Ruthless Saint

XXII

MIKA MALIKOV

        I was never the type of girl to be possessive over a man but as I watched Mischa stalk through the restaurant, I was finally beginning to understand. Or maybe it was this specific man.

        I couldn't deny there was something about holding to his biceps as we walked, making me feel all protective in some feminine way I couldn't understand.

        He dragged me through the front before the host in the front could stop him.

        A single glance towards his waistband and the man paused in his steps, taking a step backwards and returning back to the front of the restaurant.

        He bulldozed his way through the restaurant, jaw tight and a heavy look that I knew would most likely be the last thing someone saw before they died today.

        We stopped by a booth, and he gestured for me to enter. I did as he asked, watching him but he wasn't planning on sitting, I could tell.

        Pavel slid into the booth, across from me. They were talking amongst themselves in Russian, but I didn't understand an ounce of what they said.

        Maybe Mischa was right. I should learn a bit of Russian or some word of endearment.

        I was scrolling on my phone, switching between texting Elena and playing a word game.

        He grabbed my chin to get my attention and murmured, "I'll be back. Try not to cause trouble, da?" His words held traces of humor but the expression on his face was tight.

        I nodded.

        He looked at me for a long second, before he walked away.

        I'd hoped Mischa would be done with his business because I was getting hungry by the second but after the first hour he still wasn't done.

        Pavel ordered me an entrée I couldn't pronounce and some soup when he heard my stomach growling.

        A couple of hours had passed before Mischa texted, ordering me to go home with Pavel.

        I wasn't going to argue since I could hardly stop yawning and dozing off.

        I didn't remember anything about the ride back to the mansion. All I distinctly remember was crawling into bed with Roxy and falling asleep a second later.

        I wasn't the type to wake up in the middle of the night unless I had a nightmare, but I knew it wasn't a nightmare. It was something else.

        A crack jolted me awake. Icy fingers gripped me in the dark, clawing their nails into my neck until I couldn't breathe.

        I jumped out of bed, disorientated and before I could process what was going on, I was already halfway down the hallway.

        "Mischa?" I knocked on the door impatiently. A second passed but there was no answer.

        I raised my hand to knock again before the door opened, revealing Mischa.

        He was standing in the doorway still dressed in his usual black attire and I suspected he had recently arrived from business.

        He watched me for a second, his gaze examining my body for any injuries.

        I swallowed. "Can I come in?"

        He stepped to the side and opened the doorway, allowing me to enter. My body was shaking a bit, trembling as I stepped into the room.

        The bathroom door was open, and a subtle glow illuminated the room.