She stands and gathers her scattered clothes. I prop myself on an elbow and watch as she puts on her black panties and matching bra, pushing her breasts into the cups with shy efficiency. A pink flush creeps into her cheeks.
“What are you looking at?” she asks without meeting my eyes.
“You.”
Her mouth quirks. I can tell she’s unaccustomed to being devoured by an admirable gaze rather than one avoided by suspicion.
Snowflakes whirl outside, silver against the night. I glance at them briefly, then back to her.
“You don’t have to go out in that.” I tilt my head toward the windows. “There are guest rooms—quiet, warm. You should stay the night.”
She hesitates a heartbeat before shaking her head. “Bad idea.”
I know why. One night would turn into two. A bed down the hall becomes my bed, my rules, my claim. I smile slowly, predatory-like.
“As you wish.”
I thumb a quick message to the front desk,Driver in five,then set the phone aside. “Car will be waiting.”
“Thank you, Mr.?Angeloff.”
I can tell the title tastes awkward on her tongue now, the formality amusing after the way she just moaned my first name.
She smooths her blouse and slips on her blazer. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Eight o’clock sharp,” I remind her. “Baltimore won’t wait.”
A nervous nod and she heads for the door. I follow the sway of her hips—confident, unhurried. Every muscle in my body wants to haul her back, but tonight restraint is the greater power.
Just before she crosses the threshold she glances over her shoulder, eyes shimmering. I raise my tumbler in silent salute. She’s gone a moment later, leaving the scent of jasmine and sex in her wake.
The penthouse feels empty. A feeling I’m not used to. I drain the last of the whiskey, set the glass down, and let the snow steal my attention. Protecting her was never just about business. The line has now been obliterated, and Aleksander’s order sits like a loaded gun on my mind.
Empire or conscience.
My jaw clenches.
After dressing, I pour another finger of whiskey and decide to go into my office. Oak walls, steel-edged windows, a skyline that never fails to inspire. It’s a good place to remind myself who I am—and who I am not allowed to be.
I drop into a leather chair and close my eyes. There she is again in nothing but black lace, firelight licking every curve, mouth swollen from my kiss. The way she clenched around me… I couldfeel it in my soul. And that smile, half-shy, half-satisfied when she realized how completely I’d lost control.
And therein lies the problem.
I force the thought aside and another surfaces. One of marble floors, chandeliers, Maxim’s blood soaking Teresa’s gown while masked men sprayed the room with bullets. I remember moving without thought and returning fire, covering her with my body.
Duty, I told myself then. Bratva solidarity. I see now that was a lie. She pulled something out of me that night I couldn’t name.
But tonight was pure indulgence, and in my world, indulgence gets people killed.
I swallow the whiskey. Aleksander wants Teresa gone. Fool. His grief has rotted into obsession. He wants to ruin her career and damn her to the gutter, and still it wouldn’t be enough to fill the hole his son left.
I rotate the glass, watching amber streak the crystal.I won’t touch her again.My own voice, steel-cold in my head. I’ve tasted her once; that has to be enough. Empires fall when men like me confuse appetite with strategy.
I didn’t intend for tonight to happen. Yet when I walked into the study and saw her frantic search history, every restraint snapped like cheap thread. One kiss ignited the room. I should be terrified by how easily discipline abandoned me. Discipline is the only thing that has kept me alive this long.
Tomorrow the mask goes back on. I’ll brief Dmitri, dissect Volkov’s demand, decide who breathes and who disappears. I will look Teresa in the eye at eight a.m. and pretend my body isn’t still ringing with her name.
I set the empty glass down, unroll my sleeves, and stare at the snow swirling past the window.
