Dark Desire Lauren Smith (books for 8th graders .txt) 📖

in the major casinos. She scanned another channel and another until there was a knock on the door.

“It’s me,” Dimitri said.

She started to unlock the door, then froze. “What’s the password?” She felt like a silly kid, but he had warned her to do this, and she trusted him. He had kept her alive and safe so far.

“Phoenix,” he said.

With a sigh of relief, she undid the locks and let him in.

“You almost unlocked the door,” he said, a dark brow raised in challenge.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. This whole Spy vs. Spy thing isn’t easy to get used to.”

He tilted his head slightly. “Spy versus spy?”

“Yeah, you know, those cartoon characters with big hats and triangle faces, one all white, one all black. Always running around and trying to kill each other in espionage games?”

Dimitri shook his head in disbelief. “You Americans with your cartoons.”

“It was more of a comic strip.” She felt oddly compelled to defend her childhood. She actually liked comics. Sabrina the Teenage Witch and Wonder Woman had been her favorites.

He chuckled and retrieved his phone and suitcase. “You are sweet, kiska. Never change. Are you ready to leave?”

“Yep. You already switched cars?” She grabbed her suitcase and followed him to the door.

“Yes. I found something more appropriate.”

Waiting for them outside was a black Range Rover.

“Not exactly inconspicuous,” she pointed out.

Dimitri frowned, not following. “It is very inconspicuous.”

“Sure, but, you know, in that trying-too-hard kind of way.” He still didn’t understand, so she added, “Like you’re expecting people with dark sunglasses and suits carrying concealed guns to pop out of it?”

He shrugged. “You watch too many movies.”

“I suppose you just had another friend willing to lend you a car like you did the Aston Martin?”

“I do, and I asked him for this one because it has bulletproof glass.”

At this, her eyes widened. “Are we expecting to get shot at? I was only kidding about the men with guns popping out.”

“Under the circumstances, it is safer to plan for all scenarios.”

“I don’t think I want to know what the scenarios are.”

Dimitri lifted her suitcase into the back alongside his. “No, you do not.”

She climbed into the passenger side, and sweet heavenly smells hit her.

“Oh my God . . . Where did you get these?” She practically pounced on the cinnamon roll box between the seats. The bun inside was still warm, and the frosting was still gooey. A cup of coffee, steaming hot, was in the cup holder next to the box.

“I snuck into the Bellagio breakfast buffet.” He laughed at the look of shock he saw on her face.

“Seriously?”

“Why not? We are pressed for time.” He grinned, and the boyish mischief on his face was so appealing that Elena had to remind herself that this man was some sort of secret agent and not just a harmless, sexy Russian billionaire.

“You told me back in LA that you aren’t a spy.”

“I’m not. I just happen to have the same skills.”

“Tomato, toh-mah-toe,” she muttered.

“Sorry?”

“Never mind. So how long is the drive to Colorado?”

“Depending on the weather, it will be around ten hours. Though if we were going to cut straight through Utah, we could take a day to relax. I trust open land more than cities, and no one would expect us to stay overnight on parkland.”

“Parkland? Like camping?” Elena wrinkled her nose at the thought. She was definitely not a camper. Glamping, maybe, but definitely not roughing it.

Dimitri grinned as he pulled a lock of her hair. “Not a camper, little kiska?”

“Not exactly. I like hot showers and a door I can close against bugs.”

He laughed and shook his head. “A true printcessa.”

“Did you just call me a princess in Russian?” She scoffed, but only to hide a giggle. “Okay, I might be a bit of a princess. You know, when I was a kid my dad took me to this group of young scouts, called Indian Princesses. Totally un-PC, name-wise, I know, but it was fun. It was just dads and daughters. I loved all the adventures, but camping in tents with mosquitos was really not my thing. So Dad would flatten out the seats in our SUV, and we slept in sleeping bags in the car. One year there was a massive thunderstorm, and I was damn glad he and I were in the car when it hit. The rest of the girls and their dads got flooded out of their tents.” The memory warmed her, and she couldn’t help but smile as she watched the road ahead.

“You have a beautiful smile, Elena,” Dimitri said. “You must smile more.”

“You can’t say that here.”

“What?”

“Never tell a woman she should smile more. Trust me.” The frown on Dimitri’s face was one of puzzlement and disappointment, so she tried to explain. “The kind of men who say that tend to be creeps. They always say, ‘You should smile more, it makes you pretty.’”

Dimitri nodded. “Ah, I understand. They objectify the women, correct?”

“Something like that.”

“I did not mean it that way. Smiling can make you feel better. That is why I suggested it.” He offered his own smile, the gentle one that melted her inside out like a popsicle on a sunny day.

“I know,” she sighed, and her attempt at a smile faltered. The therapist at the US embassy in Moscow had told her that the act of smiling could often trigger feelings of genuine happiness. It was just so hard to think of smiling, let alone being happy, most of the time. But smiling, even laughing, was becoming easier and easier with Dimitri around.

“Why don’t you eat your breakfast and then try to sleep a bit more?” he suggested. “Sleep is nature’s way of healing, both emotionally and physically. I want you to feel your best. You deserve that.”

He was bossy, but in a sweet way, and she kind of loved him for it. It had been disorienting after two months in captivity, unable to make any choices about her own life, to be suddenly thrust back into full control. She had been