“Why would you believe that?” he asked, his voice husky.
“Because you’ve been shifting in your seat, and you’ve kept your coat buttoned in this warm car. I’ll bet you’re hard behind that material.”
He didn’t deny it.
“You’ve got to be thinking about it, because I can’t stop.”
“Try,” he said dismissively, turning away from me once more.
“It’s difficult when my every movement reminds me of what we did.” Because of this delicious, new, secret soreness. I admitted, “My ass feels like I’ve been horseback riding for the last two days.” And I wouldn’t trade the experience, or the twinges, for the world.
Gazing out the window, he languidly curled his lips, his expression the epitome of masculine satisfaction.
Oh, that breathtaking grin. Heart. Beat. Skipped. Was that manly pride on display because I was still feeling his corrections? His face was always so unreadable; he must truly relish what he’d done to me.
If he felt a fraction of the attraction that I did for him, then how was he denying himself a repeat? Maybe he routinely experienced that kind of pleasure with others. The idea made me seethe. “I guess you do things like that all the time with tons of different women? I suppose I’m one of many.”
“You’re not like the women I’ve been with.”
He’d said as much to me last night. Day and night. “How so?”
Nothing.
“Tell me.”
He shrugged. End of discussion.
Fine. “I need to talk to you about logistics. Now that we’ve sorted out my clothing selection—”
“It’s not sorted. That was merely to get you through the day. An extensive new wardrobe will be provided for you.”
When he said things like that, I wished I was more interested in fashion. And, well, money.
“Am I going to get a phone? I need to call my professors.”
“I’ve e-mailed all of them, explaining that you had a family emergency and must travel. Duration unknown.”
“You wouldn’t!”
He raised his black brows. Wouldn’t I?
He’d basically unenrolled me. Even though I’d already planned to arrange for incompletes, this high-handedness rankled.
“You’ve always been responsible with your department,” he pointed out. “It would be unusual for you to disappear without a word.”
“They won’t buy it.”
“They will when the e-mail came from your address.”
“That’s what you were doing while I was in the bath! I heard you come in earlier last night.”
No denial.
So he’d been at my computer, steering my entire life, when he’d heard my whimper, deciding to check that out as well? Did he have no boundaries?
God, so much had happened since then. It felt like weeks ago that I’d been at that bar with my friends, probably because my life had changed more drastically in twenty-four hours than it had in the last six years—since my dad had died and I’d realized how short and precious life was. Since I’d started my quest.
My nervousness about this entire situation returned full-force. “Okay, what about my living arrangement? Where will I stay? And how long are we looking at?”
Sevastyan cast me a puzzled glance. “You will live with Kovalev at his home. Once it’s safer, you’ll come and go as you please.”
“I’m supposed to live with someone I don’t know?” I hadn’t even had an opportunity to Google Kovalev.
“It’s not as if you’ll step on each other’s toes there,” Sevastyan said. “You’ll stay encamped at his estate until the threat has been eliminated. Unless you decide to make your home there once the danger passes.”
Voluntarily reside with a stranger? At the dingy Soviet compound? “But how long will it take for the danger to pass? A couple of weeks? A couple of months?”
“This is your life for the foreseeable future.”
My lips parted. My fall vacay had just gotten extended—all because of a father I’d never met. “Tell me what Kovalev’s really like.”
One corner of Sevastyan’s lips might’ve lifted. “He’s nothing like you’re expecting him to be.” A little thawing from the Siberian?
“You genuinely like him. It’s more than just, um, organizational loyalty.”
He nodded. “Kovalev’s the best man I’ve ever known. I respect him more than anyone.”
“How did you meet him?”
“In St. Petersburg. By chance,” Sevastyan said, with a twist of his thumb ring.
“Ah, that explains everything.” Closemouthed Russian.
“Ask Kovalev for the story, if you like.”
Maybe I would. “So what will I be expected to do all day, now that you’ve unenrolled and unemployed me?” Already I had much more energy than I was used to. “It’s going to be difficult to go from hard work to hard leisure.”
“You’ll get to know your father. You’ll enjoy the amenities at Berezka.”
“Little birch? Is that the name of his compound?”
“Da.”
We fell silent. The landscape grew wilder, with more trees and larger properties. We passed gate after gate, each more elaborate than the last.
My nerves were getting the best of me. I fussed with my new coat. A fur one. My grandmother’s.
What if I said something stupid or ticked Kovalev off? I didn’t often put my foot in my mouth, but when I did, I tended to go big in that department as well.
What if the man wasn’t even convinced that I was his daughter and this was some kind of test? I only had Sevastyan’s word on everything. Shit. How much could I really trust him—
“Natalie, rest easy.” He leaned forward and took my hands. “He’s a good man.”
Right when I’d decided Sevastyan was a dick, he had to go and be all understanding. A raw moment of insecurity from me. A raw moment of sympathy from him.
Then he frowned. “Your hands are cold.” As I stared down, he took both of mine between his own. To warm them.
Just as I’d imagined my future, faceless guy would.
I blinked up at him. Had that only been last night?
“Weren’t there gloves for you?”
“I didn’t have a chance to look through everything.”
“Don’t be nervous.” With utter confidence, he said, “You will take it all in stride.”