Chapter 39
MELANI
For long minutes, the room spins around me like one long, drugging carousel ride, my chest heaving with ragged breaths, every nerve ending lit up and oversensitive and barely my own.
Vanya is crouched over me, his fingers spreading my wetness on my belly. When I finally focus enough to look down at what he’s doing, I inhale sharply.
He’s written a single word. Mine.
My throat seizes around whatever sound was trying to escape, the phantom sensation of his cock still scraping the back of it.
He used my own release to write it, something that will wash away the moment I step into the shower.
But it doesn’t feel temporary. It feels like he’s carved it into me.
Into my skin, my heart, my brain, my soul.
None of them belongs to me anymore. They’re his.
He straightens, lifts me without preamble, and carries me to the shower. There, he leisurely washes my body clean, and I do the same for him, both of us quiet. But it’s a comfortable silence.
Back in the bedroom, we dress in the same quiet. Only when we’re finished does he cross to me and take my chin between his fingers, tipping my face up to his. “Good morning.” he presses a quick, hard kiss to my lips.
“Hi,” I breathe out.
His lips twitch as if he might smile, but the expression disappears almost as soon as it appears. “I hear you tricked my men into giving you a tour of the building yesterday. And you had breakfast at Tavaria.”
My heart stops. I search his face, but if he was mad last night when he found out, none of it shows now. “I told you I no longer want to be locked up.”
“And I said I would consider it.” A pause. “You stole my elevator card?”
“Stole is a stretch.” I give him a sheepish smile. “It was sitting right there on your desk. I just… took it.”
“You can’t do that again, Melani. I already punished Boris last night, and he knows better now, but you have to stop.”
He punished Boris? My pulse quickens, a hollow pit opening in my stomach as I see my escape plan dissipating before my eyes.
“I’m not going to remain your docile prisoner, Vanya,” I say firmly.
“Yes, I left this suite yesterday, but I stayed inside the building. I didn’t run. That should count for something.”
“Be that as it may—”
“I mean it, Ivan.” I let a fraction of my desperation show. “Either grant me free access to the building and I’ll remain patient with you for now, or keep me locked in this suite and prepare to see me try to hurt myself in different ways.”
He flinches back like I just slapped him. “What?”
I might have gone a bit too far with that, but I rally on.
I had hoped tricking his men would impress him.
That staying inside the building, even after tasting a sliver of freedom, would make him trust me more.
But what if that backfired? I need that freedom.
I need to be able to go to that meeting.
I need to know, once and for all, if my brother was taken as part of this scheme against the Petrovs or if he left on his own.
“The bathtub is big enough. Thirty minutes underwater and I’d lose consciousness. A little longer than that and, well…” I trail off with a shrug.
The look on his face is unlike anything I’ve seen on him before. “Are you fucking threatening me right now?”
My lips tilt up sadly. “How is it a threat to you? It’s a threat to me.”
“I swear to fucking God, Melani—”
“No, Ivan. I’m done. You hear me? Done!” Tears sting as I whirl away from him, but he grabs my arm with a low curse.
“I know you want freedom, and I am considering it. I will grant it. I just need more time,” he says tightly. “A few days.”
A few days. Enough time for him to execute whatever plans he has at that meeting. I tilt my chin up. “I don’t have a few days. I’m not asking to go to Central Park or the Hudson River or anywhere equally ridiculous. I just want free rein of this building. Is that really too much to ask?”
His jaw clenches, his fingers twitching around my arm. Then: “Fine,” he says at last, releasing me. “But my men will be watching you at all times.”
My heart stops as I stare up at him. Is he—? He sighs, dragging a hand over his face. “You can leave the suite. But stay inside the building. And don’t make me regret it or—”
I squeal and launch myself at him before he can finish his words, and he staggers back with a grunt, his arms wrapping around my waist.
“Thank you.” I press my face into his chest, a bittersweet warmth settling low in my belly.
I’m close. So close to my escape. Close to the end of this.
When I walk out of the bedroom to the living area a while later, I see Boris and feel sick. The marks are unmistakable—livid red, in the shape of fingers.
“I’m so sorry,” the guilt tightening my chest so much I have to gasp.
He blinks, clearly not prepared for this, and his eyes go a little wide when he clocks the gloss building in mine. “It’s fine, miss.”
“It’s not.” He blurs momentarily as tears sting my eyes. “It was my fault. I put you in an impossible position, and you shouldn’t have—"
“It’s–it’s really fine. Please don’t—” he repeats, sounding almost panicked.
But nothing can ease my guilt and the pain in my heart.
