17. Chapter 17

17

Leonid

M aksim pulls the Rolls-Royce Phantom around to the front. The October morning sun catches in Clara’s hair as she walks ahead of me, my hoodie skimming her thighs. Blyat . The sight of her ass and thighs makes me harder than a concrete wall.

She pauses at the rear door, those bare feet planted on the cobblestones like she owns the fucking place. Like she isn’t standing half-naked on my property wearing my clothes.

I move before she can touch the handle. Not because I want to open her door like some fucking schoolboy with his prom date. But because I know Clara—know the way her mind works. Give her half a chance and she’ll either run or try to knee me in the balls again.

“Such a gentleman,” she drawls.

“Get in the car, dorogaya .”

“I’d rather walk.”

“It’s a two-day walk to civilization from here, krasotka . In my hoodie. With no shoes.” I let my gaze drag deliberately down her body. “Though watching you try might be entertaining.”

She grunts out a curse, low and seething, and I don’t hide the smirk that spreads across my face.

She’s fuming. Good.

I step closer, crowding into her space, until her back nearly hits the edge of the car door.

“Watch your head.” I push Clara forward, guiding her into the car with a hand on her back. It’s supposed to be a shove, but somewhere between my brain and my body, it turns into something too gentle.

My palm stays there for a beat too long, and I make sure her head doesn’t bump against the doorframe as she slides inside.

What the fuck am I doing?

I tug my hand away quickly, trying not to think about it.

She scrambles into the seat, the oversized sweatshirt— my sweatshirt—hiking up her thighs, revealing way too much bare skin. I pull the fabric back down, a possessive reflex I don’t have time to analyze. My eyes flick to Maksim, catching him glancing in the rearview mirror, brows lifted. I glare at him, daring him to say something.

“Eyes on the road,” I snap, sliding in beside Clara and slamming the door shut. He chuckles but turns back to the wheel, pulling us smoothly away from the compound. Clara shifts next to me, yanking at the hem of the sweatshirt like she’s trying to cover herself, her lips pressing into a stubborn line.

Adorable, even when she’s fuming.

“I can dress myself.” She bats my hands away.

“Clearly not, since you’re wearing my clothes.”

“You’re the one who—” She cuts off as I lean across her, reaching for the seatbelt. My chest brushes against hers, and her breath hitches. The sound goes straight to my groin.

I take my time with the belt, letting my knuckles graze her breast. Her teeth snap an inch from my ear.

“Try that again, and you’ll lose fingers.”

I pull back just enough to see her face.

“Making sure you don’t go flying through the windshield, dikaya koshka .”

Wildcat. Slowly, I let my gaze drop to her bare feet.

“Keep staring, and I’ll dig your eyeballs out with my thumbs.”

Maksim’s laughter breaks the silence. He meets my eyes in the rearview mirror, the bastard clearly enjoying himself.

“You know, boss, there’s a Four Seasons thirty minutes away. Just saying.”

Clara snaps her head around, glaring at Maksim. “Or I could just shove your face into the nearest wall, Joker ,” she fires back.

He only laughs harder, clearly enjoying himself.

The road stretches on, lined with nothing but trees and land— my land. Clara shifts, restless, her fingers tightening around the seatbelt as she bites her lip. She stares out the window, taking in the expanse of property that belongs to me, every inch of it. No neighbors. No one to interfere. Just more and more land.

Her patience frays visibly when the scenery finally changes, turning into the sprawl of New Orleans. She taps her fingers against her thigh, bouncing one knee.

“Where’s Mitch?” she demands, voice edged with anxiety.

I don’t even look at her. “Breathing.”

“If you hurt him—”

“You’ll what?” I turn to her, my hand finding her jaw, tilting her face toward mine. Her pulse jumps under my thumb, and I can feel the heat of her anger. “Try to poison me again? That wasn’t very nice, Clara.”

Her eyes darken. “Neither was killing my brother.”

The accusation hangs between us.

She stops, pressing her lips together, her gaze narrowing on mine like she’s trying to decode a secret hidden in my eyes. Her brows pull together, almost touching, as if she’s genuinely annoyed that she can’t figure it out.

“You still think I killed your brother?”

She bites her lip, and I feel my cock twitch.

Those fucking lips that I want to bite until she moans, want to feel wrapped around my cock, want to taste until she forgets how to breathe.

“The evidence—”

“Is wrong,” I finish for her.

She looks away. “I don’t trust you,” she mutters, shoulders tense.

I lean in, our noses almost touching. “Not asking you to.”

Her eyes flash, and she hisses, “And if you harm Mitch… or Elijah…”

I grin, cocky and unbothered. “You don’t have the upper hand here, krasotka . Remember that.”

Her reaction is immediate. She jerks forward, headbutting me, and stars explode in my vision.

“Fuck. You,” she spits.

I catch myself, eyes watering from the impact, but I can’t help the laugh that slips out. I press my forehead to hers, my smile wide and infuriating. “Maybe later, dorogaya. We have errands first.”

She headbutts me again.

The impact makes my eyes water, but all I can think is how fucking perfect she is like this—wild and furious and mine.

Wait. Not mine.

Enemy.

Right?

Blyat .

The city skyline finally appears through the windows. Clara’s whole body coils tighter, like a spring about to snap. Her eyes dart between buildings, probably calculating escape routes.

Maksim pulls into the circular drive of Canal Place, and Clara’s expression shifts from calculating to suspicious.

“A mall?”

“You can’t wear my clothes forever.” Though the sight of her in my hoodie does things to me. “Even if you want to.”

“I’d rather wear a trash bag.”

“That can be arranged.” I nod to Maksim. “Wait here.”

Clara’s door opens before she can protest. I grab her wrist, tugging her out onto the sidewalk. She stumbles, bare feet hitting concrete, and crashes against my chest.

“Boss,” Maksim calls through the window, grinning like the asshole he is. “Sure you don’t want that hotel room first?”

“Drive,” I growl, but Clara’s already trying to wrench free. I tighten my grip, steering her toward the entrance. “Stop fighting me, or I’ll carry you.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

I bend down, reaching for her legs. She jumps back.

“Fine! Jesus. I’ll walk.” She yanks at the hem of the hoodie. “But I’m not buying anything.”

“No?” I guide her through the doors, into the cool air conditioning. “Then I guess you’re keeping my clothes. Though they might get a bit… drafty.”

Her elbow finds my ribs. Hard.

I laugh, steering her toward Saks. “Come on, krasotka . Let’s find you something.” Then it slips out, softer, almost under my breath, before I can catch it, “Something that covers those legs before I have to kill someone for looking.”

Clara freezes mid-step. “What… what the fuck did you say?”

“Nothing.” I push her forward, my hand spanning her lower back. But I catch her reflection in the store window—the slight parting of her lips, the flush creeping up her neck.

Blyat . I really am losing my mind.