Normal is small, quiet, meek. Normal is dying of mediocrity.
But now I can be more.
“Fuck, Gabe,” I moan, grinding into his mouth. “Oh my god, I’m so close.”
“I want to break you, Nika. I want to ruin you and taste you and swallow you, sweet fucking girl. Come for me, my beautiful wife, come for me right now and let me taste it.”
Oh god, that filthy man. His low, resonant voice shatters me. I break, like he wants, the orgasm ripping through my body in heavenly waves of bliss. I nearly black out, and I only realize I’m saying his name when it begins to fade.
He leans back, watching me with terrible eyes. I adjust myself, as he licks his fingers clean. Then he leans forward and kisses me. I taste myself on his lips.
“That’s a good girl,” he says and I shiver with how much I like hearing it.
“We should probably go back out there, right?”
“Those are my men. They can wait for as long as I tell them. Besides—“ He gently helps me put myself together. Panties back in place, dress fixed, hair smoothed. “They’re drinking and smoking on our dime.”
“What happened to running all the expenses by me?”
“Consider this my itemized report.”
I scowl at him, but I’m too happy from my post-orgasm haze to fight. Which might’ve been his goal from the start, I realize, as he pushes the table away and steps into the hall. This is the first time he’s officially using my money, and I need to set tight boundaries or else he’ll roll all over me. But he turns and holds out a hand with a faint smile, and I feel my cheeks turn crimson.
God, I’m screwed.
For all my bullshit back in that room, I’m still the same girl I’ve always been, and when a strong man tells me to do something—I’ve learned to do it without complaining.
The consequences are better that way.
I let it pass, even knowing I shouldn’t, and a little piece of my confidence dies as I follow him back down the hall and into the meeting room.
Smoke fills the place. I notice more than a few knowing grins. Gabe ignores them, but he does pull me into his conversations, especially when they stray to business. I realize he’s establishing my role, making it clear that my speech earlier wasn’t allbullshit. Maybe he can roll over me, he’s suggesting, but these men most certainly cannot.
Although I’m extremely aware of Marat's eyes on me the whole time from behind a cloud of smoke, a thoughtful and dark curl to his lips, like he’s considering a cut-open pig and wondering which parts are the best to eat.
CHAPTER 11
GABE
Izip my black tactical jacket tight as wind whips through the hills. It’s unseasonably cool tonight, which isn’t a problem. The ground is uneven, but the moon is out in full. Clouds drift over the light, casting long shadows. Daniel stays close as we ghost toward a large exterior wall topped with crushed glass and metal spikes.
“You’d think security would be tighter,” I say under my breath as we scale to the top. Daniel uses a brush to clear glittering shards into the night. I hoist myself over and land on the other side. Daniel comes down a moment later.
“Better this way,” he says, brushing his hands on his jeans. He flips the rifle from his back and holds it loosely but ready. “I prefer an easy job.”
No argument here. When it comes to an ambush, it’s better if the target’s got no fucking clue it’s coming.
My earpiece crackles. Voices check in, one after the other. My best team confirms that they’re in position. Ten men spread across the grounds, surrounding the place. One reports troublewith a guard, but they were dispatched quickly, and since I didn’t hear anything, they must’ve done it silently too.
The best muscle money can buy. Cash beats loyalty any fucking day. I don’t look forward to showing my wife the expense sheet, but she’ll understand how necessary this was.
My mind flashes back to that meeting. Rage rumbles in my chest. I grip my own rifle, holding it against my shoulder, barrel aimed down at the ground. The memory of Marat’s disrespect is like a hot iron in my skull. Ever since he spoke to my wife like that, it’s been a struggle not to kidnap him and kill him slowly.
But we needed him, despite everything.
We creep through scrubby trees toward a massive white house. Lights are everywhere. Half a dozen cars are parked out front. I spot guards patrolling near the front door, but they don’t look particularly worried. Likely local guys. I gesture at Daniel and we skirt around the edge of the garden, angling toward the back yard. Our breach point is the rear door. When we’re in position behind some nicely manicured bushes, I call in over the radio, whispering our location. I get a chorus of answers as my men fall into place, one at a time.
I peer across the yard. There’s a nice pool, light playing on the calm water. It looks like some piece of shit mansion TikTok influencers rent to look fancy. Everything is clean, modern, and boring as hell. Sometimes I miss Moscow with its crumbling Soviet-era architecture, the brutalist spine of the city like a string of concrete blocks, but at least the Russians understood decoration. Lots of rugs, lots of drab reds, oranges, blacks, and grays, and tons of different Cyrillic-inspired designs. Beats the hell out of this glass bullshit.
