"That's not a color, that's an absence of color."
"Then I have an absence of favorites." I watch her roll her eyes. "Fine. Blue. Dark blue. The color of the sky just before full night."
She nods, filing the information away. "Favorite food?"
"Whatever you're eating."
"Dmitri."
"My mother's pelmeni." The words come out before I can stop them. "She made them every Sunday. Handmade. The dough so thin you could almost see through it. After she died, the kitchen staff tried to replicate the recipe. They never got it right."
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Vittoria
The bass hits my chest before we even reach the entrance.
Nexus pulses with energy tonight, bodies packed tight on the dance floor. The crowd parts for Dmitri like water around a blade. No one touches him. No one even comes close.
I recognize faces in the crowd. Beautiful people. Dangerous people.
We don't stop.
Don't pause at the VIP section where Amanda and I sat that night.
Don't acknowledge the bartender who nods at Dmitri with obvious respect.
We head straight for the hidden door. The one I walked through weeks ago, tipsy on champagne.
The hallway swallows the noise. Plush carpet muffles our footsteps. Black walls close in around us, gold accents catching the dim light.
Dmitri's hand finds the biometric lock. The door clicks open.
I barely cross the threshold before he's on me.
My back hits the wall. His mouth crashes into mine. No gentleness. No patience. Just raw, consuming hunger that steals the breath from my lungs.
His hands find the zipper at my back. One sharp tug and the green silk pools at my feet.
"Dmitri—"
He swallows my words. His tongue sweeps against mine. I'm wearing nothing but heels and the black lace underwear I chose to wear.
His fingers trail down my stomach. Over my hip. Between my thighs.
The lace tears.
I gasp into his mouth as two fingers slide inside me.
"Fuck." His voice comes out rough. Wrecked. "So tight, solnyshko. So fucking tight."
My head falls back against the wall. His fingers curl, finding a spot that makes my vision blur.
"Two years," I manage. "It's been?—"
His thumb finds my clit. Circles. Presses.
I whimper.
