Sunlight glinted off the bills, blinding.
A hundred bucks. That's what she thought last night was worth.
I walked over, grabbed the cash and note, tossed them in the trash.
Then I stood there, staring at the bin for a long time.
Finally, I fished the money back out.
Not because I needed a hundred bucks—it was nothing to me—but because it was from her.
I tucked it into my wallet, then headed to the bathroom to wash up.
The man in the mirror looked the same—sharp features, brown eyes, that blank face.
But I knew something had changed. Since last night, it was different, and it thrilled and unsettled me.
Because for the first time, a woman had made me lose control. I didn't know what came next. But I knew one thing: what I wanted was out of my grasp.
And damn, that feeling was addictive.
Chapter Five
Anna
A month later.
I gripped the sink and dry-heaved again.
My stomach was completely empty—that half slice of bread from this morning had long since come back up. Now I was just retching bile and acid, bitter enough to bring tears to my eyes.
Water stains splattered across the bathroom mirror, blurring my reflection. I looked up to see a stranger staring back—sunken eyes, sharp cheekbones, skin pale as a corpse.
Just one month, and I'd lost eleven pounds.
Not from dieting. From vomiting up everything I tried to eat.
I turned on the faucet and desperately splashed cold water on my face, trying to clear my head. Ice-cold droplets ran down my cheeks, mixing with tears, all swirling down the drain.
That morning scene flashed through my mind again—waking up in his apartment, sunlight streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows so bright I couldn't open my eyes. I'd turned to find him still sleeping, that devastatingly handsome face softened in the morning light.
My first reaction hadn't been tenderness. It had been panic.
What had I done? I'd slept with a complete stranger?
I'd crept out of bed, bare feet hitting the cold hardwood, limping as I searched for my clothes. My ankle still ached, a reminder of everything that had happened the night before.
After getting dressed, I'd hidden in the bathroom and pulled out my phone with trembling hands.
I had to know who he was.
I typed "Alexander Volkov" into the search bar and hit enter.
The first result hit me like a sledgehammer to the chest.
"Alexander Volkov. Russian-American mafia boss controlling New York's underground arms trade"
My breath caught.
