It’s only then that I realize I’m shaking. Not just from the physical aftermath, but from the way my mind can’t stop replaying every second of what just happened. The way he looked at me, the way his voice sounded when he told me to say I was his.
God. What the hell did I just do?
I bury my face in my hands, groaning against my palms. Because here’s the thing. I don’t know what’s worse, that I let him touch me, or that I wanted it so badly, I nearly begged. I wanted him enough that I’d been touching myself before that while thinking about him in the first place.
He’s a Mafia leader—a fuckingPakhan—a man I should be avoiding at all costs. And yet, when he looked at me like he wanted to devour every inch of me, I didn’t think about who he was or what he could be capable of.
I just thought about how badly I wanted him to keep going.
Sitting up, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and cup my hand between my legs to keep from dripping all over the carpet. I head to the bathroom to clean myself up, grabbing a towel from the linen closest inside to wipe myself down.
When I finally look in the mirror, I find my own face practically unrecognizable. My lips are still swollen from his kisses, my neck marked from his teeth.
I look like a damn mess. I look fucked out of my mind.
This isn’t good.
Actually, this is the exactoppositeof good.
I can’t let myself forget where I am or that I’m still essentially being held captive here, no matter how gently he wraps the chains around me. If I start softening toward him, if I start thinking he’s anything other than dangerous, I’m done.
And yet…
God, fuck me.
When I close my eyes, I can still feel his commanding tone that made me obey without question.
Heading back into my room, I sink back onto the bed, pulling the covers up to cover myself and hating that my body still hums for him even now.
I need to keep my distance from now on. I need to be smart. And I need to remember exactly what kind of man Maksim Antonov is.
But deep down, I already know I’m lying to myself.
I know if he comes around again, I’ll let him right back into my bed, no questions asked.
18
IVY
Come the next morning, when I wake up to a sore body and an even sorer core, the first thing that hits me is how utterly stupid I am.
Last night felt good in the moment, but now, in the gray light bleeding through the curtains, reality presses in hard.
I’m not here because I chose to be. I’m here because Maksim Antonov took me,stoleme, because he operates in a world I have no business being in. If I keep letting myself get tangled up with him and his mess, I’m going to end up buried so deep in this mess, I’ll never find my way out.
Or I’m going to wind up dead.
I have to be smart. Strategic.
Finding a way out isn’t going to be easy. Not when I’m trapped in an unfamiliar mansion in a city I don’t know, surrounded by people who think I’m the enemy or don’t even know I exist. The one place Idon’twant to end up in is some basement interrogation room that I know without a doubt that man has.
My getaway needs to be a clean break.
By the time lunch comes, my chance of getting out of here practically falls into my lap. The staff are busy preparing for some huge dinner tonight, darting in and out of the kitchen with their arms full of platters, barely glancing my way while I’m at the table scarfing down my panini and roasted green beans.
The guards stationed just outside the archway seem more interested in talking among themselves than watching me.
Remaining quiet, keeping myself small among the chaos, may actually be my ticket to remaining invisible.
