Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
FIONA
My body locks the instant I register his voice.
It doesn’t just reach me. It wraps tightly around me. Every cell reacts. Blood rushes like static in my ears, goose bumps rise along my arms, my thighs clench on instinct, and there’s a flutter low in my belly, like prey sensing the predator.
Then, slowly, I pivot, already cursing the way my pulse stammers and the betrayal of that deep throbbing between my legs.
And there he is: Aleksei Marinov. Lust, danger, and everything I’ve tried to forget.
He towers over me, easily six-four to my five-six, standing just a few feet away like he owns the pavement. Like he owns me. A devil in all his glory.
One hand’s tucked into the pocket of his tailored coat, posture deceptively relaxed. But those eyes, they’re fire and violence and possession wrapped in ice. He rakes them over me, slow and unapologetic, carving himself into every inch of skin they touch like it’s his right.
There’s nothing gentle in it. No pretense of civility. Everything about him is raw and unrepentant, and it hits me like a match to dry kindling.
I should look away, give myself the illusion of distance, but my eyes stay locked on his.
I remember walking out of court near the end of the trial, hands shaking with adrenaline, furious I was losing and even more furious at the low curl in my gut every time Aleksei’s gaze found me. And now he’s like a shadow I can’t outrun. A reminder. A threat. A temptation.
The man I tried to destroy…and the one who’s still destroying me.
He takes one step toward me, and I take one back, caught between craving his touch and retreating from the threat he so clearly is.
“What the hell are you doing here, Marinov?”
I don’t even know why I’m asking. It’s obvious he’s been following me, but the real question is how he’s able to find me every time. I’ve had experts sweep my car, my house, my goddamn phone, and nothing.
He keeps closing the distance until the car meets my back and I have nowhere left to escape him or the way he affects me.
“That’s obvious.” His Russian accent trails over my skin like rope tightening around my throat. “I followed you to make sure you don’t get mugged. I’m quite the gentleman.”
When I scoff, the corner of his mouth lifts in that slow, cocky twist that should repulse me. Instead, it sends need licking down my spine. His presence devours space as he draws even closer, stealing breath, thought, and logic until there’s barely a whisper between us.
“You look different.” The heated pools of his eyes trail the length of my body like he’s committing it to memory.
No, like he already owns it.
“I can’t decide if I prefer picturing myself stripping you out of those uptight little suits you wore to court…” His finger lifts, skimming the edge of my neckline, just beneath the V of my dress. “Or tearing this tight little thing off you instead.”
Every nerve ending lights up, my core tightening painfully. “Just because your brother and my best friend are married, it doesn’t mean I’ll let you fuck me. Now back off.”
But I don’t even convince myself, my voice giving out.
“You are right…” His fingers trace down between my breasts, each stroke unraveling another thread of resistance. “You’re the last woman I should be anywhere near.”
His breath grazes my cheek, while I can’t seem to move.
“Yet here you are,” I whisper. “Following me like a lost little puppy.”
My palm hits his chest, hard muscle beneath cotton. He chuckles—low, dark, amused. I push again, but he doesn’t budge.
“Get away from me.” This time, I mean it.
Maybe.
Footsteps scuff the pavement behind him. Some stranger passing through, unaware of the war unfolding.
Aleksei doesn’t turn. Doesn’t even flinch. His body cages me, pressing into mine, while his gaze pins me just as tightly, like he’s daring me to run. Like he already knows I won’t.
“Ma’am, are you okay?”
Aleksei’s jaw twitches as he cups my cheek, the sensation causing me to forget how bad this is. His mouth drops to my ear.
“Say one wrong thing and he will be dead before you can take your next breath.”
And I know he means it.
“I’m fine.”
The stranger nods. “Okay. Have a good night.”
When he walks away, I breathe a sigh of relief. Only when his car drives off does Aleksei move, his fingers tightening around my jaw, thumb dragging lazily across my bottom lip.
A shiver skates down my spine.
“Good girl. I like it when you’re obedient.”
I despise how those words melt something inside me. “Don’t ever call me that again.”
His husky laugh sends liquid heat down my body. “But you like it, don’t you, moya okhotnitsa? I bet if I dipped a finger inside that cunt, you’d soak it.”
My core instantly clenches.
How the hell does he know? And what does that word mean?
“Listen to me, asshole. This ends now. You need to stop following me. Toying with me. Because if you don’t, I will file a restraining order. And when you violate it, I’ll bury you so deep in the system, they won’t even find your teeth.”
“You’re very adorable, even when you play the frozen little ice princess. But I bet when I get you under me, you’ll be soft, warm, and agreeable. And if not…” His knuckles softly graze my cheek. “I’ll fuck the frost right out of you.”
I slap him before I can stop myself. My eyes expand the moment it happens, and his smirk widens, a growl spilling from deep in his chest.
His grip finds my throat, squeezing tight, while his body pushes into mine until I can feel him thick and heavy against my stomach. “That was not very polite.”
“Let me go.”
He tsks. “Not until you apologize. Nicely.”
I tip my chin up, needing to fight whatever is happening here. “Fuck you, Marinov. This isn’t a game.”
His mouth hovers near mine, so close I can taste the promise of a kiss in the air between us. “I beg to differ. Because I’m having a lot of fun.”
His lips skim down the side of my throat, and the moment his mouth touches skin, my head tips back without permission, colliding with my car. A soft sound escapes me, and I immediately regret it when I see the smug expression on his gorgeous face. That same one he wore when he beat me in court.
