Chapter 8
Max
Darkness shrouds the room as the door clicks shut behind me. Not even the ambient glow from appliances cuts through the inky black.
Nika killed all the lights.
Smart.
Hunching down, I ease my pack from my shoulder and onto the floor by the wall. I can surmise that this penthouse suite features a sitting area, dining area, and a kitchen.
Creeping forward, I trip over a soft, curled object.
Fuck.
The air pressure changes as a low, fast-moving shadow arcs toward my ribs.
I twist in the nick of time. The blade slices my shirt, parting fabric instead of flesh.
I manage to seize her wrist, and we collide, our bodies slamming together with a force that jars my bones.
She’s surprisingly solid, all coiled muscle and momentum.
My eyes fight to adjust to the minuscule sliver of light seeping in from under the door. I try to use her speed against her, but Nika’s two paces ahead.
Her free hand aims a palm strike at my jaw.
Pain jolts up my arm and shoulder as I block with my forearm and shove her back.
She releases a muffled grunt as she catches herself on furniture—the couch, maybe—and rebounds. Nika flies at me again, her pale arms barely visible through the gloom.
This time, I’m ready.
I meet her head-on, snag her knife hand, and drive forward. We crash into furniture, and I get tangled up in some hard object that digs into my shins.
Wood splinters in a sharp crack, and glass crunches under my boots.
I clutch her wrist, forcing the knife away and pushing her arm up and back.
As she dodges the mess, her knee comes fast and vicious for my groin.
I rotate and take the painful blow on my thigh instead. Damn. If she’d landed that hit as intended, she might have gelded me.
“Watch where you’re aiming, Nika,” I huff out. “We can’t have any fun if you break the merchandise.”
She scoffs, her muscles tensing under my grip. “Don’t be a pig.”
Her arm twists, and I pivot to maintain my grasp. I can’t release her. The moment I do, she’ll disappear into the dark again, or that blade will find me.
The faint scent of roses encompasses me.
Her breathy pants as she jerks to free herself tells me that she enjoys this.
She’s as aroused as I am.
Using my grip on her wrist as an anchor point, she plants her foot and throws her weight backward.
The leverage breaks my hold.
Her foot lifts up and scrapes my nose as I stumble, off-balance. Nika spins, bringing the knife around in a backhand slash targeting my throat. Instinctively, I hit the floor.
The blade passes overhead, close enough that I sense the displacement of air. Surging upward, I drive my shoulder into her midsection.
She grunts as we both hit the carpet together.
I use my weight in an attempt to pin her and control the knife, but with her legs together, she manages to dig her heels into the thick carpet and wrestle the lower half of her body out from under me.
I grit my teeth as she squirms. “Could you stay still for a fucking second?”
“And let you kill me?” She laughs, sharp and jagged like a bird call. “Not likely.”
Twisting again, she shoves her heel into my hip. I fly back and catch the corner of a dining table with my lower back. White-hot pain explodes up my spine.
That’ll leave a mark.
As she charges again, I steady myself.
This woman’s relentless.
Metal glints in the shadows. I grab the nearest thing—a wing chair, I think—and swing. The thinly padded wooden frame connects with her arm. She hisses and drops the knife.
Finally, I’ve gained the advantage. She’s no match for me weaponless.
I could kill her now and tell Roman it was self-defense. Sure, he’d be livid if I disobeyed orders and killed his daughter, but that’s a price I’m almost willing to pay. Snapping her neck would be so easy—
She wrenches the chair from my hands with surreal strength and chucks it at me.
It crashes beside me, shattering a floor lamp. More broken glass and unseen tripping hazards pile on the expensive carpet.
My laugh sounds like a wheeze. “Missed me.”
“I wasn’t aiming for you, prick.”
Then she’s on me again. No knife, just body against body, flesh hitting flesh in pure, unadulterated chaos as we trade blows.
I clip her jaw. She nails me in the side with her elbow, and two of my ribs shriek in pain.
She stumbles back, her hand rising to her face. Maybe I hit her harder than I thought.
Like an idiot, I press forward. The moment I’m close, she drops and sweeps my legs. I’m airborne for half a second before I crash into the overturned coffee table.
I groan as my head smacks the splintered remains.
Before I can recover, Nika’s straddling me. Her weight pins my chest as she reaches over my head.
Even in the dark, the neckline of her dress casts a vivid shape over those two perfect—
The knife. Nika’s going for the knife, dumbass. You’re staring at her tits while she’s about to slit your throat.
Fuck it.
I bite down on her left breast.
She has the audacity to laugh, twisting away from my teeth. “That was a dick move. Too bad I like a little pain.”
If I don’t get my shit together, I’m going to die.
I buck, thrusting my hips up with all my strength and pitching her onto the floor.
I follow her down, reversing our positions.
From my new perch on top, I wrap my hand around her throat and apply light pressure to show her how easily I could end this.
She glares at me, her lips parted and her cheeks flushed as she pants. Strands of damp white hair cling to her face.
“That all you got?” The challenge comes out breathless but defiant. Stretching her neck, she closes the distance between us. Daring me to do more.
Probably a distraction technique to make me think with my dick again, so she can finish me off.
