57

Is it just me, or am I already being bossed around in my own house? Deep down, I note that I… kind of liked it?

I carefully pull the needle from her vein and put a bandage over the puncture. Meanwhile, Anya watches me closely, barely breathing. We’re standing so close I can feel the warmth of her breath on my skin. I hold onto the brunette’s hand longer than necessary, stroking the spot through the bandage with my thumb as if making sure it’s stuck well. Watching what I’m doing, Ann swallows hard and yanks her hand away.

"Since you’re already moving and walking, clean yourself up and come to the kitchen. You need to eat," I snap out of it and start giving orders, quickly leaving the bathroom.

I want her so badly and I’m going so crazy for her I could pounce right there. But there’s time for that later. She’s exhausted as it is, she needs to regain at least a little strength.

While setting plates and silverware on the kitchen table, I made a couple work calls. I won’t be at the salon for the next few days and need to leave instructions with my trusted managers. Finishing the call, I see Ann walk into the kitchen and I practically want to purr with pleasure.

She was wearing my clean black T-shirt, and from under it I could see her gorgeous slender legs. And the thought that she might not have found her washed underwear hanging in the bathroom… refused to leave my head.

"You have a huge apartment," the girl says, looking around the kitchen as she walks to the table. "Hidden complexes or delusions of grandeur?"

"I like space," I chuckle, and we sit down.

"I noticed the pole in the living room. Is that a mandatory attribute for a manwhore? Or do you practice pole dancing yourself? Who knows what side hustles you had. You turned out to be full of surprises, daddy," the little brat sneers.

The pole has been in my apartment since I bought it. I’ve thrown some very interesting parties here with girls, and that piece of furniture has seen a lot of entertaining events. Though after meeting the “old” Anya, I firmly decided to get rid of it… but didn’t have time. And now I know damn well I won’t.

"No. I needed the pole to get myself a personal stripper. So don’t be shy about using it."

Another angry glare flies my way from those beloved eyes. Without answering, Anya starts eating her soup.

"When can I go home?" the beauty asks without looking at me.

"Not anytime soon."

"Nazar, don’t start! I’m not staying at your house longer than necessary. Besides, I need my personal things! I can’t walk around in just panties and your T-shirts!"

"Go without them. I don’t mind, and you’re not exactly unaccustomed to it."

"Idiot!" the beauty mutters, rolling her eyes so hard I swear they did a double backflip.

"But keep in mind, I’ll take it as an invitation for sex! Don’t get offended later! Though… you won’t have anything to be offended about," I deliberately and cheerfully scan the girl I crave, which pisses her off and only fires me up more.

"Why are you doing this?" the girl glares at me angrily, not understanding.

"Well, before you dumped me, I told you why," I turn serious, staring at the girl without blinking. "Want me to remind you? I love you, Ann, and you’re seriously fucked with me."

"Pfft!" she snorts contemptuously, crossing her arms over her chest. "You could’ve told me anything in that moment! That’s your strategy. How many “mommy types” have you fucked using your nephews, promising love till death…"

"You’re the first one I had to involve outsiders to get attention from. Usually I don’t have those kinds of problems. And you’re the first one I actually feel what I said for."

"I don’t believe you and never will…" came the ominous reply.