Chapter 23
MELANI
How the hell is it possible to feel this horny?
I had one of the best orgasms I’ve ever given myself in the shower last night, yet I still wake up with hard nipples and wetness clinging to my thighs.
I’m so freaking needy.
I roll over in bed and bury my face into the pillow with a groan.
But even that simple movement drags my sensitive nipples against the sheets and sends a sharp pulse straight to my clit.
My blood hums sluggishly in my veins. My thighs burn with heat, my clit aches, my breasts feel all tender, and my lower abdomen clenches tight, as if in readiness for something. Or more accurately, for someone.
Vanya.
It’s like he flipped a switch on in me last night with his little game and forgot to turn it off—and now I can’t turn it off either. My hand slips between my body and the mattress, my fingers finding my tight nipple. A moan escapes as I squeeze it. Damn it.
I let go and force myself out of bed before I do something stupid again. I need to get my head straight, not make it worse.
Every step to the bathroom reminds me how worked up I still am. I sit on the toilet and thoroughly clean off the wetness clinging to my thighs and pussy. Then I brush my teeth and hop into the coldest shower I can stand, gasping as the icy spray hits my overheated skin.
For a moment, I consider playing with the showerhead again—maybe getting myself off this morning will help reset whatever’s happening to my body.
But I decide against it. I’d hate for Boris to walk in with my breakfast while I’m screaming his boss’s name.
The mortifying thought keeps me moving, and I finish my shower quickly, then dress in record time.
My body is still humming afterwards, restless and charged, and I wonder if I might be ovulating.
That has to be it, because what the hell?
But then again, ovulation has never felt this intense before—ever.
No. It’s Vanya and his cursed touch. He hasn’t even fucked me yet, and I’m already like this.
I can’t imagine what will happen when he does.
I’ll be utterly screwed, in every sense.
Boris arrives with my breakfast right on schedule. He doesn’t look at me as he enters, just places the tray on the dining table and walks out without a word.
I wait for the door to close behind him before sitting down to eat. At this point, I’m definitely going to gain some weight before Vanya ever decides to let me go. All I do is sleep and eat—three square meals at that. I can’t remember the last time I had that.
When I finish my meal, I push back my chair and begin pacing the room. So my plan to find information about Luciano flopped spectacularly. The same goes for finding my phone. What’s my next move?
The door opens again, and I freeze mid-pace as Boris returns to collect the empty tray. He checks that the utensils are there, then leaves. A moment later, he comes back with two men behind him. This time, I don’t miss the bulges at their waists. Guns.
“Come.” Boris beckons me forward, and I swallow, wiping my suddenly sweaty palms down my pants as I hesitantly follow them.
What now?
I expect them to take me to one of the other rooms in the suite—maybe Vanya’s office. But to my surprise, they lead me straight to the front door. My heart leaps into my throat. Am I being… released?
A strange lump of disappointment forms, and I try to swallow it down.
Did Vanya finally realize I’m not a threat to him? This is a good thing. It is. Boris closes the suite door behind us, but instead of heading for the elevator, we walk down the hallway to another hotel suite.
My stomach clenches with heat as I remember the keycard in Vanya’s nightstand.
For when he gets bored. Is he bored right now?
And wants me? Is he planning to continue from where we stopped last night?
My blood rushes in my ears, muffling the electronic beep as one of the men taps a keycard against the panel.
Boris opens the door, and after only a brief hesitation, I step inside.
The door shuts behind me, none of them entering themselves, and anticipation crackles through my veins.
Is Vanya waiting for me somewhere in here?
I swallow nervously and move deeper into the suite, trying to figure out how I’ll handle this interaction with him. What I’ll say, how I’ll play it—
My thoughts come to a screeching halt when I see the person sitting on one of the sofas in the living room.
“Mamma?”
She turns to face me, and her eyes go wide. “Melani!” She jumps to her feet and—to my surprise—runs towards me, wrapping her arms around me in a fierce embrace. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you? What happened?” The questions tumble out in rapid succession as she pulls back to search my face.
My lower lip trembles, and I bite down on it, blinking away the sudden sting in my eyes. Mamma hasn’t exactly been cold since we arrived in New York, but she’s kept her emotions tightly under wraps. This open display of affection catches me completely off guard.
“I’m–I’m fine,” I whisper. “What about you?” I grab her arm, scanning her for injuries.
“I’m fine,” she assures me, then glares towards the hotel door. “Someone suddenly dropped a black sack over my face and dragged me off the streets. In broad daylight!"
My eyes widen because I know who’s behind it. Vanya. I’ll have your mother brought here if you’re truly worried about her. I lick my lips, unsure how to tell her I’m the reason she was—what? Kidnapped? Taken off the streets against her will?
“Is this what became of your investigation?” she asks, disappointment heavy in her voice.
“I told you it was a bad idea, didn’t I?
Now look at us, locked up in one of Ivan Petrov’s hotel rooms.” She says Vanya’s name with such contempt that my hackles rise, a sharp wave of defensiveness surging through me.
A dozen words crowd my throat, ready to defend him, but I swallow them. She wouldn’t take them well.
