Chapter 16
“Investments.” I smirk at her incredulous look. “That’s the honest answer. I watch trends, hunt for opportunities. Every now and then, I see something new and promising that turns out to be the next big
thing.”
Her dark brow arches. “Like Conrad?”
“Fuck no.” We share a laugh and my God, I could drown myself in her voice. “His ‘art,‘ if it can even be called that, is a plague upon mankind. I’m honored to have been the one to personally eradicate the worst offender.”
“There you go again.” Daphne sips her drink as she studies me. “One minute, you’re this laidback, kinda crude dudebro. The next, it’s like you just gave a cultural aesthetics lecture at Yale.”
“I wasn’t lying when I said I’m literate. I do read a lot.”
“War general biographies and porn magazines, I’m guessing.” I chuckle. “Among other things.”
“Don’t tell me you’re picking up art history textbooks in your free time,” she replies. “I’d say you look like you should be the one on display, not the one studying it.”
“I’ll take the compliment.”
“Don’t act like I’m the first one to ever tell you you’re attractive, either,” she accuses. Then, straightening up: “So where did you go to college?”
I sigh. That’s a part of my life I try to pretend never happened. Though it did and was a few of the more precious years of my existence. I was far the fuck away from my family, from those responsibilities, from the never–ending shitshow that comes with being in a Family with a capital “F.”
“Yale.”
Daphne balks. “You’re kidding. I was joking when I said that, you know.” “I’m not. Spent three years there. Never got to graduate, though.”
“How come?”
“Father died. Had to go back and help take care of the family.”
She nods like she knows exactly what I mean. Which is fair, if incorrect. I’m not exactly blasting through
a megaphone that I’m in charge of a Russian mob family and my father, the former pakhan, was murdered by the people he fucked over.
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Boyfriend Let His Side Chick Ruin My Painting, Now He Regrets
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Chapter 16
I eye her again. Her face in the fluorescent diner lights, half–shadow, half glowing. The curve of her jaw. Highlights gleaming in her hair from the red neon sign over the door.
It’s tempting to take her back to my place. There’s a part of me that wants to protect her from the world and give her sanctuary in my home, in my bed… but I have to shake it off. I remind myself of what I am–and, more importantly, what I am not.
I’m not her saving grace or her valiant prince riding in to save the day. For all she knows, I’m just some guy who fucked her brains out, fed her.
In a few moments, I’ll be the guy who drives her home and then disappears, never to be seen again.
It’s better that way.
So as we pay and leave, I take advantage of the car ride to memorize this feeling. I linger where I shouldn’t. A few extra minutes to smell her vanilla perfume filling up my car. An unnecessary breath, just to hear her sigh with contentment as she settles into the leather passenger seat like she’s meant to be
here, next to me, all along.
For a scant few minutes, we can pretend like there’s more to this than there really is. It’ll all be over soon enough. Might as well enjoy her while it lasts.
“That’s me,” Daphne says eventually, pointing through a window to a looming apartment building, a tall
block of shadow in the night.
I nod and park. Kill the engine. The silence feels like a third person in the car with us.
Daphne stares out, fingers on the handle, though she doesn’t open the door yet. She turns and looks at
- me. “Thank you.”
“You gonna be okay?”
The question flies out of my mouth before I have a chance to even think it over. What do I care?
That stupid nagging sensation in my chest says, A whole fucking lot. She sighs. “Yeah. Hazel’s good people.
I’m safe here.”
I can tell she doesn’t want to leave. I don’t want her to leave, either. We both know it has to happen. We both know that once that car door closes behind her, this is it. Forever.
Doesn’t mean I have to like it.
Daphne pulls out her phone and checks her messages. “Ugh. She’s probably wondering what the hell happened to me–hey! What the hell?!”
Something possesses me and before either of us can blink, I’ve got her phone in my hand. I tap in my
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Boyfriend Let His Side Chick Ruin My Painting, Now He Regrets
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Chapter 16
phone number, send myself a text, then hand it back to her. “There.”
“What’s this?”
“My number. And now, I have yours.” “Yeah, but… why?”
Again, something alien to my nature possesses me. I pull her close and take the longest, sweetest moment to taste her lips, to caress her tongue, to just feel her.
Because, even with that lifeline tossed, I’m not sure I’ll ever see her again. If I choose what’s best for both
of us, I won’t.
“Goodnight, moya plamya.”
Daphne blushes. Nibbles her bottom lip. If she doesn’t stop, if she doesn’t leave, I’m dangerously close to driving her away and showing her just how large my bed is and how much time we can spend in it.
In the end, she makes the right choice. “Goodnight, Pasha.”
Then she’s gone.
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