“I won’t touch you,” he mutters menacingly. “Why?” “Because it’s more expensive for yourself to get involved with inexperienced youngsters.” “Do you recommend that we go and gain some experience, and then try our luck with you again?” - Unable to bear it, I sarcastically. He suddenly jumps to his feet and, grabbing my mane with his fingers, forces me to throw my head back. He’s breathing heavily, as if he was about to bark something, but only changed his mind at the last moment. His dark gaze darts from my eyes to my lips and back. Yaroslav Sergeevich barely noticeably leans towards me and I’m even afraid to breathe, reading the unshakable determination in his gaze...