beautiful island. I can’t wait for Dasha to see the views in the morning when the sun is up.
We head to the villa Andrius has ready for us. One of his maids, Nina, shows us the way, and then shows Dasha and her mother to their respective rooms, me following her with the bags.
My room is the master, and it has an attached bath, whereas Dasha and her mother will share the one in the hallway. No matter because if I get my way, Dasha will be sleeping with me.
I want her so much it thrums under my skin. I watched her on the flight, and everything she does, every move she makes is elegant. The woman isn’t remotely self-conscious either. There’s a natural grace about her that few people possess.
People notice her too. She doesn’t pick up on it because she’s been conditioned by that shit of a husband to see herself as less than, but people notice her all the time. Men and women both.
I unpack my bags hastily and shove my things away. I don’t have much smart stuff with me, just my dark trousers and white shirt that I wore for the dinner the other night, and that I always take with me in case I need smart clothes. I’m not like K, who Cassie quite accurately described as a show pony.
I smile; that still amuses me. He is! Andrius too. Those two probably own a lot more expensive shit than their women.
Me, though, I’m a comfy jean and a sweatshirt or a t-shirt kind of a guy. I do have a couple of expensive watches, and that’s about it.
Which reminds me, I need to check my investments tomorrow and see how they are performing.
By the time I’ve showered, it’s late as fuck. I open my door quietly and head to Dasha’s room. Peeking in, I see she’s sleeping, or pretending to be asleep. It’s been an emotional day, so I leave her alone. Tomorrow, though, we’re talking whether she likes it or not.
I head back to my bed, and I fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.
Fresh coffee assaults my nostrils, and I wake up with bright sunlight streaming in through the curtains I forgot to shut the night before.
I sling on some sweatpants, foregoing a shirt because it’s hot, and head downstairs. Dasha is at the stove, stirring something in a pan. She turns to me, and her eyes widen as she takes me in. Her gaze rakes over my chest and down to where the sweatpants hang low on my hips. I’ve got a good body, and normally it’s not something I’m bothered about, other than keeping my strength and fitness up for my job, which used to entail fighting, and sometimes running. Now, though, I’m glad I look the way I do.
There’s a knock at the door, and I open it to see Cassie standing there, a basket in her arms and a big smile plastered all over her face. “Hey, Bohdan.”
Dasha’s tiny dog runs up to the door barking as if he’s a damn Doberman ,and Cassie’s face lights up. “Oh, my word, how precious. Who is this?”
“Mr. Bojangles,” I say, all serious.
She grins at me. “Killer name.”
She hugs me briefly and walks into the kitchen. I see Dasha take her in, the jealous way she examines Cassie’s figure. Cassie is wearing casual clothes. Her shorts are grey sweat shorts, with the Nike logo on them, and her tank top is made of the same material, and on her feet are running shoes. She’s tan, and her cleavage is impressive in that top.
It hits me then that Cassie is exactly the sort of woman that Jasper would have screwed around with. I wish Dasha could see that while Cassie is attractive, Dasha is truly beautiful. A rare beauty. She really doesn’t see it, though.
“I brought some bread and cakes that I baked the other day,” Cassie says, as sunshiny to listen to as she is to look at.
I can understand what K sees in her, but I prefer Dasha’s darker corners and sad soul. I’ve got a sad soul too, so we suit one another. I’d have to kill Cassie after a few days of her relentless positivity.
“Hey, where are you?”
I smile at K’s rough toned voice and wave as he comes in the door. “She’s here bringing baked goods.”
“I don’t know what happened to you?” he chides, but he’s grinning like an idiot. “You’ve turned into some