97

Chapter 9
Nikolai
Things with Abigail have been weird the past few days. She has not flirted with me once and actually pays attention in combat training.
I should be relieved, but the sudden change has me worrying about the woman.
Needing some fresh air, I head out to the gardens and pull my phone from my pocket. Dialing Maxim’s number, I listen as the line connects.
“Miss me already?” my friend asks with a chuckle.
“Hell no.” Grinning, I ask, “You haven’t changed your mind about protecting Camilla DuBois?”
“You won’t let me,” he mutters. “I just landed in Paris. Relax. The girl won’t get killed on my watch.”
I glance to my right and frown when I see Abigail sitting in front of an easel. I don’t know why I’m surprised to see that she’s painting.
It’s probably because I never thought there’s more to her than just the flirting.
“Let me know if you need anything,” I tell Maxim.
We end the call, and I slowly walk closer. Coming up behind Abigail, I’m in for another shock when I get a view of the piece she’s working on.
Time falls away as I watch her create a painting that’s nothing short of a masterpiece. Every stroke of the paintbrush brings the picture to life until her version of the canopy of trees running along a pathway looks more real than the actual view.
Suddenly her hand freezes mid-air, and she glances over her shoulder. “Oh. Hey.”
“You paint?” I ask like a dumbass. “You’re good.”
“Is that an actual compliment from the great Nikolai Vetrov?” she teases
me.
“Yes, and it’s not something I give often.” I step closer and take in the
work of art. “Did you study?”
“Painting?” she asks as she wipes her hands off on an old rag.
“Yes.”
Abigail shakes her head. “No. It’s just something I love doing.”
She stands up and takes a deep breath as she looks at her work, then she clears her throat and turns her eyes to me. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Frowning, I shake my head. “What loss?” Abigail stares at me for a moment. “Your wife.” Oh. Right.
Abigail found out I was married. That must be the reason she suddenly stopped flirting with me.
“So you do have your limits,” I chuckle. “You don’t do widowers.”
A frown forms on her forehead. “Seriously. I pay my respects, and you choose to insult me?” Turning her back to me, she starts to gather her paint supplies.
Fuck.
“It was fifteen years ago.” I don’t know why I’m telling her about my personal life.
She shoves the paintbrushes into a holder, then glances at me. “It’s tragic. No one should lose the love of their life at such a young age. I’m really sorry.”
I can see she means the words, and because this is the first real conversation we’re having, I admit, “Anja wasn’t the love of my life.”
Abigail’s eyes search mine, then she frowns. “Was it an arranged marriage?”
I shake my head. “It was Anja’s dying wish. She loved me.”
Abigail’s lips part, and a look of wonder washes over her features. “You married her just to make her dream come true?”
Why the hell am I telling her this?
Reluctantly I nod.
The corner of her mouth lifts, then she mutters, “Wow, and here I thought you didn’t have a heart.”
She continues to pack her things, and when she shrugs the bag over her shoulder and takes hold of the easel and canvas, she grins at me. “Is this your way of telling me you like when I flirt with you?”
I can’t keep the corner of my mouth from curving up. “Don’t push your luck, little girl.”
She starts to walk, and when she passes by me, her voice is low and seductive as she purrs, “Yes, Daddy.”
I close my eyes as the impact of the sinful whisper hits.
While I harden at the speed of light and my muscles tense, so I don’t grab the woman and fuck her senseless, Abigail pauses to ask, “Do you give private lessons?”
I clear my throat before I answer, “No.” Turning to face her, I’m fully aware if she looks down, she’ll see my hard-on. “Why are you asking?”
“Some of the guys here are giving me the creeps. I just want to be able to defend myself.”
My eyes narrow on her beautiful face. “Which guys?”
She shakes her head and starts to walk again. “Don’t worry about it.”
It only takes me a couple of steps to catch up to her, and when I take the easel from her, I say, “I have an hour before dinner.”
Abigail glances up at me, and this time a breathtaking smile curves her lips. “Thank you, Mr. Vetrov. I appreciate you making time to train me.”
I prefer ‘Daddy.’
God, I’m not right in the head, and it’s this vixen’s fault.
Not saying another fucking word, I carry the easel to Abigail’s suite and follow her into the room.
The scent of her perfume hangs in the air, and I notice two other paintings standing near the windows.
As I set the easel down, I ask, “Do you only paint nature scenes?” “No. I paint whatever I feel like.”
“We need to discuss payment for the private lessons.”
A mischievous grin spreads over her face as she places the canvas on the easel. “Oooh, I like where this is going.”
“I want a painting.”
Surprise flutters over her face. “Oh.”
