The professional book kresley cole6/21/2023 ![]() ![]() ![]() Kovalev is keen to meet you.” He added almost to himself, “I’ve never seen him so eager.” “I’ve worked for your father for decades. Call me Sevastyan.” Like Sebastian with a v. “And this would be my m.o.?” He exhaled with a kind of surprised impatience, as if no one had ever argued with him before-as if he’d done this to a hundred other girls, and every one of them had started packing with a Yes, sir. For all I know, you could be a human trafficker!” “I’m not doing anything, not until you tell me where you think I’m going. Everything else will be provided for you.” When he tossed the empty bag to me, I barely caught it. “What the hell, Russian?!” If he’d noticed the titles-my general field was the history of women and gender-they didn’t faze him. The History of Sexuality, The Boundaries of Eros, A Thorn in the Flesh. Seeming to shake himself, he snagged my sizable book bag, dumping library books on the floor. He raked his eyes over me in my robe, lingering on choice parts of me. I’d packed for school in laundry baskets and boxes. “What does that have to do with anything?” I didn’t have real luggage. Trying not to think of how short my silk robe was-and what he’d just caught me doing-I poked my head out of the bathroom no sign of him. When I didn’t hear anything, I had a weird surge of panic that this man-a new source of answers, an alleviator of curiosity-had vanished as quickly as he’d appeared. ![]()
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