I let her ride it out, stroking my hand over her cheeks while she trembled beneath me. When she went limp, I tugged her shorts back up, then scooped her into my arms and stood. She didn’t resist.
I carried her to the en suite like a king holding his conquered queen.
She was still dazed, and her breath was hitching softly. I stood her in front of the vanity, facing her toward the mirror, my arms bracketing her.
“Look,” I whispered, bending down to her ear. “Look at how beautiful you are when you’re satisfied.”
She blinked—stunned, flushed, perfect.
“When you behave,” I added, kissing her just below her ear, “you’re exquisite.”
She whimpered.
I smiled.
Gave her ass one last pat.
“Get cleaned up.”
Then I turned and walked away, already thinking of all the ways I’d ruin her next. She would be mine. Every inch. Every breath.
And she’d beg for it.
Chapter thirty
Steam billowed around me as I shoved the glass shower door open, stepped inside, and let the scalding water beat down on my skin.
I needed this—needed to step back and pull myself together. That girl had wrecked my focus and fucked with my head like no one else ever had.
Lyla had burrowed under my skin and cracked something wide open. I didn’t lose my cool—not ever. My mind always found the next move. If someone crossed me, they disappeared. If someone stole from me or hurt what was mine, I made sure they never got the chance again. And if I thought someone deserved help, I gave it—anonymously.
But with Lyla…the rules didn’t apply. The way she’d gotten to me didn’t compute.
I braced both hands against the marble wall, letting the water lash my back and sear across my muscles to remind me I was still made of flesh and bone. I wasn’t the cold-blooded machineeveryone thought I was, nor the monster I’d trained myself to become.
But maybe I’d never been that ruthless—not really. If I had been, she wouldn’t be locked in my guest room right now. She would be off with whatever scumbag Delgado had sold her to. Or at least, out of my hair and far away, living under whatever new identity I’d paid to conjure for her. Another problem solved.
But no. I’d burned down a club, started a fucking war, and infuriated half the syndicate to keep her alive.
A girl who hated me.
A girl who looked at me like I was the devil in a tailored suit.
This morning, when I’d told Luca what had happened, he’d gone quiet, which was worse than yelling or veiled threats. All the other syndicate members, along with the Volkovi Notchi, were livid. I’d acted on my own against the very threat they were making meticulous plans to take out. I could hear my mother’s voice in my head:You risked it all for a girl? For some American strip club whore?
I exhaled hard through my nose and reached up to rub the water off my face. They didn’t get it. They never would.
They didn’t know what it felt like to be a human under layers of steel refrain.
Didn’t know what it was like to watch her step onto that stage and light up the dark like she was born to be worshiped. To listen to her smart-ass mouth and want to rip the sarcasm right off her tongue with my own. To cradle her half-naked body after she nearly died and realize that maybe I didn’t want to be alone in this hell anymore.
I wanted her.
I wanted to bury my cock in her tight, wet pussy and fuck her until she forgot everything but me—until I owned her, body and soul.
I wanted my name and only my name on her tongue when she cried out in pleasure, her voice breaking, her walls clenching, her thighs shaking around me.
I wanted her on her knees, hands bound behind her back, looking up at me like I was her goddamn world. I craved her complete and willing submission.