I tilt my head as I lock eyes with her. “I want you to paint one specifically for me. A work of art no one else will have access to.”
“Wow, don’t ask for the impossible,” she sasses me. “You have two months.”
“Why only two months?” she asks as she walks toward me. “I’m only helping out at St. Monarch’s until then.”
Her eyes flit to my face as we leave her suite, then she mutters, “I’ll have to up my flirting game.”
Letting out a chuckle, I shake my head. “God, help me.”
For the first time since I met Abigail, I’m not overcome with the desire to strangle her.
When we walk into the studio, I say, “Get your ass on the sparring mat.” “Yes, sir,” she murmurs, her voice filled with seduction.
She takes a fighting stance, mischief dancing in her eyes.
As I circle her slowly, I wonder what the fuck I’m doing. Abigail stopped flirting with me, and I practically begged her to start again.
For weeks she’s been driving me insane, and when she stopped, it pissed me off to no end.
Before I can make sense of my emotions and thoughts, I dart forward. I swipe her feet from under her, and the moment she hits the floor, I’m on top of her.
This time when I grab hold of her wrists, she ducks toward me and uses the strength she’s managed to gain over the past weeks to push me to the side. I give her the win so it will encourage her.
When I roll off of her, the woman straddles me. Her lashes lowering as she says, “I like this position.”
Twisting my body, I throw her off while I mutter, “I’m sure you do.”
We wrestle for a moment, but knowing she has to up her game if she wants to fight off a man, I pin her to the mat.
“I’m stronger than you. How do you get me off you?”
She bites her bottom lip, then taunts me, “Who says I want to get you off me?”
Glaring at Abigail, I shake my head. “Stop with the flirting for one second and focus on the training. You’ve been captured, and there’s a man on top of you. What do you do?”
She brings her knee up against my back, then twists her body hard. I tighten my hold on her arms, forcing her back.
“Jesus,” she mutters. “You’re like a mountain. I can’t get you off.” “Fight harder, Abigail!” I bark.
She strains against my hold, and as I think she’s giving up again, she turns her head and sinks her teeth into my forearm.
A smile spreads over my face as I let go of her wrist. She doesn’t hesitate and delivers a punch to the side of my neck. The blow stings, and again I give her the win as I climb to my feet.
“Good.” I wait for her to stand up, then say, “Never wait to attack.”
My words aren’t even cold when Abigail darts forward. Her foot slams into my ankles, and she drops me to my ass.
Throwing her arms in the air, she lets out a happy shriek which is cut short when I sweep her feet from under her. The second she hits the mat, she turns onto her side and pushes her upper body from the floor.
I’m on top of her before she can make another move, pushing her front down onto the mat.
Christ, she feels good beneath me. Focus on training!
“This time, you can’t use your teeth.” I pin her arms on either side of her head. “What do you do?”
“Nothing. I’m fucked in this position,” she mutters as she tries to blow strands of hair, which have come loose from the ponytail, out of her face.
I lean down on her until my mouth is by her ear. “Really? You’re not even going to try?”
She slams her head back, her skull hitting my jaw. Again I release her and climb to my feet. “Very good. You’re learning.”
She pushes herself into a kneeling position and grins up at me. “Two compliments in one day.”
“Three,” I correct her as I gesture for her to stand up and follow me to the dummy we use for training. “Watch closely,” I instruct before I perform a kick to the dummy’s head.
“You’re going to have to do that again,” Abigail says.
Her eyes follow my movements as I demonstrate the kick one more time. When I stand back, she gives it a try but only manages to hit the torso.
We spend close to thirty minutes working on the kick before Abigail manages to slam her foot into the dummy’s head.
“Yes!” she shrieks, and the next second she’s throwing her arms around my neck. “I did it!”
I grab hold of her hips, but Abigail pulls away from me before I can reciprocate the hug.
Christ, I wanted to hug her.
Our eyes lock right as the realization hits me.
I want to do a hell of a lot more than hug her. I want to strip this woman naked, handcuff her to my bed, and fuck her until she’s unable to breathe.
Nope, we’re not going there. Before I can do something stupid like pin her to the mat and fuck her raw, I mutter, “Training is over.”
I walk out of the studio and keep going until I reach my suite so I can sort through my thoughts and emotions because, during the course of the day, Abigail became more than just a tempting force to be dealt with.
I actually want to fuck the woman who’s been driving me insane with her carefree attitude, sass, and flirting.
Today I saw a different side to Abigail, and she’s impressed me.
For the first time in my life, I feel a flicker of fear because I actually want to spend time with her. I want to get to know Abigail and find out what other talents she keeps hidden from the world.