Because in an instant, he’s gone.
One second, Wesley’s leering in my face, and the next, he’s flying backward like a rag doll. Ripped away from me with brutal force.
A man in a plain black mask slams him against the opposite wall so hard, the drywall splits with a thunderous crack.
“Fuck! Get the hell off me!” Wesley thrashes, arms flailing like a fish on land, but it’s useless.
The tall stranger’s hand wraps around his throat. Tight, unyielding, and utterly calm.
I freeze. Because I know those hands. At least I think I do.
The man doesn’t speak, his forearm pressing into Wesley’s throat until his sputtering becomes silence, his face turning an alarming shade of blue.
Two more masked men appear. And once the first man releases Wesley with a shove, the others seize him, dragging him off like trash being taken to the curb. He kicks and shouts, sputtering threats about not knowing who they’re messing with. But they don’t give a shit.
Where are they taking him?
Probably throwing him out. Good riddance. Couldn’t have happened to a better bastard.
I force in a breath, brushing a strand of hair off my forehead and trying to steady my hands. My heart’s still galloping, but I manage to look up and meet the stranger’s eyes.
He’s still watching me. Still silent. So still it makes my blood chill.
Those eyes... God, they’re familiar. So is the way he moved…
“Um…thank you,” I manage, my voice far too calm for someone who almost got assaulted.
He doesn’t reply. Just keeps watching me instead, unnerving me.
“I’m not supposed to be here. It was supposed to be a business meeting, but somehow, we—” I stop myself, shaking my head.
Why am I telling this man all this?
“Anyway, I have to go. Have a good night.”
As I start to pass him, my shoulder brushing his arm, he doesn’t let me get far. He grabs my wrist—not enough to hurt, but firm enough to stop me dead—and pulls me closer.
And the moment I smell that insufferably delicious cologne, I know.
Aleksei.
“I’m almost insulted you didn’t recognize me,” he murmurs. “I thought we were friends, Ms. Prosecutor.” His lips stroke beneath my ear. “Goodfriends.”
My body prickles but I ignore it, stepping back.
I can’t believe it’s him. Does he have no boundaries left?
“Wh-what are you doing here?”
His knuckles brush across my jaw, the hollows beneath his cheeks deepening with the grind of his teeth as he laughs.
“My brothers and I own Rzvrt. Want a tour, moya ptichka?” His eyes drop to my mouth. “Or would you prefer to participate?”
Before I can answer or even think, his arm tightens around my waist, dragging me flush against the hard lines of his body. Heat blooms across my skin, any memory of how I got here dissolving into static. My mind short-circuits, my body completely forgetting who the enemy is.
He slides a hand up my thigh, toying with the hem of my black pencil dress like he has every right to.
I shudder, lashes lowering despite every cell in my body screamingdon’t.
