Page 60 of The Harbinger
It was disgusting to feel for him.
But—
The vehicle stopped in front of his office building, wrenching me from my destructive thoughts.
“Do you want me to wait here? Or will they take me home?”
“You’ll be coming in with me,” he said.
I pressed my finger into my chest. “Me?” Glancing back at the tall building, I gulped.
“Is there anyone sitting in this vehicle other than the two of us?”
I glanced up to the front seats where Dmitri and Ivan had been sitting, only to find them empty, the two men now standing outside the vehicle by our doors.
When did they get out?
“I guess not.”
“Then I’m talking to you.” Sacha rapped his knuckles on the glass, and his men opened the doors.
I placed my hand on his arm, halting him. “Even after what just happened at the hospital?”
A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Sometimes we must learn the hard way. Besides, I’m a glutton for punishment.”
My spine stiffened as he stepped out, and my door opened.
What exactly did that mean?
I slipped out of the SUV, staying clear of Ivan as my feet hit the curb. Sacha and Dmitri arrived just in time to meet the two other bodyguards from the hospital. Sacha’s hand came to rest on the small of my back, shooting an electric current through me. But as soon as we reached the building, I sidestepped away from him, and the pressure in my chest dissipated.
Why was this happening? This wasn’t normal.
I won’t allow him to confuse my body and my mind.
We moved through security with alarms beeping frantically behind us, but Sacha didn’t pause for the guards to wave us through. Dmitri took the lead and cleared a path to the private elevator, then swiped a security card. The doors opened, and Sacha’s fingertips touched the small of my back, guiding me inside.
He stood beside me, his hand never leaving my back, just like at the hospital. Soothing music played from the speakers as I dropped my shoulders and my fingers fidgeted in front of me.
“You don’t like elevators?” he asked, his head tipped toward me.
“More like the company inside of it.”
My gaze darted toward Ivan, who stood in front of me when he glanced over his shoulder. The elevator doors opened, and the men filed out in synchronicity.
“Alexander Ruslanovich,” a woman with platinum-colored hair said, stepping out from behind her desk. Her hair was pulled tightly back into a French twist, and her pouty lips were painted a deep crimson, making her porcelain skin look almost snow white. Her blue eyes flitted between Sacha and me, taking in the scene.
A bitterness stung the back of my tongue as she handed him an envelope, and I stepped into him, his hand building pressure on my back. Ripples of warmth moved under my skin as his fingers wrapped around my side and squeezed, a move that didn’t go unnoticed by the woman.
“Vasha pervaya vstrecha zdes’.”
Sacha nodded, guiding me through the sliding office doors. Ivan and Dmitri followed us in while the other two men remained outside, blocking the entrance.
“Take a seat,” he said, gesturing to the seating area of angular chairs and a cream-colored sofa with dark wood siding. A short, square coffee table sat between them, with a gleaming teakettle and cups atop it.
“This is your office?” I surveyed the room, more like an apartment than an office, minus the kitchen.
Sacha settled into his chair on the other side of the desk while Ivan sat in one of the chairs, his gaze fixed on the door where Dmitri stood, arms crossed in front of him.