I pause, glancing over my shoulder. “Yes?”
He picks up the cup, his eyes never leaving mine, and deliberately places his lips exactly where mine had been.
“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he says after taking a sip.
I smile, feeling bolder than I ever have. “I’m just following your lead, Mr. Akopov.”
“Be careful what you start,” he warns, but there’s heat in his eyes that makes my knees weak. “You might not be prepared for how it ends.”
“Or maybe,” I say, surprising myself with my daring, “you’re the one who isn’t prepared.”
I walk out before he can respond, my heart pounding a victory march in my chest.
For the first time since this cat-and-mouse game began, I feel like I might actually have the upper hand.
When Vince’s text arrived last night, demanding I wear red for the Kater
