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“You just got out of the hospital,” he says, voice measured, like he’s holding back a storm of opinions he’s dying to unleash on me.
I tighten my grip on my bag, already bracing for the fight. “I feel fine.”
“You need to rest,” he counters, his tone bordering on authoritative.
“I’ve been resting,” I fire back, lifting my chin. “And now I have to get back to my life. Mr. Adams asked me to come back today, so I’m going.”
Mikhail crosses his arms over his broad, sweat-damp chest, his muscles flexing, his tattoos shifting over his skin. The move is calculated, imposing—he’s used to people backing down when he takes up space like this.
I, however, am not most people.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he says.
I let out a dry laugh, already exhausted by the conversation. “Well, lucky for me, I wasn’t asking for permission.”
His eyes darken, his jaw tightening.
“You can’t stop me,” I add, raising a brow.
Mikhail steps forward, closing the distance between us, the heat from his body wrapping around me like an iron trap.
“Actually,” he murmurs, his voice dangerously low, “I can.”
The challenge sends a sharp spark of irritation through me, and suddenly I want to push back, to claw my way out of the suffocating dominance he always throws over me.
“Want to try me?” I taunt, lifting my chin defiantly.
His gaze flickers with something primal, his nostrils flaring like he’s debating whether or not to actually pick me up and throw me over his shoulder.
“You’re being reckless,” he mutters, his voice tighter now.
“And you’re being controlling.”
“You call it controlling, I call it keeping you safe,” he growls, his hands flexing like he’s fighting the urge to grab me.
“Safe from what, Mikhail?” I snap, pushing against his wall of dominance. “Because last I checked,youare the one who turned my life upside down!”
His lips part, his expression shifting, but I don’t let him speak.
“You think I want this?” I continue, anger rising in my throat. “You think I wanted to wake up one day and find out that my life doesn’t belong to me anymore? That my decisions are suddenly yours to make?”
Mikhail tenses, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. “You’re not going,” he says again, like it’s law, like his word is final.
I pull out my phone, not breaking eye contact, and dial Alex.
Mikhail’s entire body goes rigid.
“Hey,” I say, forcing my voice to sound casual, even though my pulse is racing. “Can you give me a ride?”
Mikhail’s jaw ticks, his fists tightening, his entire stance radiating barely contained fury.
I don’t wait for his reaction.
I grab my coat, open the door, and step out.
When I reach the sidewalk, I glance back?—
And there he is.