Page 30 of Wicked Proposal

Yulian’s lips twist. He has a dimple, I realize—just a slight one under his right cheek. It makes this rare smile of his feel even more precious. “I’m afraid that dried up a long time ago.”

“Smart man.” I refill my mug from the pot at the center of the table. “Though I’ll say you haven’t lived until you’ve had to looksomeone in the eye and ask them how exactly they ‘accidentally sat’on their empty beer bottle.”

The dimple deepens. I find myself hypnotized by it—the only true physical indicator I have of how amused the Ice King really is.

“Sounds like tonight wasn’t even that eventful by your standards.”

I wish.

“Look, I… I’m sorry,” I whisper. “About how things went down.”

Yulian stares at me. “You’re… apologizing?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Why?”

“I—” my voice catches. “What do you mean, why? I ruined your night. I made Brad make a scene. I…”

“Mia.” Yulian leans across the table. His piercing gray eyes hook me into place. “You didn’t do anything. You were just sitting there. So explain to me, kindly, why I should accept your apology.”

I bite my lip. I’m not used to this—being excused. “I guess I just… feel responsible.”

“But you’re not.”

“I’m not sure Brad would agree.”

He makes a show of looking around the vacant diner, then back at me. “Brad isn’t here.”

“Right.” I give a wry laugh. “Sorry. Old habits.”

Yulian watches me carefully. As if he’s caught between wanting to ask and wondering why he should.

I don’t blame him. He has no reason to care about me. To him, I’m a stranger. A girl he hired for a job.

He saved my life tonight. That’s already enough.

“Brad…” He trails off. “He knew you.”

“It was a long time ago,” I murmur. “A lifetime, really. Guess I just… wasn’t expecting to run into him again in this one.”

“Mia—”

“It’s just like him, though. To get us shot at.” I force a laugh out of me. “Seriously, typical Brad. Always screwing with the wrong people.”

Yulian goes still. Suddenly, I wonder if I’ve said the wrong thing. After all, Yulian did take me to Brad’s wedding. Maybe they really are friends?

But no, that can’t be. The way Yulian snatched Brad’s wrist out of the air, keeping him from touching me…

That wasn’t a friendly gesture.

“The wrong people, huh?” Yulian echoes eventually. “Sounds like he keeps bad company.”

“The worst,” I assure him. “He always had a knack for hanging out with dangerous crowds. Guess he thought it’d make him dangerous by association.”

“Dangerous crowds,” Yulian muses. “More dangerous than me?”

I consider him. His commanding manner, his tattoos. His hot-and-cold flashes, never letting you understand if he cares or if he doesn’t. His expensive suit and cologne, the kind no clean money can buy.