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Breathing hard, she asked, "Now what?"
Nikolai straightened slowly. "You can hit me and kick and scream and throw a fit but
you're not putting that painting in the show. Just be glad I'm not putting a stop to the
entire thing."
She fumed now, her face red and her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I hate you."
He winced as her furiously spoken words slapped him right in the face. "I know."
Her jaw dropped. "That's it? I know. That's all you have to say to me?"
He didn't know what else to say. A painful silence stretched between them. Finally,
she exhaled raggedly and wiped at her eyes. Without another word, she spun on her heel
and stalked toward the door. Her high heels clacked against the hardwood planks, the
harsh notes hitting him like nails driven through his heart.
With every step, she increased the distance between them. He wanted to chase after
her, to grasp her by the shoulders and spin her around so he could claim her lips with the
kiss he'd so long denied them both. He wanted to crush their mouths together and drink
in her sweetness until they couldn't breathe. He wanted to tell her that he was sorry, that
he hated how complicated her life had become, that he wanted to give her anything and
everything in the world, that he'd do anything to make her happy.
But the lie standing between them prevented him from moving.
Instead he stared at the painting that threatened to ruin everything. Why, after all
these years, did she have to paint her recollection of that night?
The sound of Sergei's bellowing voice pulled him from his troubled thoughts. In the
next instant, he heard Vivian shouting at the enforcer. Growling with frustration, Nikolai
wiped a hand down his face and rushed out of the studio. As he hurried down the stairs,
Kostya's irritated voice joined the fray. From the sounds of it, Vivian was refusing to get
in Sergei's SUV.
By the time he got outside, Vivian was halfway down the block. The cold drizzle fell
even harder now, making it hard to see her in the cold mist. He shot Kostya a look of
consternation. "What now?"
"She refuses to go home with you. She told us to set fire to the warehouse and burn
everything in there because she'll never paint again."
He groaned at her melodrama. Playing the role of tortured artist seemed to come
naturally to her. "Give me the fucking keys."
Kostya slapped the set of keys to the black sedan against his palm. "Be careful, Boss.
She already hit Sergei."
The bear-sized man rubbed his arm and scowled. "I think she's got a brick in that
damn purse."
Cursing, Nikolai slid into the black car and revved the engine. He could only imagine
how ridiculous he looked racing down the block to catch up with her and beg her to get
into the car. She stopped to take off her high heels and ran barefoot down the cold, wet
sidewalk. Where the hell she thought she was going he had no idea.
"Vee!" He shouted her name through the rolled down window. "Stop being silly and
get in the car."
"Leave me alone!" She threw her high heel at the hood of the car and left a nasty gash
in the paint that was going to piss Kostya off big-time.
"That's not going to happen and you know it." His gaze jumped between her and the
road. He was thankful this area was nearly totally owned by him and mostly empty.
There wasn't any traffic to get in the way. "What's your plan, Vee? Are you going to walk
all the way back to your apartment?"
"Maybe," she spat back angrily. She fished around in her purse as she walked. "Or
maybe I'll just call Erin. She'll send Ivan to come get me."
"And then what? Huh? You're going to drag Erin into this mess with your father?" He
threw the car in park and jumped out of the driver's seat. Desperate to get her in out of
the cold, he begged, "Please, Vivian, get in the damn car. Let's go home and talk about
this."
"There's nothing to talk about, Nikolai. You think you can just bark orders at me, but
this isn't the restaurant and I'm not part of your family. You don't get to order me
around."
He exhaled roughly. "You're right. I'm sorry."
She titled her head to study him. "Are you really? Or are you just saying that because
you want me to stop causing trouble and get into your car."
"Both," he admitted. His gaze fell to her bare feet. The street lights illuminated the
bright turquoise polish on her toenails. "You're going to get hypothermia and lose your
toes."
She rolled her eyes. "This isn't Siberia."
Pressing his hands together in front of him, he pleaded, "Please. Get in the car?"
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