Revulsion surges through my veins, colliding with the hunger I wish I could kill. I squeeze my eyes shut, and I’m back in the shower after court, fingers working between my thighs as I imagined all the filthy things he’d do if he ever got close enough.
And now here he is, touching me like he has the right.
Because who’s going to stop him? Clearly not me.
“You should know, Ms. Prosecutor…” His words are a husky drag over my skin. “You’re the one who came to my bar. Maybe I’m the one who needs a restraining order from you.”
His bar? Oh God.
“I didn’t know…” The confession slips out on a breath as his hand slides to my hip, then lower.
“Prove it.”
My heartbeat stutters as his fingers slip under the hem of my dress, slow enough to make my lungs ache. He grazes bare skin, dragging upward, his touch a lazy threat that feels more like a promise. Inch by inch, higher and higher…until his knuckles ghost along the sensitive inside of my thigh.
A moan shivers out, my lips parting against my will. “Don’t.”
The word is both fragile and unconvincing. Because I don’t even know what I mean.
Don’t stop? Don’t go further? Don’t make me beg for something I swore I’d never want?
But he ignores me, fingers lingering, his body caging mine, his mouth so close I can almost taste him.
Every second drags until my knees threaten to give.
His erection digs even further into me, and it’s obvious no matter what he thinks of me, no matter how much venom we’ve spat at each other, our bodies want.
They crave. And there’s not a damn thing either of us can do about it.
His mouth dips to the hollow beneath my ear, the warmth of his exhales wrapping around me, branding me. Fingertips trail up my leg, drawing fire over my skin until they pause just shy of the place that would strip me of whatever control I’m still pretending to have.
My fist finds his thick hair, gripping hard like it’s the only thing keeping me upright. His hold around my throat clamps, cutting off just enough air that I’m dizzy, painfully aware of how close I am to coming from nothing but the power he’s holding over me.
Why couldn’t this be anyone else? Why does it have to be him?
But would it even be this good if it wasn’t?
“How should I prove it?” The words come out low.
I’m desperate for a reprieve, some distraction from the madness clawing through me.
He eases back just an inch, enough to make the air rush between us, hitting me with a half-grin that makes my stomach twist. “You’re the lawyer.”
His mouth ghosts over mine, barely brushing my lips, making every nerve scream for more.
“Figure it out.” His voice drops, rough and deep, stroking over the parts of me I’ve fought to keep buried from him.
His other hand toys with the strap of my thong, knowing exactly what he’s doing. My eyes flutter shut, my body arching into his touch, craving what I swore was off-limits.
He’s a murderer, Fiona. The kind of man you hate. Men like him destroy people.
And he will destroy you.
But my mind and my body are at war, and my body is winning.
When he slips my panties to the side and drags his fingertip over my clit, a broken whimper escapes. My clutch in his hair tightens, my teeth grinding as his eyes pin mine, watching me like this is the only thing keeping him alive.
“You like it, don’t you?” He slides inside me slowly, barely breaching the entrance.
“No.” The word catches in my throat, my walls squeezing him.
“You’re not much of a liar, Ms. Clark.”
Then he drives two fingers into me—hard, deep, stealing my breath.
Before I can scream, his palm clamps over my mouth, muffling the sound as he pounds into me faster, harder, forcing every ounce of control from my limbs. My nails dig into his hard biceps, needing something to hold on to, until it’s like my body doesn’t belong to me anymore.
The lot is silent except for my muted cries, the slick rhythm of my arousal, and the low, merciless cadence of his exhales while his gaze never leaves mine.
I’m so close. Too close. My eyes roll back, frantic to escape the intensity, but his head gives the smallest shake.
“You look at me. Only me. You will remember who made your cunt drip this good.”
I force my vision back to his, and the flicker of satisfaction on his face makes my blood boil.
“That’s it.” Dark approval drips from each syllable. “You obey so well.”
His words ignite something in me, fury tightening my jaw while need pools low, shameful and sweet.
I hate that I like it. Curse him for knowing it.
His mouth curves like he’s reading my mind. “It’s okay to lose control. Give it to me, okhotnitsa. Because it’s already mine.”
“I’ll never give you anything.”
A dark chuckle rolls out of him. “Except this.” A hard thrust steals my breath. “Look at you, dripping down my fingers like a desperate whore. I bet you’d taste even sweeter begging for it.”
My blood pumps louder in my ears, my core pulsing.
Another rough thrust and my body trembles on the edge. Just a little more and it’ll be over. I can go home. Pretend this never happened.
“But you…” His tone dips lower, harsher. “You don’t deserve it.”
The next drive of his fingers is sharp enough to make my knees buckle. His nose drags up my throat, inhaling me like he’s memorizing my scent.
“You don’t deserve anything from me except the humiliation of knowing exactly what I can make you do…any time I want.”
Then…he stops.
What?
The absence is violent. Every nerve in my body screams in protest, heat slamming into cold.
No. No, no, no. That son of a bitch.
He eases back, that haughty look etched into his face like it’s been there his whole life as he slides one hand into his pocket as if none of this ever happened.
“Y-you…” My words fracture, too jagged to form anything coherent.
He tilts his head, studying me like I’m a puzzle he’s already taken apart piece by piece.
“You should get home, Ms. Prosecutor.” His voice turns low and deceptively gentle. “Late night. A lot of dangerous men out there.”
Then he turns, strutting away like I’m already forgotten. While I’m still here, breathless and furious, shaking with something that has nothing to do with fear.
Desire. Loathing. Temptation. A tangle of contradictions, all tied up in the man I didn’t want to be close to.
Yet his presence still clings to me—on my skin, in my breath—like he never left at all.