He gave me a look that was equal parts contempt and curiosity. “You starting to sympathize with her, brother?”
I smiled faintly. “You’d be surprised what I can sympathize with.”
Lev’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t answer.
Dmitri called over his shoulder, “Enough philosophizing. We go back, regroup, and decide how to use this information. And next time—if either of you finds her—tie her up andbring her homebefore you fuck her.”
The hum of our Maybach filled the silence. We’d left the Sheik’s palace twenty minutes ago, and Dmitri had been quiet the entire time. That was never a good sign.
Lev sat opposite me, his attention on the world beyond the tinted glass. His jaw was set, one hand curled into a loose fist on his knee. I’d seen that expression before; he was chewing on something, and he was trying to decide if he wanted to kill it or save it.
Finally, Dmitri broke the silence.
“Well,” he said dryly, “that went about as smoothly as one of Roman’s one-night stands.”
I arched a brow. “Meaning successful, memorable, and deserving of applause?”
“Meaning messy, expensive, and a disaster waiting to happen,” he said without looking back.
Lev smirked faintly. “At least he remembers those.”
“Careful, little brother,” I said, slouching deeper into the seat. “You’re still the one who let her get away after storming into her hotel like a jealous lover.”
His head turned sharply. “You’re still the one who let her drug you like an idiot.”
“I was being polite,” I said.
“Polite?” Dmitri’s voice cut through the air like a blade. “You were both thinking with your dicks. As always.”
I smiled, unbothered. “And yet it’s my dick that usually gets results.”
“Results?” Lev snapped. “She made you her puppet, and you’re proud of it?”
I spread my hands in mock-seriousness. “I didn’t invite her into my bed,” I said. “She followed me there.”
Lev laughed once, humorless. “You really can’t help yourself.”
“Would you prefer I start acting like you? Silent, brooding, scaring the help?”
Dmitri sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Enough. Both of you. We have bigger problems than your fragile egos.”
But I wasn’t listening anymore.
The Sheik’s words still echoed in my head:She isn’t one of theirs. She’s property.
I stared out the window as the city unfolded before me, tall buildings shining in the golden light of the sun. A flash of red caught my eye, taillights braking, neon, the color of her dress. For a second, it was her reflection in the glass. The tilt of her head, the curve of her lips when she’d smiled at me across the table.
And then it hit me, I remembered a little bit of her, the first crack in the blank wall of memory ARCHEON’s drug had left behind.
Her scent came next: jasmine and smoke, like sin disguised as perfume.
Then the sound of her voice—dry, amused, careful.
“Only if you’re worth admiring.”
The words slid through me like a whisper against skin.
I blinked hard and leaned forward, elbows on my knees.
