Page 54 of Trapped By the Bratva

“Where were you earlier?”

“Not in here putting up with your shit.”

“Where were you?” he repeated, harsher.

I shrugged, glancing at him. “You told me to get out, remember?”

He grunted, rubbing his jaw. The friction of his short stubble sent moisture whisking into the space between us as he looked off to the side. When he locked his emerald stare on me again, I almost trembled at the command in his eyes.

“Where did you?—”

“Why do you care?” I crossed my arms, jutting my chin up higher.

He didn’t reply, staring me down.

“Because you need to know if Alek will be forced to find you another therapy aide?” I tilted my head and narrowed my eyes. “Were you worried that I was confused about how hot and cold you run, dragging me into bed one second, then yelling at me to leave you alone the next?”

He stepped closer. So close that the steam from his skin, heated from the shower, radiated toward me. My fingers itched to reach out and touch him, but I refrained. I wouldn’t cave. I wouldn’t show him that I still lusted for him.

“Don’t try to tell me you didn’t want it.”

I opened and closed my mouth. I’d be damned if I tried and failed to lie to his face again and get called out on it. Not about this.

“Make up your mind, Dmitri. You want me here. You want me to leave. Which is it?”

He clenched his teeth, making his jaw tense and slide. “Where did you go?”

I wanted to scream. One remained lodged in my throat. He was so damn stubborn. But I could be worse.

“It’s none of your business.” I stood up straighter, refusing to be intimidated any further by his broody nature.

I hated telling him that line, though. I wanted it to be his business. I wanted to be his business. To matter to him. I wished I could share my burdens with him and be completely open and honest. That forever unrequited wish to belong would remain a hole in my chest.

He wasn’t interested in me like that. I was well aware of that fact without his having to belabor it. Despite the lethal intensity of his glower, a sure sign of his frustration that I wasn’t being easy and telling him what he wanted to hear, I did not matter.

I was worthy enough to be fucked once. But not to be valued as a friend.

It stung. Which was why when I turned to leave, again without another word in parting, I fought back the urge to cry.

18

DMITRI

None of my business.

That was what Hannah tried to tell me. Wherever she went and whatever she did, it wasn’t “my” business.

Which was funny. Because the last time I told her she wasmygood girl, she fucking loved it.

“Slower,” she coached of my reps with the goddamn elastic bands. This time, for my shoulder. It was the neediest area of maintenance, that was for sure.

“I am going slow.”

“This”—she took hold of my upper arm and elbow, easing me through the motion—“is going slow.”

I clamped my teeth together to ward off the sensation of her touching me. Any time her fingers pressed against my skin, I was torn between sighing and holding in a breath. Every inch and second of contact between us left me feeling charged and alive, yet also deprived and frustrated.

She kept it all strictly professional between us. Nothing flirty. Nothing weird. All business and proper care.