“Tell me what he is to you.” How often did they have sex? The thought sent pain and fury screaming through him.
“It makes no diff—”
“Tell me what he is to you,” he repeated as he drifted closer to her without realizing it. What if that fucker had asked her to move in with him and that’s where all her shit was? She would spend every night next to a man that wasn’t Alek, wrapped around him, taking care of him. Loving him?
She again exhibited how she’d been developing without him by tilting her chin at an obstinate angle she wouldn’t have displayed before. She shook her head.
He snagged her wrist and placed her palm on his thrashing heart, holding it there when she would have jerked it away. It brought her close, but he needed her closer, so he took that half step. He wanted to shout at her, to demand she start talking, but Vasily’s warning was echoing in the back of his mind, forcing him to keep a tight grip on the reigns.
He let his head fall forward to get his mouth near her ear, and while the scent of her skin drove him mad, he spoke in a near whisper. “Please tell me what he is to you so I’ll know if it’s overkill to picture them needing more than one body bag to collect his remains.”
A shocked gasp escaped from her as her face turned ashen, her heightened color leeching from her cheeks so quickly it was visible. Fear immediately radiated from her in small, stinging waves that prickled over his skin.
“He has done nothing to you, Alekzander. You above all people cannot harm a man for being loyal and supportive.”
When he’s being loyal and supportive to you; yes, I can. He grunted as the hypocrisy of the thought connected with his gut. Closing his eyes, he released her and moved out of her personal space. “Fuck me. I’m sorry. Please forget I said that. I’m…on edge.”
“You cannot hurt him. Promise me that, Alekzander.”
He turned his head and gave her a sidelong look that should have sent her running. “Tell me what he is to you, and you have my word that I will not hurt him.” Maks could always do the honors. When she gave her lip an indecisive nibble, he added, “I just need to know what I’m up against.”
Something soft entered her eyes but was gone in a blink. “What do you think he is to me?”
“Your boyfriend.” Deny it.
“Then there is no need for me to say anything.” She didn’t meet his eyes as she drifted to the corner of the sofa where a laundry basket sat, filled with folded towels and linens. She began shaking them out and refolding them.
It was something she used to do when stressed. One time, he’d come home after driving from Atlantic City through a snow storm to find her sitting amid the contents of their linen closet, eyes red-rimmed, skin pale. Her parents had died in a car accident, and she’d been worried about him. She’d tried to distract herself by listening to classic fifties music while refolding bedsheets and tablecloths. They’d made a mess of everything because he’d joined her in her nest and spent the next hour reassuring her all was well. Fuck, he loved who they were back then.
As he imagined hanging the fucking attorney from a meat hook and tenderizing him until not one bone in his body was left intact, Alek found himself in front of her. He dropped his coat on the sofa and slowly reached out to lower the pillowcase she was holding up that prevented him from seeing her.
“I was never unfaithful to you, Sacha,” he said with a low apology in his voice because there was no denying he’d put them here. “Not in mind or body. Which means, by letting Sheppard into your bed, the only cheater in this relationship…is you.”
♦ ♦ ♦
Sacha stood very still, wondering if she’d heard that right. He did not just accuse her of being unfaithful to them.
But he did.
From the moment she opened the door to him, she’d gone from being afraid to feeling weak and needy, then angry. She’d felt sympathetic, amused, smug because he was clearly jealous, which had sent her back to being scared for Justin, then terrified again because Alekzander was so near Lekzi and Sacha wasn’t strong enough to send him away. Until she remembered what he did. Now she couldn’t get rid of him fast enough.
And through it all, she continued to struggle with her overwhelming physical attraction to him. This man had a way of filling her senses. She hated that, and loved it. Hated him. Yet loved him with everything in her.
To her eyes, he was magnificence.
To her ears, the deep cadence of his voice was an aphrodisiac.
His scent was driving her crazy as it continued to drift under her nose every few minutes; she felt like an addict, trembling and panting as she waited for more and more. Crisp apples and the Versace store on Mercer Street kept going through her mind.