The blinking red light was gone too.
Had he disarmed it? Or did it only blink when he activated it?
I ran out of the bathroom into my bedroom, tearing through the room, throwing my clean clothes all over the place as I hunted for my guitar repair kit and the pink-handled needle-nose pliers that came with it.
Once I had my fingers around them, I ran back into the bathroom and wedged the small, angled tip between two diamonds, clamping down on the platinum prongs.
Maybe if I removed the diamonds, I'd see the explosive and figure out a way to disarm it. There had to be a YouTube video or something. There was a YouTube video for everything—why not one for defusing a mini bomb?
My heart raced as I went through all the potential outcomes.
Everything from freedom to death.
I was so focused I didn't even realize I wasn't alone anymore.
Not until a voice behind me, dark and deadly, whispered, "I wouldn't do that if I were you,maya soloveylka."
CHAPTER 15
DARIUS
She whipped around to face me, the pliers in her hand raised like a knife. Her eyes were open wide as tears streaked down her cheeks.
"What are you doing here?" she screeched.
"Stopping you from doing something foolish," I said.
I grabbed her wrist with one hand and her throat with the other and whipped her around the room, slamming her against the wall just next to the metal bar that held her towel. The impact rattled the fixtures.
My grip on her wrist tightened until her delicate fingers released the pliers, and they clattered against the tile floor.
"Please let me go. Take this damn necklace off of me and let me go. I have nothing to do with my mother's politics. I don't know what she did, but I'm sure she deserves whatever you throw at her. I don't." More tears spilled down her face.
Fuck, she was beautiful when she cried.
Her eyes shining, her face wet, and her lips pink and swollen, as all the sweetest words spilled from her, making my cock throb with need.
She kept begging, and the more she begged, the harder she cried, the less control I had.
I leaned in and brushed my lips over her cheek, savoring the taste of her tears —salt and desperation— before, on some mix of impulse and instinct, I sank my teeth into her earlobe.
Her shocked gasp sent another wave of heat down my spine as my cock hardened even more, and I pressed against her. Her desperation was delicious, her words delectable, and her body responded to me like I owned it.
She was so goddamn addictive.
"Sorry, little one, that's not how blackmail works," I whispered in her ear before I kissed her, the mixture of her despair, her hatred, and her desire on her tongue irresistible.
Her free hand went to my shirt and pushed hard, her neck straining in an effort to turn her head, but I wasn't moving. For a good minute, she tried to fight me, but then her resistance buckled, and she melted.
My hand slid from her throat over the diamonds and then down to her breast, pinching her nipple through her dress until she rose on her toes and her hips ground into my aching cock.
"This isn't blackmail," she panted, her pupils blown wide with lust. She could fight me all she wanted, but her body didn't lie.
"Then what is it?" I asked, licking a tear from her cheek.
"It's extortion."
A dark chuckle escaped my lips. She was feisty, and I liked that. "I suppose you're right, but whether blackmail or extortion, I can't let you go."
