“Mm.” The chair scrapes as I pull in, her lips so close to mine I can almost taste it. “I like it when you say my name. Say it again, detka. Slower this time.”
Disgust twists her face, and I drink it in.
“I will work night and day to make sure you rot in here. Every time you wake up, I want you to remember exactly why you’re here, and exactly who put you inside. You understand me?” Her features turn with something that resembles victory, but it will unfortunately be short-lived.
“Da. I understand, my sweet Fiona. But I know one thing.”
I reach out, dragging the pad of my finger across the top of her hand. She sucks in a sharp inhale, but doesn’t pull away. My smile widens.
“And what’s that?” Her voice is tighter now.
“That when you go to bed and close your eyes…” My gaze descends to her mouth. “It’s me you see.”
“I—”
“Don’t deny it, Ms. Clark. It’s beneath you.” I meet her stare, and something sharp knots in my chest. “What do you see, hmm? What do I do to you? What do you want me to do? I bet you like it rough. You want a man who takes every inch of you without asking. Even now, I can tell from the way you press your thighs together, you want me to burn that fire right out of you. Isn’t that right, Ms. Prosecutor?”
Her composure cracks—only for a second, but I catch it. The faint flush in her cheeks. The heat rising in her skin.
She hates me. But she wants me just as much.
“Fuck you,” she snaps.
“Not yet. But we’re getting there.”
She rises in a rush, turning to leave, but I speak before she can take a step.
“You ever wonder why you came?”
Her body goes taut.
“You could’ve said no. Could’ve ignored my lawyer. But you didn’t. You put on your tightest little suit, slicked your hair back, and walked right in.” I let my smirk deepen. “You needed to see me up close, didn’t you? Just once. Needed to know if I was real. If that look in my eyes was imagined.”
She turns back, gaze molten, like she wants to burn me alive.
“You’re done, Marinov.” Her mouth presses into a hard line.
I rise slowly, letting her see how much control I still have, even here. The Marinov name carries a lot of weight, especially in prison.
“We’ll see about that.” My words are low, almost gentle.
Her hand lands on the door, and the guard buzzes it open.
“Run, Ms. Prosecutor,” I call. “Because when I catch you…it won’t be the law you’re begging for.”
The door shuts behind her, and I can almost feel the echo of her pulse in the air.
She’s deeper in the game now, tangled with me in ways she won’t admit. And that’s exactly where I want her.
CHAPTER FIVE
FIONA
PRESENT DAY
The morning sunslips through my blinds, far too bright for the kind of thoughts I woke up with.
Two days. That’s how long it’s been since Aleksei Marinov pinned me against my car and reminded me exactly why I can’t stand him and why I can’t stop thinking about him either.
