A soaked, almost transparent white shirt. I slowly lifted my gaze and pressed my lips together as I met blue, almost turquoise, eyes.Oopsie.
Wet hair clung to his forehead, sharpening the dangerous aura that surrounded him.
“You took your sweet time. Want a drink?” I asked lightly, ignoring the sudden heat pooling low in my belly as I turned back toward the counter to signal Hans.
I barely had time to react before my feet left the floor and I found myself hauled against a shoulder. “What the hell are you doing?! Put me down!” I shouted, hitting his back, but he ignored me and strode straight toward the exit.
I shrieked as rain lashed against my face and back as soon as we stepped outside. I hadn’t even noticed it was raining, no wonder he was soaked. “Sasha Ivanov, put me down right now!” That idiot Kenji had vanished the second Sasha appeared. Traitor.
How the hell had this Russian found me so fast? Was this bar under Bratva control after all, like Kenji had hinted? I had thought this neighborhood neutral, untouched by their wars.
He opened the car door and shoved me none too gently into the passenger seat, slamming it shut before I could react. I tried to open it, but he locked the doors as he walked around and slid behind the wheel.
“Buckle up and shut your mouth,” he said darkly as I opened my mouth to unleash a tirade.
I stared at him, offended, lips parted, as he started the engine. When I didn’t move, he sighed, leaned across me, and grabbed the seatbelt himself. His knuckles brushed against my chest through my shirt, sending an unwanted shiver through me. I told myself it was just the cold. Nothing else.
His gaze lifted slowly, lingering on the rise and fall of my breathing, then traced my throat. His brows knit when I swallowed. His eyes finally met mine, studying every line of my face. I could swear I felt the ghost of a touch on my skin. His expression remained carved from stone, yet it betrayed one thing unmistakably, desire. He could hide it all he wanted; I knew the look. I had learned to recognize it long ago.
I shivered again, from the cold, obviously and after a few seconds he pulled back. I didn’t miss the way he inhaled sharply, as if irritated. Or shaken.
He adjusted a few controls, and warm air flooded the car, brushing my damp hair. He glanced at me from the corner of his eye before pulling onto the road. I crossed my arms and turned away, jaw tight. I needed to calm down, regain control of my damn body, and my mind. I had managed for years. I wasn’t about to let some Russian idiot undo all of that with his cursed eyes.
An hour and a half later, after a drive thick with silence and tension, we reached the manor gates. They opened after a briefsecurity check, but His Highness Ivanov didn’t move forward. He kept staring down the driveway, hands clenched around the steering wheel.
I growled, unbuckled my seatbelt, and tried to get out, only to find my door still locked.
“Unlock it. I’m getting out,” I snapped over my shoulder but he didn’t look at me.
“Sasha!” I shouted, yanking the handle uselessly, my fists clenched as anger surged. I tried, truly tried to stay calm, but he had a gift for driving me mad with that cold, untouchable composure. Untouchable. Like some damn prince.
“Let me out!” I yelled again, striking his shoulder, his arm, his chest, anything I could reach. When I swung toward his jaw, he caught my wrist in a sharp motion. I froze, breathless, as he finally looked at me, still impassive.Damn fucking robot.
“Let go,” I hissed through my teeth, feeling his tension flare. “You lied to me,” he said darkly, yanking me against his chest. His scent flooded my senses, and my heart stumbled traitorously. I had known many men in my miserable life, but none had ever affected me the way Sasha Ivanov did. My body betrayed me, trembling, breath shortening, heat pooling, while my mind unraveled. Around him, all my thoughts bent toward him: how to provoke him, how to push him, how to make him react. Anything. Even with his family, his smiles, his rare jokes, everything felt rehearsed, false. As if he were hiding something behind a mask and uncovering it had become a damn obsession.
I licked my lips, trying to steady myself as my mind slowly caught up with his words. He was referring to earlier, when I had said I felt unwell after his family left.
“I didn’t lie. Being around you makes me sick,” I spat, struggling uselessly against his grip. “I can’t stand the sight of you! Not in photos, not in paintings, not even in fuckingsketches! You’re so full of yourself, so cold, so controlled! You drive me insane! Someone should…” My words died as his mouth crashed against mine with brutal force. If he hadn’t been holding me, I would have stumbled backward. My eyes flew wide open, his were shut tight, brows drawn as if even he didn’t understand what he was doing.
His second hand came up to my cheek, warm against my cold skin, snapping me out of my shock. I tried to push him away, but he slid his hand into my hair, gripping gently at the roots and tilting my head back. A sound escaped me, a traitorous, startled sound as sensation surged through me.
He took advantage of my parted lips to slip his tongue between them, warm and insistent. I closed my eyes in spite of myself as a wave of heat spread low in my abdomen. The hand that had been pushing against his chest only moments before now clutched at his shirt instead. Holding him there. He groaned softly into my mouth when my tongue met his, answering the kiss.
“You enjoy this?” the same sinuous voice whispered suddenly, the one from the bar. “While they suffer? While they’re terrified? Or already dead?”
I startled, biting Sasha’s lower lip. He pulled back with a low growl. Breathless, shaken, I struggled to steady myself. She wasn’t there. She wasn’t. She was gone. Dead. Because of me. It was always my fault. “Sienna?” Sasha called, his hands loosening their hold. His voice sounded muffled, distant, as though I were underwater. “Sienna, are you alright?”
“Oh, she’s perfectly fine,” the voice purred again. “So perfectly fine that she indulges her desires while the others suffer.”
I shut my eyes and pressed my palms against them, leaning forward until my forehead touched the cold console. My head throbbed, I had drunk too much. I felt the car start moving again as Sasha’s hand came to my back, rubbing slow, grounding circles. Only then did I realize I was trembling. I needed rest. Order. Control. I needed to think. But I couldn’t, not with him so close, not while he touched me, not while his voice wrapped around my thoughts.
The moment he stopped the car and unlocked the doors, I bolted out without waiting, ignoring his voice calling after me. Rain was still pouring, heavier now, soaking my hair and clothes as I rushed toward the entrance. “Come back here right now, Sienna!” he shouted.
“Go to hell!” I threw back over my shoulder, slamming the door behind me, breathing hard, trying to calm the storm inside my chest, anger, yes, but mostly at myself.
I barely had time to turn before Selina appeared in front of me and threw her arms around me, crying. My anger dissolved instantly, replaced by guilt, old, heavy, eight years old and still growing, gnawing at me day after day, destined to devour me whole.
I tried to reassure her, but she slipped into full mother-hen mode. Over her shoulder, I caught Nikolai’s dark gaze and deliberately ignored it. I had reached my limit with the Ivanovs for one evening. This battle would have to wait until I had eaten something.
