“Miss me already?” I leaned against the doorframe, letting the robe gape just enough to remind him what he was missing. “That’s cute, but—”
“Are you David Miller’s daughter?”
The question hit me like a slap. I blinked, then burst out laughing. “David Miller? Who the fuck is David Miller?”
But he wasn’t laughing. His eyes were cold now, calculating in a way that made my skin prickle with unease. When I started to close the door, he wedged his foot in the gap. “Don’t.”
There was steel in that single word, the kind of authority I recognized from Rafael’s world. This man wasn’t just some random pickup. He was something else entirely.
He produced a manila folder from inside his jacket, thick with photographs. My stomach dropped before I even saw what was inside, but when he fanned them out like playing cards, the bottom fell out of my world. Pictures of us from last night. Laughing at the bar. His hands on my bare thighs under the table. My head thrown back as he whispered something in my ear. Both of us looking like exactly what we were—two people about to fuck each other’s brains out.
“Professional quality,” I managed, though my voice sounded foreign to my own ears. “Someone’s been busy.”
He stepped closer, crowding me back into the suite. “If Rafael Kamarov sees these photos, what do you think happens to you?”
My blood turned to ice water. Rafael’s name in this stranger’s mouth felt like a violation, like he had reached inside my chest and squeezed my heart with dirty fingers.
“He wouldn’t—” I started, but the lie died on my lips. Rafael would absolutely lose his shit if he thought I was compromised. He’d assume I’d been feeding information to enemies, assume I’d betrayed him. He wouldn’t give me time to explain; he wouldn’t care about the truth. He’d just eliminate the problem. Permanently.
“FBI,” the man said, like he was commenting on the weather. “I’m what you might call well-connected in certain circles. These photos disappear if you listen to what I have to say.”
My hands were shaking, but I balled them into fists to hide it. “What do you want?”
His smile was all teeth and no warmth. “I want you to be exactly what you already are, Cassandra. Rafael’s loyal littleshadow. His trusted assistant who sees everything and asks no questions.” He paused. “Except now you’ll be answering them for me.”
The words hung in the air between us like a noose, and I knew with crystal clarity that my life as I knew it had just ended. Whatever freedom I thought I’d found in this hotel room, whatever small rebellion I thought I was staging—it was over.
I wasn’t Rafael’s shadow anymore. I was everyone’s.
The man—whose name I still didn’t know, whose body I had let claim mine just hours ago—tucked the photos back into the folder. “I’ll be in touch, Cassandra. And next time I call….”
He didn’t finish the threat. He didn’t need to.
I closed the door and slid down against it until I was sitting on the cold marble floor, the silk robe pooling around me like spilled blood. My phone buzzed—Rafael, probably wondering where the hell I was. I stared at the screen for a long moment, then answered on the third ring.
“I’m on my way,” I said, and my voice didn’t shake. It never shook.
Even when my world was burning down around me.
Chapter 1 – Drew
Kirill’s voice was still echoing in my skull like a fucking migraine that wouldn’t quit. I could hear every word of our conversation from three hours ago, each syllable digging deeper under my skin like shrapnel.
“Rafael needs someone reliable,” he’d said, leaning back in his chair like he wasn’t about to ruin my entire fucking life. “Maxim’s going to Italy for two months. Family business.”
I should’ve hung up right then. Should’ve told him to find someone else to play babysitter for Rafael’s American operation. But Kirill knew me too well, knew exactly which buttons to push to get what he wanted. “I recommended you.”
Those three words. Three simple fucking words that had just derailed everything I had built there in Russia. My office, with its bulletproof windows overlooking the Moscow skyline. My rules. My space. My life exactly the way I wanted it; no attachments, no complications, no weaknesses for enemies to exploit.
“????,” I muttered under my breath, the Russian rolling off my tongue like a prayer.Bitch.“???????.”Bastard.“?????????.”Traitor.
But even as I cursed Kirill’s name in every language I knew, the reality sat in my chest like a lead weight. I couldn’t say no to Rafael. Blood was blood, and in the Bratva, family trumped personal preference every goddamn time. He was my cousin, which meant his request was really a command wrapped in politeness.
I had two days to pack up my life and pretend I wanted to spend two months in Chicago, playing house with Americans who probably thought vodka came in flavored varieties.
***
The duffel bag hit the plane seat with a dullthudthat sounded final. Everything I needed for the next sixty days was crammed into black leather—suits, weapons, electronics, and enough surveillance equipment to monitor a small country. The necessities of a life I never wanted to live.