Because I know this isn’t the end of it.
When I slip out this weekend, he’ll be punished again.
The thought makes my stomach churn. Maybe I could leave Vanya a note—ask him not to punish any of his men for it.
Tell him that it’s not their fault, just something inevitable.
“Really, miss, you don’t need to cry.” He suddenly looks like he would rather be anywhere else.
I blink rapidly until the tears subside and apologize again.
Then I turn just in time to see Vanya stepping out of the room.
I glare at him, but he only raises a brow, like he doesn’t understand the problem.
“You need to apologize to Boris.”
“There’s no need for that,” Boris protests behind me, his voice strained with fear.
But I’m already marching towards Vanya, jabbing my finger into his chest. “How could you choke him?”
“I’ve choked you,” he replies dryly, the corner of his mouth lifting in a faint smirk.
I smack his chest. “This is not the time to joke.”
He looks past me at Boris. “Melani is granted permission to go anywhere in the building.” Then he looks at his red throat. “You should get that checked.”
It’s not an apology. It’s Vanya, which means it’s about as close as Boris is ever going to get. But judging by the way the bodyguard visibly relaxes, it’s clearly more than enough.
The next days drag by, even though my newly granted freedom means I hardly spend any time inside the suite.
But I can’t quite summon the energy to pretend I’m happy when I’m constantly worrying about what will happen this weekend.
My guards and I explore nearly every corner of the building.
I do a ridiculous amount of shopping to distract myself—clothes, shoes, bags, even small gifts for the men—everything automatically added to Vanya’s tab.
It helps… for a while. But returning to the suite always reminds me how little time I have left here.
Vanya spends more and more time away from the suite, coordinating with his brothers.
I’m usually asleep when he returns and still sleeping when he’s gone again in the morning.
And I hate that, hate that I can’t spend our last days together.
Still, he never forgets to leave notes for me.
He seems to be getting the hang of it now—maybe even enjoying it.
I keep every single one tucked inside a wallet I bought during one of my shopping sprees.
I probably shouldn’t, but I fully intend to take them with me when I go.
Time crawls, yet somehow slips through my fingers, and before I know it, I’m waking up to Saturday morning. The day of the meeting. It starts at 7 PM, but I plan to be at the warehouse by 5 PM, early enough to find the best place to hide and wait.
Yesterday, I took Mamma to Tavaria and told her my plans there since Vanya has all the suites bugged—I wasn’t having that conversation anywhere he might hear it.
She was skeptical about it and pointed out that he would probably see me at the warehouse.
It’s a worry I’ve been pushing back, but as I lie in his bed and blink up at the ceiling, I finally let it surface.
She’s right. I have no idea what his plans are, but I know he’s going.
And if he’s in that warehouse, there’s every chance he’ll spot me.
But that can’t be helped. I had wished, more than once this week, that we could just do this together.
It would be so much easier than going behind his back.
But I don’t dare bring it up again this close to the meeting.
The risks are too high. Besides, he already gave me his answer. A resounding no.
With a heavy heart, I roll out of bed, my eyes catching on the nightstand I’ve claimed as mine.
A single rose lies there, next to a note:
We haven’t had time for ourselves these past few days. I plan to rectify that as soon as all this is over.
What do you think about a trip to Crete?
You in a bikini with the backdrop of deep blue sea and soaring mountains sounds like heaven right now ;)
—V
I read the note again and again until the letters start to blur.
Eventually, I find myself tracing my finger over his handwriting.
This is my last morning here, which means this is his last note to me.
I’m not sure where Crete is, but at the moment, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than there with him.
What if I just stay put today like he asked?
No. That’s not an option. Luciano deserves better.
He deserves a sister who cares enough to shove her selfishness aside.
I need to get to the bottom of his disappearance before I can dream of settling down.
Sure, I could ask Vanya to investigate. With his resources, he might uncover things I never could.
But what if he doesn’t want to? What do I even mean to him?
I’m just a convenient good lay… aren’t I?
My chest tightens painfully, my breathing turning shallow as my throat constricts. I blink rapidly, trying to hold the tears back, but a few still slip down my cheeks. “What’s this?” I mutter under my breath, pushing myself to my feet and angrily wiping my face.
I knew what this was from the beginning. I seduced him, knowing it would be nothing more than sex. I’m the one who forgot the rules and started falling for him. Maybe I deserve the pain. For wanting what I’ve always known I can’t have.
Ignoring the ache in my chest, I carefully fold the note and tuck it into my wallet along with the others. Then I make my way to the bathroom to get ready.
It’s almost showtime.