And I don’t mean in a happy ending way.
My patience snaps.
With one hand still on her throat and the other on her right bicep, I haul her up and slam her against the nearest wall.
The impact rattles the framed paintings and drives the air from her lungs.
Not giving her time to recover, I press my body against hers and use my superior weight to trap her. I wedge my thigh between hers, spreading them wider, locking her into a position she can’t easily break.
She stills, and in the semidarkness, we suck in ragged gulps of air.
Her eyes—dark, bottomless, and brimming with desire—find mine in the dim light.
Raw, undeniable, and completely mutual.
Nika’s dress rode up during our scuffle, the fabric now bunched and twisted. Her legs envelop mine, riding my quads. My thigh presses more firmly between hers, and the heat of her groin warms my blood.
Electricity buzzes in the air between us. Every point of contact sends signals my body interprets as need. I shouldn’t want this traitorous woman, but I do.
I tighten my hand on her throat.
She doesn’t flinch when I lean in. If I moved an inch, our lips would touch.
Loud knocking shatters the moment.
“Hotel security!” an authoritative male voice calls. “Everything okay in there?”
My eyes lock on Nika’s. Neither of us breathes.
The knock comes again. “Security. We’ve had a noise complaint.”
Shit.
My hand is still on her throat, her body pinned against the wall.
Nika’s lips curve into the ghost of a smile that suggests she’s gained some advantage I haven’t calculated yet.
She opens her mouth.
“Not. A. Fucking. Word.” My voice, barely a whisper, promises lethal consequences if she disobeys.
Her smile widens as she whispers back, her breath hot against my face. “If I don’t use words, they’ll barge in.”
Dammit, she’s right.
After mentally running through my options, I release her throat and stagger away. We’re both trapped in a temporary truce until the interlopers leave.
She slides down my leg and bites my lip, nearly undoing me.
Skirting past me, Nika smooths her hair back and adjusts the cocktail dress.
She pivots and takes in my disheveled suit, the aggressive stance, and the way I’m breathing hard and radiating barely controlled violence. “Try to look…less dangerous.”
I gesture around the suite at the destroyed furniture, the shattered lamp, and the overturned table. We can’t possibly hope to hide this disaster. She shrugs and arches an eyebrow.
What the hell does she expect?
I grab my shirt in both hands and rip it open. Buttons scatter, one pinging off the wall. I run my hands through my hair, mussing it even more. Making myself appear less like a killer and more like…
Like a guy who’s done something else that would explain the noise.
Nika tips her head to the side and retwists her dress. She pulls the door open and half-hides behind it.
Two thirtysomething male security guards stand in the hallway, wearing hotel blazers and expressions that say they’ve seen everything.
The taller one’s eyes go immediately to Nika, noting the dress, the flushed cheeks, and the slightly rumpled hair. He raises a bushy brow.
“So sorry. I was… We were…” Nika glances at me, then back to the guards. “A bit too rambunctious. That’s why I got the penthouse, so no one would hear us through the walls. My fiancé and I are long-distance. It’s…been a long time. You understand.”
Fiancé? She’s quick-witted, I’ll give her that.
I take a few steps sideways, keeping myself barely visible and exuding the image of a man halfway to satisfied, with my hands in my pockets and my shoulders relaxed.
The employees exchange a knowing glance before peering past her, trying to glimpse into the darkened suite. Checking for signs of a more serious situation.
Nika glances over her shoulder again, her head silhouetted against the bright hall light. “Mick, sweetheart, tell them you’re not trying to kill me.”
Mick. Sweetheart.
She’s got a good memory.
I drift closer so they can get a better view of my tousled hair, partially undressed state, and thoroughly debauched appearance.
“Kill her?” I huff out a laugh and rake a hand through my hair. “Never. Sorry about that. We got a little carried away.”
The shorter guard’s face relaxes, his mustache twitching with his smile. “Right. Well. Try to keep the noise down. We do have other guests. The people downstairs complained.”
“Absolutely.” Nika presses a hand to her cheek like she’s embarrassed. “I’m so sorry. We’ll try to be quiet.”
“Enjoy your evening.” Mustache nods and heads down the hall with his colleague.
Nika closes the door and flicks on the light.
I stride toward her, ready to pin her again and conclude what we started before the untimely interruption. “Come here, sweetheart. Let’s finish this.”
Her hand finds the slit in her dress and slides the fabric aside, revealing the long line of her stocking-clad thigh and a black lace garter. What’s she trying to do, distract me to death?
“Max.” She shakes her head and sighs. “You have to know by now that nothing is that simple.”
I lift my hands to grab her as she lunges at me. She drops into a crouch and jabs an object into my leg. Sharp pain prickles my left thigh, then morphs into a tingle.
Realization hits at the same moment the drug does. She played me.
Leaden weight floods through my system, my knees buckling first. I try to catch myself, to stay upright, but my body refuses to obey.
Instead, I crumple.
The impact vibrates through me, distant and muffled, like it’s happening to someone else. My vision blurs at the edges.
Her fingers brush my cheek in a gentle caress that feels like possession, like ownership. The final insult after total defeat.
Then the darkness claims me, and I’m completely at her mercy.