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MIA

Yulian doesn’t say a word the whole way to Manhattan.

It’s unnerving. More than that, it hurts. I have no idea what I’ve done to piss him off, but here we are, stuck in the same cold silence.

Maybe it’s not about you, says the voice at the back of my mind, not without a touch of mockery. Maybe it’s about Nikita.

Right. Nikita. She was the one Yulian was supposed to take to Brad’s wedding last summer. Now that she’s back…

Does he even need you anymore?

I tell myself it’s not true. That my mind is just being mean to me. After all, didn’t Yulian say so himself? Last night, in his bedroom, his face inches away from mine?

You tell me. Am I toying with you right now?

The truth is, I’ve got no fucking clue.

I told him things I’d never told anyone. Opened my heart to him like I hadn’t in forever. More than that, he’s opened up to me, too. He’s laid his bloody history at my feet and trusted I wouldn’t trample it, that I wouldn’t turn his vulnerability into a weapon.

It was huge.

It mattered.

I’ve dreamed of his lips more times than I can count. And I could see it in his eyes, last night, that he was dreaming of mine.

But what if none of that is enough anymore?

I hate this burning pit of jealousy. I’ve never been this person, this needy, insecure girl. But I’m quickly discovering how good Yulian is at pulling out sides of me I hadn’t been aware of.

“How…” I swallow around a dry throat. “How is Nikita?”

It feels hypocritical to ask, after the direction my thoughts just took. But Nikita was my patient, however briefly. Part of me can’t help worrying about her. I may have been suspended from the hospital, but some habits are hard to break.

No matter what, I’m still a nurse. A caregiver at heart.

Yulian’s gaze flicks to mine. The gray of his irises is flat, unreadable, a steely mirror to mine. It betrays nothing. “She’s fine.”

“That’s a pretty curt diagnosis.” I try to laugh, but it comes out brittle. “Gonna need a little more to work on, Dr. Lozhkin.”

His lips quirk imperceptibly. That precious dimple of his makes a late appearance, filling my chest with unexpected hope. “You drive a hard bargain, Nurse Winters.”

“What can I say? I’m the bane of every hospital.”

“Then it’s a good thing we’re not in one.”

His body leans into mine reflexively as he speaks. I lose myself to the warmth radiating through his suit, the husky notes of his voice rumbling through me. His cologne, always so present everywhere he goes.

“She woke up,” he says. “Demanded a milkshake. Took my blender hostage.”

Relief seeps through me. The way it was looking last night, I kept fearing the worst. Couldn’t sleep a wink all night, caught between worry for my patient and other, less noble types of thoughts.

“Good. That means she’s recovering well. It wasn’t a given she’d still be able to swallow on her own.”

“Clearly, you’ve never tried getting between Nikita and her midnight snacks.”

“You’re making it sound like I’d become the snack if I did.”

“Yes.” He turns to me, heat burning through his gaze. “Which would be a problem. I’m not in the habit of sharing my food.”

His rough tone turns my legs to jelly. “Are you calling me a snack, Mr. Lozhkin?”

For a second, hunger flashes in his eyes. That gray curtain melts into a haze—a brand of desire I’m only too familiar with.

He’s gonna kiss me, isn’t he?

But then, at the last second, something else takes over his face.

It’s like watching a gust of wind snuff out a candle. His jaw flexes, his dimple disappears, and the heat in his gaze dims to a forgotten ember.

With perfect timing, the car rolls to a stop. “We’re going to be late,” Yulian says, fixing his cufflinks. “Let’s?—”

“Did I do something?”

He turns to me. For a moment, surprise flickers on his impassive mask of steel. “Do something?”

“To upset you.” I swallow around the lump in my throat.

“You keep doing this—this thing where we’re fine, we’re talking, we’re joking around, and then suddenly…

” The nerves are eating me alive as I speak, tearing chunks off my thoughts, but I force myself to put them into words nonetheless. “Suddenly, we’re not.”

There—another flash of something.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, Mia.”

“Then what’s going on?” My tone turns pleading. I’ve never been good at turning myself into a salt statue, not like Yulian is. “Is it about Niki?—?”

All of a sudden, Yulian’s hand cups my face. He tilts it up, forcing me to look into his eyes—to bare myself to him.

I have no idea what he sees there. But whatever it is, it softens the ice in his features.

“This charity gala is very important,” he says. “To the company, and to me.”

“To you?”

“Mm.” His touch is scalding, sending sparks of heat between my legs with every stroke of his fingertips on my chin. “Tonight will determine a great deal of things. It may very well lead to… changes.”

“Changes,” I echo.

“Yes.” There’s a wistful note in his voice, one I can’t quite place. “For better or worse.”

My heart is pounding now. If he doesn’t kiss me within the next five seconds, it might actually explode. Which wouldn’t be very good for his Maybach’s sleek leather interiors, now, would it?

So really, he should just get on with it.

I close my eyes. My lashes flutter, my fingers dig into the leather of the backseat. I can feel the thump-thump-thump in my chest growing louder, deafening?—

HOOONK!

—and then it nearly does explode.

“Get a move on, lovebirds!” Maksim hollers from the driver’s seat. “Or else all the food will be gone.”

I can’t think of anything I want less than food right now. My stomach’s so full of knots, I could sail right out to sea.

Predictably, Yulian pulls away. I mourn him immediately—his warmth, his touch.

“Let’s go.”

He gets out of the car, then holds out his hand for me to take. Like he’s asking me to dance.

And, like all the times before, I take it.