Satin Princess(64)

I grab my phone off the coffee table and check to see if Lev or Yulian has called with an update. There’s a missed call and text from each of them.

Lev’s text is short and frustrated. No sign of her anywhere.

Yulian’s text is more optimistic. Nothing yet, but I’m going to fucking find her, okay? We barely started this search. There’s still lots of stones left to turn. You just take it easy and take care of your woman.

A part of me is starting to feel guilty for how hard I’m being on him. I must be going too far, if even Lev can point it out.

I scroll through my contact list absentmindedly, and do a double take when I come across Marina’s name. I linger there. A part of me still wonders if she’ll pick up if I call.

We have another plan in motion. A plan to lure her out into the open. I have no idea if it’ll even work at this point, but I’m running out of patience.

Taking care of Jessa is now my number one priority. Because Yulian is right—she is my woman. And I will do whatever I need to do to make sure she’s safe from that fucking bitch.

I press Marina’s name. And, surprises stacking on top of surprises, it starts to ring.

And ring.

And ring.

For ten or twenty long rings, like yelling into an echoing canyon, I wonder if I’m only talking to myself. Then there’s a click and an automated voice invites me to leave a message after the beep.

“I hope wherever you are, you hear this message,” I growl into the staticky silence. “I’m coming for you, Marina. And this time, I promise to kill you myself.”





22





JESSA





Anton has been making intermittent moaning noises since I put the omelet down in front of them. None of them have risen to the level of anything I’d call detectable human speech, but I’m taking it as a good sign anyway.

Besides, I’m a little distracted by his lack of a shirt. He’s sitting on a barstool at the kitchen counter, his chiseled chest drawing my eyes away from the view of London behind him. I don’t mind—I much prefer my vantage point.

“Good?” I tease.

He grunts. I’m pretty sure it’s an affirmative. Then he looks up at me, swallows the absurdly big bite he’s got in his mouth, and mumbles, “How?”

“How what?”

He jabs his fork at the plate. “How?”

I grin. “There’s a little crème fraiche, three different kinds of cheese, a secret blend of herbs and spices, and an even more secretive technique I’ve perfected through blood, sweat, and tears. I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”

He shovels in another gargantuan bite. “I want it every meal for the rest of my life.”

I bask in his praise. I also congratulate myself on getting my mojo back. Apparently, there’s a direct correlation to how happy I am and how well I cook.

This whole scene is giving me the goosebumps. Me, in my element in front of a stove while Anton sits close by eating my food. It’s the very picture of domesticity. And for a moment, I allow myself to live the fantasy. To picture kids and dogs underfoot, sunshine through the windows, music on the stereo…

“Are you going out today?” I ask tentatively, hoping I won’t sound too needy.

“For a little while, yes,” Anton says. “But I got you some company while I’m away.”

“Great,” I mutter. “Can’t wait to hang out with that ray of sunshine you call a righthand man.”

“Be nice to Lev,” he chuckles. “Anyway, it’s not him. Margaret and Thomas called yesterday to ask about you. I told them we’d be leaving the country soon so if they wanted to stop by and visit, they could. They should be here any minute.”

I brighten up. “That’s great news! I should go and change.”

I slip past him and head to the bedroom. I’m still wearing the nude slip from the night before. It’s got his scent on it now, so I’m not sure if I’ll ever wash it.

I swap it for jeans and a soft woolen sweater. When I come out of the bathroom, Anton is standing by the bed putting on a shirt. I try not to look too disappointed as his abs are covered up.

“Got a call from the receptionist downstairs,” he says. “Margaret and Thomas are on their way up.”

“You don’t have to find babysitters for me, you know,” I scold, even though I’m excited to see the couple again.

“Don’t I?” He smiles. “Try and relax. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

For a second, we stand opposite one another. I have no idea of the correct protocol here. A couple would kiss and see each other off. But we aren’t that. At least, I don’t think so.

As mindblowing as the sex was last night, it didn’t exactly clear things up for me. Seeing my hesitation, Anton moves forward and presses his lips to mine. It’s brief, lasting only two seconds.

But damn—it means everything.

Then he pulls away and heads for the door. I follow him out to the main living area just in time to see him open it for Margaret and Thomas. He greets them both politely and then points them into the suite. Their eyes go wide as they take in the luxury.

“Wow,” Thomas breathes. “Look at that view.”