salty. Obviously, I was eating my feelings, and the woman behind the counter was judging me the entire way.
I ignored her, grabbing a bottle of cucumber-flavored soda to wash it all down with.
After last night, the impending doom of going home and wearing Carter’s diamond ring tore at my every nerve, but I couldn’t just abandon my life forever. Not for a city that didn’t welcome me. Not even for a man who made me feel for the first time in my life.
I wasn’t naïve enough to believe I could hold Ronan’s attention for more than a week. The thought of never seeing him again already ached like a hot coal in my chest. How bad would it be if I gave him my virginity?
I had to go home.
It was the only lasting thing I had.
I dropped my load on the counter. The cashier looked completely unimpressed with my purchases, but she didn’t say a word as she rang me up.
I paid with one of my last ruble notes, planning to go to an ATM soon. I could no longer live on Ronan’s generosity. It didn’t feel right anymore.
Making my way out the door, I ran into someone.
“Izvinite pozhaluysta,” I apologized, reaching down to pick up the candy bar that fell out of my bag—but I froze when tattooed fingers reached it first.
I was more than familiar with Ronan’s hands, and these weren’t his.
An icy breath escaped me as I lifted my gaze to the man’s face. The same man I saw twice before. His frigid eyes touched my skin, spreading frost beneath my clothes.
“You must be more careful,” he said, his voice heavy with a Russian accent.
I swallowed. “Of course. I apologize.”
He looked at the candy bar in his hand, holding onto it possessively. My heartbeat was stuck in my throat, feet frozen to the sidewalk.
“Late time to be out for a girl so young,” he drawled, and with a sweep of my body, he added, “so beautiful.”
It was only half past nine, but the sun had set hours ago. The convenience store’s outside lights shone so brightly they were almost glaring, yet fear cloaked me like a shadow.
“There are bad men out at this time, you see.” His attention rested on the candy bar he took his time opening. He bit off a piece, and his gaze met mine. “We would not want anything bad to happen to you, would we?”
I shook my head.
“Then continue on.” He gestured for me to go with the candy bar, but I was already walking away, feeling the crawl of his eyes on my back. “Enjoy your snacks . . . Mila.”
The haunting sound of my name on his lips squeezed my lungs.
I walked aimlessly down the street, unable to shake the foreboding presence that touched my skin. It was a Friday night, and multiple people were out, but the crowd did little to quell my anxiety.
After stopping at an outside ATM, I got lucky to see a taxi dropping someone off in front of the movie theater and slipped into the back seat before he could flip his “Vacant” light on.
The driver spewed a plethora of Russian complaints—something about being done for the night and his mother—but when I handed him a wad of cash, he shut his mouth. He watched me through the rearview mirror, exasperated, when I gave him vague directions to Ronan’s restaurant. Flustered, I mentioned Ronan’s full name as if it may help, and, surprisingly, it did.
Annoyance fading, the driver looked at me like I just sprouted horns from my head. “Vy uverenny?” Are you sure?
“Da?”
He muttered something in Russian that sounded like, “I hate this job,” before he put the car into drive.
With shaky hands, I dialed Ivan’s number. My skin chafed with impatience as it rang and rang, and then, finally, it went to voicemail.
“Ivan . . .” I began, my throat thick. “I don’t understand what’s going on, but I think you’re right. I think someone might be watching me. I’m sorry for not believing you . . .” I swallowed. “I—I met a man. His name is Ronan, and he owns a restaurant. I’m going there now. I’ll text you the address when I arrive.” My voice cracked. “I’m scared, Ivan.”
I didn’t know what else to say, so I ended the call.
The driver sped off as soon as I stepped out and shut the door, probably hurrying home to his mother. Darkness shrouded the restaurant. It looked closed, but the door wasn’t locked,