Maggie
I wake up tangled in cool, dark sheets that definitely aren’t mine.
For one heavy, foggy second, I stare at the ceiling and wonder why it’s so dark in here, why the mattress feels too big beneath me, and why the air smells faintly of cedar and cologne instead of my lavender laundry detergent and the strawberry candle burning itself into a slow death on my nightstand.
The memory crashes into me so fast my stomach turns.
Alexei.
His mouth on mine. His hand on my waist. The way he looked at me like he’d already made up his mind about me long before I realized it.
Sweet Lord.
I jerk upright so fast the sheet slides down my chest, and panic jolts me fully awake. I’m in Alexei Agapov’s bed, at his mansion, after spending the night with him.
A quiet rushing sound fills the quiet room. I glance at the partly open bathroom door, where steam rolls into the bedroom in pale waves. The shower’s running. He’s in there.
“Oh, no,” I whisper, pressing both hands to my face. “Oh, honey, no.”
Ivy.
What if Ivy sees me? What exactly am I supposed to tell a six-year-old if she catches me sneaking out of her daddy’s bedroom at sunrise, looking like a woman who made several questionable life decisions?
And worse. What if Alexei regrets this?
The thought sinks low in my chest in a way I don’t enjoy even a little.
Now that it’s morning, last night feels unreal. Men like Alexei don’t fall into bed with women like me and wake up eager to repeat the experience. They wake up polite and distant, pretending the night before was just a passing moment.
I slip out of bed as quietly as possible and grab my dress from the floor with shaky hands. My heels are tipped over by the chair, and my bra is hanging from the lamp like it got thrown there in the middle of a natural disaster.
“Classy, Maggie,” I mutter.
The shower keeps running. Maybe I can slip out before this becomes awkward.
I dress in record time, struggling with the zipper on my dress. My hair looks wild when I see myself in the mirror near the wardrobe, all tangled curls and flushed cheeks. I look thoroughly ravaged.
I grab my purse, ease toward the bedroom door, and place my hand carefully on the handle. Then the bathroom door opens. I freeze.
Alexei steps into the bedroom with a white towel hanging low on his hips, water still glistening across his chest and shoulders. Damp dark hair brushes his forehead, and a thin trail of water slips down the hard line of his stomach.
Oh, my word.
My brain exits my body.
His eyes move from my face to my purse, then to my shoes dangling from one hand. One dark brow lifts.
“Are you sneaking out?”
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. I try again.
“I wasn’t sneakin’.”
His expression says he doesn’t believe me for one second.
“Maggie.”
“I was leavin’ quietly,” I correct, lifting my chin with what dignity I can manage while staring at a half-naked Russian man who looks like heaven spent entirely too much time showing off.
A slow smile spreads across his face, and my stomach does another flip.
“You were escaping.”
“I prefer strategic retreat.”
He lets out a rough laugh, and the sound wraps around me warm as sunlight through open curtains. He walks toward me slowly, and my pulse starts acting foolish all over again.
“You regret last night, kotyónok?” he asks.
“No.” The answer comes out so fast it embarrasses me a little, warmth rushing straight into my cheeks the second it leaves my mouth.
Alexei stops in front of me, close enough that I can smell the soap on his skin.
“Then why are you trying to run away from me before sunrise?”
I swallow audibly. “Because Ivy exists.”
The lines around his eyes ease a fraction, and the change is subtle enough that I probably would have missed it if I wasn’t staring at him so hard already.
“She’s asleep,” he says.
I tighten my hand around the bedroom door handle, glancing once toward the hallway before looking back at him. “You said she wakes up early.”
“She does.”
He steps further into the room, the white towel hanging unreasonably low on his hips. My heart is pounding. I drag my eyes back to his face.
“And I don’t want her seein’ me sneakin’ out of your bedroom.”
A small smirk appears on his lips as he comes closer, which somehow makes it worse. “You keep using that word.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” I press my free hand against my forehead before pointing at him. “You cannot stand there lookin’ like that and act confused about what I mean.”
His expression eases into quiet amusement, and I hate how attractive that is. Actually, no. I hate that I like being the reason for it.
I glance toward the door again, tightening my grip on the handle before I do anything foolish, like walk back toward him instead of out of this room. “This whole situation feels like one of those movies where the woman climbs out the window before the kids wake up.”
One corner of his mouth lifts higher. “You think I would put you out a window?”
A laugh slips out of me before I can stop it. “No, but I think you’d probably hold the ladder for me.”
