As I suspected, our so-called neighbors are spouting complete nonsense. Anger simmers in my chest as I watch Andriy Mykolayovych listen to them, his face a mask of calm. It astounds me how he remains so composed.
His confident demeanor, honed from years of experience, ignites an involuntary admiration within me. For the umpteenth time in the last fifteen minutes, I find my gaze drifting to his rugged profile. I mentally scold myself, but my eyes keep returning to him.
Fortunately, he remains engrossed in the conversation, which is good for me, as I can sense the trouble brewing. These two are clearly capable of causing significant issues.
Finally, our disgruntled “neighbors” leave, puffed up with indignation. Only then do I notice the shift in Andriy’s expression. His handsome features have hardened, and his lips are set in a firm line.
“Andriy, do you think their threats are serious?” I can’t help but ask.
His blue eyes lock onto mine, scrutinizing my face a beat too long. I force myself not to flinch, though my breath quickens under his gaze, as if he’s touched me with those long fingers of his.
“Wow, Kraievska, you’re really taking this the wrong way,” I chastise myself internally, forcing my gaze elsewhere.
“Likely bluffing,” he replies, his voice low and gravelly, snapping me back to reality.
His turquoise eyes remain fixed on me, and the intensity sends a shiver down my spine. I tap my foot nervously, feeling the awkwardness settle in. I lick my dry lips, instantly regretting it as I catch the shift in his attention. His gaze flickers to my lips, and I shyly look away, heat rising in my cheeks.
“We’ll figure it out. It’s not our first rodeo,” he says, moving past me toward the exit. I exhale a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
My handbag vibrates in my hand. I pull out my phone. Tanya. I’ve been ignoring her since Saturday. Reluctantly, I answer, trying to keep my tone casual as I follow Andriy outside.
“Hey, where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you,” she says, concern lacing her tone.
“I’m at work right now,” I reply, glancing at Andriy’s broad shoulders ahead of me.
“What happened on Saturday? Or should I ask who you were with?” she probes.
I halt near the car, my eyes still on Andriy. “Tanya, I’ll be honest,” I say, lowering my voice so he doesn’t overhear. “I’m not doing any more parties in the dark. Not worth it.”
“Was it that bad? Who did you meet?” she presses.
I turn my head and catch Andriy’s narrowed gaze on me. Did he hear? The arch of his eyebrow suggests he’s pieced something together.
A wave of anxiety hits me as I realize I’ll have to endure the ride back with him. My emotions are in turmoil today. “Umm, Andriy, I think I’ll take a taxi back,” I stammer, wrapping up the call with a quick “Tanya, I’ll call you later” as I hurry to catch up with him.
His shoulders seem to broaden even more as he approaches, a sly smile creeping onto his face. “Milana,” he says, his voice low and teasing, “are you afraid of me?”
An eyebrow raises in playful challenge. Am I seeing subtext in everything, or is he genuinely teasing me? “Me?” I respond, my voice unsure. “Why would I be?” I add, less confidently. “Should I be?”
His smile widens, revealing a row of perfect teeth. “Damn, why does he have to be so charming?” I think, bewildered, and quickly look away.
“This man has a strange effect on me, and I thought I was over my last relationship! Yet here I am, flustered and confused. What the hell?!”
Taking a deep breath, I tilt my head defiantly and meet his gaze head-on, trying not to blink. He always manages to disarm me.
“Good. If you’re not scared, then get in and buckle up. I have another meeting,” he commands, striding toward the passenger door and opening it with an air of impatience.
I hesitate for a moment, caught between the push of my emotions and the pull of his magnetic presence. With no real choice left, I step inside, feeling the weight of the day’s tension settle over us as he closes the door behind me.