It wasn’t until later that afternoon that he returned, making his way up to our room. Weariness emanated from him.

Not just weariness—distance. It was worse than it’d ever been. And I could swear I even saw resentment in his expression.

Resentment toward . . . me? What the hell did I do? “We need to talk.”

He shucked off his gun holster, rolling his head on his shoulders. “I don’t want to do this right now.”

“You’re not going to put me off any longer. I’m done whiling away here when you go out for your mysterious meetings—that you keep secret from me. I’m done being shut out of your life.”

His eyes were full of warning. “You need to learn patience.”

Patience? He was putting this back on me again? “When do you intend to let me in? When do I rate high enough to get to know your business? To actually discuss things with you? After we sleep together? Already did that! Once we’re living together? We are.” I tapped my chin. “Hmm? Maybe after you whip and screw me in front of an audience? How much more personal can things be than that? Yet you won’t share what’s going on in your life? In your thoughts?”

“Maybe it will never happen,” he said, filling me with alarm. “Did you ever think about that, Natalie? How about never?”

“If I’m not your partner in this, then I’m no better than a doll, a toy you bring out and store away whenever it suits you.” Like I’d done with my arsenal. “How do you think that makes me feel?” To him, I was merely a belonging—which he’d told me.

Should’ve listened to him, honey.

He scrubbed his palm over his mouth. “Maybe you expect things from me that I do not know how to give.”

“You know how. You just refuse!”

“So I’m to shoulder all the blame? Why should I tell you anything when I can sense you’re pulling away from me?”

“Oh, no, no, no, Siberian. I’m not pulling away—you’re shoving me out of the f**king door! You keep this up, and I will bolt. Do you understand me?”

Though I sensed a weird kind of panic in him, his demeanor was all confidence. “There’s no leaving, sweet. You’re as addicted to me as I am to you.”

Under the influence. I couldn’t deny this. Not to mention that I was stupidly in love with him. Yet if he wasn’t good for me, to me . . . “It’s true, I am addicted to you. But maybe it’s time to kick the habit—”

A commotion sounded downstairs. Sevastyan lunged for his holster, had his gun out in an instant. “Stay here. Lock the door behind me.”

My heart slammed. “Who’s here? Is it another vor’s men?”

He cocked his head. After a moment, he said, “No, and that’s a problem.”

“How? Why??”

“Because I can kill an enemy’s men.”

Chapter 40

As I locked the door behind him, I wondered why Sevastyan hadn’t told me to go to the safe room.

But didn’t I know? He didn’t want me to watch the camera feeds. Which meant I had to.

At the desk, I scanned screen after screen as he made his way downstairs. My eyes widened when I saw the monitor that covered the parking area. Our guard was laid out on the ground. At least he looked like he was still breathing.

In the kitchen, I spied a black-haired man as tall as Sevastyan, flexing the fingers of his right hand. One guy had knocked out that big guard with a fist?

Could he be the mysterious Maksim? He dressed as well as Sevastyan did, maybe even more conservatively. Despite decking somebody, he’d managed to keep his dark suit crisp and flawless.

In the color screen, I could see that his eyes were a piercing blue. And for some reason, this stranger looked familiar to me.

He helped himself to a bottle of vodka and snagged shot glasses, as if he was just waiting for Sevastyan to join him. Yet he set out three glasses. So where was the third guy?

Sevastyan entered the room. Despite looking like he was about to blow, he’d stowed his gun, tucking it into his waistband at the small of his back.

Amazingly, the other man had no fear of him. He smirked as he made some comment, his bearing aggressive.

Could he not see how close Sevastyan was to violence? It was simmering right beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed.

After another exchange—were they speaking Russian?—Sevastyan inhaled and exhaled, as if for control.

I had to hear what they were saying! I took off my pointy heels, carrying them with me as I sneaked out of the room. I crept down the steps, then paused outside the kitchen doorway. Now I was a peek-freak—and an eavesdropper?

If he would have talked to me, I wouldn’t be forced to stoop to this!

“Answer me!” Sevastyan demanded in Russian. “What the hell are you doing here?”

The man replied in the same, “This is the welcome I get? After all the work I’ve done to help your fiancée, you won’t even let me meet her?”

Fiancée? Why would Sevastyan have told him we were engaged? And what had this man been working on for me?

“You haven’t been helping because you’re honorable, Maksim. You only wanted something to occupy your disturbed mind.”

A puff of breath escaped me. Maksim. In the flesh.

“A game maker at rest is a dangerous man,” Maksim said in a tone of agreement. “As the old bastard always told us, ‘Life grows long without schemes.’ In any case, you’re one to talk—you’re playing a treacherous game right now.”