His smile deepens just enough to make my heart race.
“I’ll have Viktor drive you home,” he says.
Relief rushes through me so fast my shoulders loosen for the first time in the last five minutes. “Thank you.”
“But only on one condition.”
There it is. My stomach drops as he steps closer again. This is the part where he says last night can’t happen again. Or that Ivy can’t get attached. Or that I was a mistake.
I straighten slowly, trying not to let any disappointment show on my face, even though my chest already aches.
“Okay,” I say carefully.
His eyes roam over me slowly, making a tingling sensation zip down my spine.
“Take the dress off.”
I blink once. “What?”
His eyes hold mine. “You heard me.”
The breath leaves my lungs all at once. My entire body lights up with nervous heat.
“That,” I manage weakly, “was not the condition I expected.”
“You say that like you object to it.”
I should probably say no. I should absolutely say no. Instead, my fingers tighten around my purse strap while my heart beats itself into chaos. I wet my lips once, buying myself half a second that doesn’t help nearly enough.
“That depends. Are you always this bossy, or am I gettin’ special treatment?”
Alexei reaches for the bag and gently slides it from my grasp before setting it on the nearby chair. Then his hand comes to my waist, holding me there like he already knows I’m staying.
“You’re thinking too much again,” he murmurs.
“I’m from Savannah. Thinking dramatically is part of the culture.”
His thumb brushes lightly against my side. “And running away?”
“That too.”
He laughs softly.
The sound relaxes me, easing away another bit of tension I didn’t know I had.
He lowers his head until his forehead rests lightly against mine. “You don’t have to run from me, Maggie.”
The rough gentleness in his voice surprises me, and my breath stutters.
Men like Alexei aren’t supposed to sound gentle enough to undo a woman from the inside out.
My chest tightens. That tenderness feels even more treacherous than the attraction.
The chemistry is already intense, but the tenderness underneath it leaves me completely off balance. I slowly look up at him.
“Alexei…”
His hand slides along my waist, his fingertips grazing the zipper of my dress.
“Tell me to stop.”
I should. Instead, I whisper, “You already know I’m not gonna do that.”
His mouth curves against mine before he kisses me slowly, deep enough to scatter every coherent thought in my head. By the time he backs me toward the bed, I’m kissing him right back with absolutely no dignity left whatsoever.
Morning sunlight slips through the curtains as his hands move over me. The room feels warm, hazy, and far too intimate for someone I barely know, which would probably concern me more if I weren’t currently melting beneath his mouth.
“Maggie,” he murmurs against my skin, and the sound of my name in his accent does deeply irresponsible things to me.
I laugh against his lips when he kisses the corner of my mouth again.
“What?” he asks quietly.
“You’re gonna ruin me for every man in Georgia.”
His gaze darkens. “Just Georgia?”
Mercy.
He says just two words, and I forget everything else.
The room fades into heat, tangled sheets, and the slow touch of his hand.
And after, when I’m curled against his chest trying to remember basic motor function, Alexei brushes his fingers through my hair while my heartbeat gradually returns to normal.
I stare at the ceiling. “Well,” I murmur. “That escalated quickly.”
His chest moves beneath my cheek with amusement. “Yes.”
“That was your condition?”
“It seemed fair.”
I snort softly. “Russian men are unbelievable.”
“Yet you continue spending time with one.”
He has a point.
By the time Viktor stops the car in front of my apartment, my nerves are a mess.
I pause, looking up at the brick building with its lit windows and narrow balconies.
Mrs. Carlisle’s plants on the second floor need watering again.
Someone left a bicycle tipped over by the entrance.
The old security light above the front doors keeps blinking on and off like it’s fighting for its life. Everything looks completely normal.
Meanwhile, I just spent the night in a mansion with a Russian billionaire whose voice does sinful things to my nervous system. Honestly, I’m in trouble.
Viktor climbs out before I can reach for the door handle. He opens my door with the same serious expression he’s worn the entire drive.
“Thank you,” I tell him as I step onto the sidewalk.
“You’re welcome, Miss Hayes.”
I sling my purse over my shoulder. “You can tell Alexei I made it home alive. No alligator attacks or tragic encounters with Savannah drivers.”
One side of Viktor’s mouth twitches. That tiny reaction nearly knocks a laugh out of me.
My phone starts ringing before I reach the elevator.
Jules.
Of course, it’s Jules.
I answer with a sigh. “Mornin’.”