The back of his hand feathers over my breast, fingers pinching my nipple until I moan in pleasure, needing more.
“No,” I whisper, tipping my head back.
Something shifts in his expression at that, darker and heavier. “Then ask me who I am, malenkaya vorovka.”
My thoughts tangle. I don’t want the answer. I’m afraid of it, afraid it will change everything. That whatever this is between us won’t survive hearing it out loud. The small, fragile pictureof the family I let myself build in my head already feels like it’s cracking.
“Ask me, Sloane.” He leans closer until his mouth is just before mine, his breath warm against my lips. “Ask me who just saved you.”
My grip tightens around his bicep.
“Who…who are you?” The words barely make it out.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he leans in, and his lips meet mine for the briefest moment, a barely there kiss that I feel in every part of my soul. I slide my hand into his hair and pull him closer, but with a low growl, he catches my wrist and tips my head back, stopping me.
“Don't do that,” he warns. “I won't be able to restrain myself if you kiss me, and I'm trying really hard to be a gentleman right now.”
I don’t want you to be…
My God, what’s wrong with me? Why do I still want him so badly?
“Are you a criminal?” The question barely makes it out.
His deep chuckle rolls through me. “You could say that.”
“What kind?” My pulse hammers louder.
I don’t want to hear what he’s about to say, but I need to. Maybe this will be the moment it finally sinks in, the moment I understand how far away from him I need to stay.
“Russian Mafia.”
A cold shudder rolls through me.
Oh my God.
I didn’t see that coming, but I probably should have.
Now I’m going to have to steal from him. From the Russian Mafia.
That is, if he doesn’t find out and kill me first.
How the hell am I supposed to break into some safe now that I know who he is?
But what if I stall? What if I make Eli believe I’ll do it long enough to get to Milo and run? If I get that auction money, I could. Half of one and a half million is more than enough to disappear.
“Go get dressed,” Kirill says, and the unease inside me only deepens.
He turns away while I change. When I’m done, he faces me again, and his gaze sweeps over my pencil dress, making me suddenly aware of every inch of my body.
Casually, he slips out of his suit jacket and wraps it around me.
“It’s cold outside,” he says softly against my ear, then kisses my temple like I matter.
The tenderness resonates more than anything else tonight.
And I pray he never finds out that I'm here to betray him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
