Get out.” She pointed to the apartment door, looking incredibly beautiful despite the anger on her face. Or maybe it was the anger that accounted for that deep pink glow.

Before he could remind himself how getting involved with her was a bad idea, she lunged forward and tried to grab the diary from his hands. He held it high, out of her reach.

“I only showed you my diary so you could see the dates where nothing notable had happened. I was making a point.”

“I want to read it. To gather evidence.”

“Those are my personal thoughts, not evidence. You have no right reading it.”

“I didn’t read it. Yet. Why did you encode your diary?”

“So people like you don’t read it!”

“Konnitch is running it through analysis now.”

She stopped grabbing for the diary. “You copied it?”

“Yes.”

A deep red infused her lovely features. “This is a betrayal of the deepest type, Commander.”

“I won’t apologize for doing what is necessary to get to the truth.”

“You mean, to bury me.”

“I’m trying to save you, female. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

“You broke into my apartment—”

“I didn’t break anything. The manager let me in.”

“You invaded my privacy—”

“I’m investigating, not invading.”

“You’re reading my diary!”

Zirkov noticed she held a yellow rose, the same as the others. “Where did you get that rose?”

“That, too, is none of your business.”

He untied the red ribbon and read the note.

Have a sweet day, milady.

“Are you involved with a male?” His chest tightened at the thought of another male touching her.

Her face went fully blank for a millisecond, then she punched him in the gut. Not as hard as Konnitch struck when sparring, but hard enough to distract him while she grabbed the diary.

Her eyes held a mixture of vulnerability and fiery determination. Zirkov ignored the pulsing of his cocks and the intense need to be inside her.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her expression yielding to the stress of the situation. He’d never seen her look so soft, so incredibly beautiful.

“I’m not injured.” He cupped the back of her head as he eased the diary from her.

“Zirkov…”

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