“My investigation wasn’t for nothing." My voice is a little stilted because of how angry I am at her. How dare she talk about him that way? Huh? Where the hell did that thought come from? It’s irrational. Just over two weeks ago, I was talking about him the same way.
Frowning, I push the feeling aside. No, I’m not defensive of Vanya. He doesn’t need me to be.
“Oh, really? Look around you, Melani. Where are we?” Her contempt snaps the fragile lid I’m holding over my temper.
“It looks to me like we’re in one of the safest places we could be,” I shoot back.
“What?” she asks incredulously.
“This is the one place Emilio Sciarra would never think to look for us, Mamma. The safest place we could hide from him—don’t you see that?” Urgency creeps into my voice as I try to make her understand.
Her lips part as I talk, and she stares at me like I’m a stranger. “How is this the safest place when it’s where your brother got—got—” Her voice breaks, the words refusing to come.
My throat tightens, but I raise my chin stubbornly. “Luciano is fine. I know he is. I would feel it if he wasn’t.” I would. He’s safe. He’s alright. He has to be.
“And what? The safest place?” Mamma presses on as if she didn’t hear me at all. “Don’t tell me you’re falling for this illusion of luxury and letting Ivan Petrov get into your head. He killed your brother.”
“No, I’m not.” But a flicker of doubt whispers in my head. Have I spent too much time locked up in here? Am I letting this attraction between Vanya and me cloud my judgment? No, no, no. I can’t afford to doubt myself.
“Luciano is not dead,” I say fiercely. “And Vanya has nothing to do with—”
“Vanya?” Mamma’s face twists like she just got a whiff of rotten milk. “We’re calling him nicknames now? Oh my God, Melani—you’re sleeping with him.”
I blanch. “No, I’m not.”
“You’re not—” Now she blanches too. “No, it’s worse than I feared. You’re falling for him.”
“Never!” I snap—too quickly. Mamma shakes her head slowly. “I’m not,” I repeat firmly. “I’ve had time to assess the situation, and I know without a shadow of doubt that Vany–Ivan is not involved in Luciano’s disappearance.”
She keeps shaking her head. “I shouldn’t have let you go ahead with that foolhardy plan. Now look at you—defending a criminal, a mafioso. The very thing that got us chased out of our country, our home. Sugnu assai delusa ‘i tia.” I’m very disappointed in you.
The words pierce my heart, my eyes stinging as I see the mixture of disappointment and hurt etched across her face.
“You’re wrong about one thing. Vanya isn’t the reason we had to leave Pietrarossa.
We had to leave because your husband stole the clan's money. We’re in this situation because of Papa. ”
“And I would have thought you’d learn from my mistake and not get involved with another man in this world.”
“I’m not involved with him.” But my argument sounds weak even to my own ears. Mamma turns her back to me, and a chill spreads through my body.
I’m not involved with Vanya. We just—we’re just attracted to each other, that’s all. I haven’t even gone ahead with my plan to seduce him and make him fall in love with me yet!
Without another word, I spin around and walk towards the hotel door. I yank on the handle, but it’s locked from the outside, so I knock rapidly.
“No matter what you tell yourself, remember this moment,” Mamma’s voice carries across the room, quiet but cutting. “We were both locked into this room. We’re both prisoners. You have no power here, Melani. You only know what Ivan Petrov wants you to know. You only see what he wants you to see.”
The door opens, and I glance up. It’s just Boris—no other guards, no weapons visible on him. They must have realized I’m not trying to run. Because I never tried. Not even once.
“Ready to go?” Boris’s question makes me realize I’m frozen at the threshold. I toss one last glance at Mamma’s rigid back and step out.
Did I let Vanya get into my head? The question gnaws at me as we walk.
Why didn’t I ever put up a fight? Sure, I had my reasons, but they all seem flimsy now.
Vanya and his men are relaxed around me because I never made a single attempt to escape.
They must think I'm stupid. Or na?ve. Just then, the elevator opens, and a hotel staff member emerges, pushing a trolley stacked with cleaning supplies.
This is my chance. I don't give myself time to second-guess the impulse. I bolt for the elevator, slipping inside just before the doors slide shut. My heart pounds triumphantly, but as I turn to the control panel, my stomach drops. There’s nothing.
No buttons. That’s when I remember—it’s a private elevator. I need an access card to make it move.
After a couple of long, humiliating seconds, the doors slide open again. Boris is standing on the other side, glowering at me with an expression that clearly says Really? Behind him, the two men from earlier and the hotel staff all watch me with varying degrees of amusement and pity.
I force a smile I don’t feel. “Fancy elevator you’ve got here.” Then I step out with as much dignity as I can muster.
Boris clamps a hand around my upper arm and marches me back to Vanya’s suite. He steers me to my room, shoves me inside, and locks the door behind me.
Well, shit.
I take a slow breath and glance around the familiar room.
It’s time to stop playing around. I need to remember why I’m here in the first place.
I was looking for information on Luciano.
And I can still get it. I just have to focus—either stick to my original plan to seduce the information out of Vanya, or find another way to escape.
I got too relaxed. Too involved. I let my emotions take over. Let my attraction to Vanya distract me.
That won’t happen again.