Chapter 17

Anton

"Pack your things tonight. We are going to New York tomorrow."

"We?" The pretty little maid stammered. "New York?"

"Surely you have a passport, Mishka?" I asked. It was weeks since our kiss. Weeks since I had apologized. Weeks since she had treated me like anything but an employer.

She had stopped joining me for chess. I didn't have the heart to force her after the first time she declined, saying that she was tired. After that, I had spent my evenings after dinner alone, drinking, and trying to forget.

If I was honest, watching her in her room was not truly an attempt to forget. It was an attempt to remember. It had felt intoxicating to hold her in my arms for those brief moments.

I would never forget it. Even if she never allowed me to touch her again, I would treasure the way she had felt against me body, the taste of her sweet lips, the smell of her hair, for the rest of my life.

I couldn't imagine being with another woman, or even wanting one, ever again. Not even a passing attraction. It would be so empty and unsatisfying to tumble some model or socialite. I had no desire to respond to any of the women who were texting me on a daily basis. I blocked them, one by one, without a word.

My only thought was of Mishka. I wanted to be her man, her partner. I wanted to be worthy of her. I wanted to protect her. To guide her. To serve her.

And to make love to her again and again. To hold her in my arms every single night. To wake up with her every single morning.

For the rest of my goddamned life.

The only issue? She thought I was scum. A criminal. As she had put it on a phone call to her father ‘a very bad man'.

She did desire me, though. Whether she knew it or not. She might be too innocent to understand it, but I knew it was true. We had an incredibly potent spark. It was epic, legendary chemistry. Opposites did attract, after all.

She was an angel. And I was the devil.

Could she redeem me? Could I redeem myself? Or should I just unleash the monster inside me, taking what I wanted without thought of her tender heart, her innocence, her sensibilities, or the future.

What kind of future could I offer her, truly?

Either way, I had to do something. I had to take steps. I was losing my damned mind being near her all the time but unable to touch her. To taste her. To take her.

Dear God, I wanted to take her.

It was true that my travel plans were spur of the moment, but it was not an unnecessary trip. My brothers had been nagging me to go to Manhattan, as well as visiting our various homes and holdings. We often split up those duties. We had so many properties, shared and otherwise, not to mention our business holdings. But that wasn't my motivation.

I wanted to get her away from this mausoleum. Show her the world. Relax the boundaries around our relationship. Wine and dine her. Prove to her that I was a good mate for her.

That I was the right man.

"I have a passport. But it is in my father's house," she said, looking wide eyed and nervous. Good. She should be.

I planned to turn her little world upside down.

"We will stop on the way. Bring your violin, if you please."

"Should I wear my uniform?"

"Yes."

I said nothing else. We barely spoke to each other these days. I dismissed her from the meal and went to my study alone to drink and set my plans in motion.