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“Then who’s that? Are we even in your house?”

She doesn’t look vulnerable like some women would, standing in a stranger’s home, still flushed from getting fucked hard, wearing nothing but a towel, hair still wet and dripping down her face. No, she just looks pissed off.

“Those must be my parents. They’re the only people who have access to my house. Except Rafail. He has access to everything.”

For the first time, a glimmer of fear flickers in her eyes. She doesn’t want to see Rafail.

Tough shit.

“You let your parents just walk in like that?” she asks, tipping her head to the side, curious.

“Yeah, they have keys.” Because I feel guilty that their youngest son is dead, and I’m the one responsible. Because they’re the black sheep of the Bratva, and I owe them something for giving me life. Parental guilt’s a brutal bitch, and I’m not immune to it.

“Interesting,” she says. “So do you want me to go out there in a towel and scare them away?”

My vision blurs red. If my fucking father saw her in a towel, I’d have more than my brother’s blood on my hands.

“No. You need to wear something.”

I open my drawer. I should’ve thought of this, but I wasn’t planning on bringing her back so soon. I’ll have to call my cousins.

“We need to get you clothes,” I mutter.

“Funny thing about kidnapping someone and bringing them against their will to your house, isn’t it?” she says.

Jesus. This woman.

I open the bedroom door and stick my head out. “Give me five. I just got out of the shower, and I’m getting dressed. Don’t come upstairs.”

I slam the door with a click and turn to find her holding up a pair of boxers and a small, ivy-green T-shirt I don’t remember leaving there.

“What’s that?” I ask, already grumpy as fuck.

“It was the smallest thing in your drawer,” she says, rolling her eyes, but when she shakes it out, something twists in my chest.

No.

That’s Gleb’s. A shirt I stole from my mother before she got rid of all his clothes. Rafail would kill me if he knew I still had it.

She can’t wear that.

I take it from her hand and shove it back in the drawer. “Not that one.”

Great. Just fucking great.

She raises her eyebrows but doesn’t say anything.

I yank out a plain white T-shirt and toss it to her. “Tie it or do whatever the fuck you need to do.”

“What I need to do is wave my magic wand and shrink it, but since I’m the only witch without a wand, I guess I’ll wear it like a dress.”

She pulls it on, and it hits the tops of her knees. She looks adorable. Beautiful. Too fucking good in my clothes.

“Put the boxers on too.”

“Why? Afraid of a little thigh action?”

I cross my arms. “Afraid I might have to break the kneecaps of any asshole who steps near you, yeah.”