Forbidden Fantasies

Quite the imagination(2)

Pajama Guy's threat didn't sound like an empty tease. He is close enough to Rhys to call him by his first name, which means they must be friends. Rhys will trust him no matter what he says about me.

I want to rush back to my apartment and plan my escape, but time has never moved so slowly. Any second, Rhys will discover just who the ‘Petrov princess’ in Grisha’s warning is.

Having only been to Moscow once, I don’t have a Russian accent like my father, Kristof, and Grisha. For two years, I have bleached my hair every time the roots started growing in. I look nothing like Natalya Petrov, the woman I was before I fled Chicago. I am Kira Davidson now, and Kristof rigged my background. Even if Rhys suspects my identity, nothing can prove it.

But Rhys Redmond doesn’t need proof, I remind myself. As long as he considers me a threat, he will have that intimidating man kill me.

Five o’clock finally rolls in, and it feels like I’ve been taken off the death row. I call Rhys’s office.

"I’m clocking out now, Mr. Redmond."

He ends the call abruptly without saying anything.

I’ll take that as a yes. I wasn’t even asking for permission, anyway, just letting the asshole know I’m going home for the day.

I’ve just finished packing my things when Rhys’s door opens. He stands brooding in the doorway. "What are you doing?"

"Going home," I say. What is wrong with him this time?

"I need you to stay a few more hours, please." Even the word ‘please’ doesn’t make him sound any less intimidating. It’s an order, and I don’t have the right to refuse.

Waiting until five was already such a pain, and now he wants me to stay longer? I’m wracking my brains for the perfect excuse when he adds, "I’ll pay triple for overtime."

Why waste such an opportunity?

I sit right down, giving him a look that says this is a one-time deal. The man ignores me and returns to his office, slamming the door behind him.

For the next few hours, I have little to do. Aside from answering a few emails and setting up an online meeting for tomorrow, Rhys doesn’t need me nearly as much as I expected.

Keeping an ear out in case he calls for me, I take out my diary.

I’ve finished scribbling the third entry by the time Rhys finally lets me leave work. It’s confusing that he had me stay despite not needing me, but I won’t complain about the extra money. After all, it might take some time to get a job in a new environment and I’ll need to get by before then.

Outside the building, I’m wondering if I’m too late to take the subway when Rhys’s car stops beside me. "I’ll drop you off."

"That’s not…" my words dry up in the face of his menacing glare. Why does he have to look so intimidating all the time? He is doing something nice, but one would think he is driving me off to my death.

It will save me a few bucks, anyway, so I enter the car.

The entire drive is quiet. I have enough to worry about, so I don’t mind the silence. I’ve just decided my next location when we arrive at my apartment complex. To my surprise, Rhys parks the car and gets out, heading for the elevator before me.

I rush after him. "You don’t have to see me to the door. I can go from here."

"Don’t flatter yourself," he scoffs. "Shane has a question for you; he’s coming over in an hour."

"Shane?" I ask, my stomach sinking with an ominous feeling.

"The fool who owns this building," he says, pushing the elevator buttons. It slides right open and he steps in, holding the door for me.

My hands temble as I walk in and stand beside him and the doors close. We have been in a car together twice, but this feels different. He is so close to me that I can smell his cologne, and it sends my mind all sorts of places. My pen and diary will certainly have a field day later.

I’m still a trembling mess when we enter my apartment. Rhys slumps on the couch and yanks his tie off, throwing it beside him.

"I’ll make you a cup of tea," I offer and quickly dash to the kitchen. Anything to be away from him. My thoughts have been running wild ever since he offered to drop me off. Seeing him on my couch without his tie on is making me think of things that would get me in more trouble than I am already in.

I take my time making the tea, using it as a chance to cool my head off. I don’t want to think about Shane and why he wants to talk to me. At least, for now, I want to pretend everything is still alright.

I step out of the kitchen and through the corridor to the living room. "Would you like any snacks with—"

I gasp halfway through my question, nearly dropping the tray. Rhys is holding a familiar book in his hand. I instantly know what it is, but I stubbornly hope he didn’t read it.

That thought flies out the window when he opens his mouth. "You have quite the imagination, Kira Davidson."