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Voices are murmuring, followed by soft laughter. Oh, I hate that laugh. It’s so practiced and fake. Ilya can’t be stupid enough to fall for that. I barely manage to contain my snort. Oh, he definitely will if he’s thinking with his cock.

Time for me to break up this party.

I open the door and walk inside, and the woman climbing into Ilya’s lap lets out a small screech and almost falls on her ass. Ilya’s gaze lands on me, and the instant our eyes connect, I see the flare of realization. Followed swiftly by triumph, fury, and lust. Interesting. Maybe he’s glad to see me after all.

I give him my widest smile, shut the door, and say, “My sweet kotyonek, I didn’t know you missed me so much that you had to pay for it now. I know I’m hard to get over, but surely, you could have done so much better than hiring a common streetwalker?”

He’s still and silent. The woman? She’s an idiot.

“Who the fuck are you?” she screeches. Her face twists into a deep scowl. “And the only one who looks like a streetwalker tonight is you, whore.” She moves beside Ilya and places her hand on his shoulder. Ilya doesn’t jerk his shoulder away from her, but he stiffens, the fabric straining against his broad shoulders. He doesn’t like her touching him. “And my man and I want nothing to do with this, so you need to get the fuck out before we call in security.”

I stare at that hand, and fury burns. Fast, angry, and I embrace it all. Something clicks in my mind. Something I told myself I would fight, but now, I have no desire to hold it back.

Mine. She doesn’t get to touch what’s mine. Ever.

I’m moving before either of them expect it, and even in these ridiculous heels, I can move fast. I grip her by the hair, wrenching her away, and she flies into the wall with a thud. After a sharp, pained cry, she slumps to the floor, clutching the back of her head.

Sensing Ilya moving, I spin, lifting my leg and hitting him straight in the chest. He falls back in his chair, and his gun clatters to the floor.

“I’ll get to you, pet,” I croon when he snarls at me and tries to grab my leg, missing by only a few inches. “But first …” Pulling my knife from beneath my dress, I back away to where the woman is sitting against the wall, still dazed. “Your little friend and I have a few things to clear up. Hope you don’t mind.” I grip the woman’s hair and yank her up. She lets out another cry but cuts it off as I bring the knife to her throat. “There you go. And you’re going to stay that way, aren’t you?”

She goes to nod but stops when the bite of the blade digs in at the movement.

“Excellent. Because, you see, you and I are going to have a little chat, woman to woman.” I yank her head back a little farther so she’s looking up at me. “See, you dared to put your hands on what doesn’t belong to you. And as you can tell, that’s a big no, no for me. I’m all about consent, you see.”

I turn and look at Ilya who hasn’t moved from his seat and is watching me with a dark expression, but his brow is furrowed as if he’s curious what’s going to happen. It’s his lucky day; he’s about to find out. “Because, you see, Tiffany, the only one who gets to put their hands on that man there, is me. We have some unfinished business to attend to.”

Her face turns ashen. “How do you know my name?” she breathes, voice trembling.

“Oh, I know everything about you, honey.” I move the knife from her throat and twirl it in my fingers, so close she tries to flinch away, but my grip doesn’t allow it. “I know that you started being a full-time escort four years ago after the rich old fucker you married died and didn’t leave you a dime. Oh, but you were pissed, weren’t you? Thought you were set. Now, you’re sleeping with more rich men for a price, hoping to land another one. And for the last few months, you’ve had your eyes on Romanov over here. And wasn’t tonight your lucky night?” I let out a dark laugh. “Well, it almost was. You might have gotten what you wanted if my plans hadn’t changed.”

“I-I’m s-s-sorry,” she says.

“Mmm, I’m afraid that sorry isn’t going to cut it this time.” I lean down and murmur, “Because you dared to touch what’s mine. And that means you’re going to learn a very important lesson about why you will never do it again.”

I drop the knife, but as she thrashes, I keep her in place and pull out the readied syringe. Tiffany screams, fighting me, but it’s too late. The drug is powerful enough to render her motionless in less than a couple of seconds, leaving her against the wall and staring straight ahead. “Perfect,” I announce, clapping once, then turn to find Ilya there, gun pointed at me.

Does he really think I didn’t know what he was doing? I’ll let him have that illusion. His steps are soft, but not soft enough, and he won’t kill me. Not yet. He’ll want to make his point first.

Men and their egos. So predictable.

“You’re lucky I don’t shoot you now and be done with it.” His tone is dark, foreboding even. All it does is make my thighs slick. Fuck, I’ve missed that voice.

“You could, but then you’d be the Pakhan who didn’t live up to his end of the bargain,” I remind him as I walk forward, not even looking at the gun. “And the one who shot the woman who saved his and his niece’s lives.”

“You say that like it should matter.” The gun doesn’t drop. Not even when I walk right up to it, letting it rest in the center of my forehead.

I can sense his uncertainty. That one move always freaks them out.

“It doesn’t,” I agree, my lips stretching into an easy smile. “I mean, who would know? But I don’t think you want to do that, do you? Or is it that you want to kill me because you hate that you want me as much as you do?” His eyes harden. Fury, resentment, but not denial. “And seeing me do that to the woman you didn’t want touching you in the first place, I think you like it. Is that the problem, pet? You like it a little too much, and it makes you want to despise me? Want to hate me?”

He’s so focused on my face, he doesn’t realize I’m slapping the gun away until it’s too late.

If I thought this would play out as it did in my dreams, I would have been sorely mistaken.

This is so much better.

Adrenaline pumps through my veins, my muscles strain to overtake him as he tries to pin me to his desk, sending things crashing to the floor. A quick arching of my hips has my ass connecting with his groin, distracting him enough I buck him backward, and he stumbles over his chair into the wall behind him. Right next to the one-way mirrors overlooking the club below.