Chapter 8
ANDREI
The garage door rolls shut behind us with a low, mechanical hum, sealing out the city in one smooth motion. We made it safely, and that’s the most important thing. Anderson confirms via text that we weren’t followed, and he’s got men stationed around the block to ensure our safety.
I gesture for Alina to follow me, and she does without comment, her movements slow and slightly uncoordinated.
The adrenaline that kept her upright in the car is gone now, leaving exhaustion in its wake.
She looks smaller in the borrowed sweatsuit, swallowed by fabric that doesn’t belong to her, her shoulders slumped like she’s finally run out of strength to pretend she’s fine.
The little garage apartment we keep in Queens for moments like this is tiny and bare. It has one small bedroom, a bathroom, and an open-concept kitchen and living room.
It’s the perfect place to hide from enemies who’ll look for me at my penthouse or the Ritz Carlton.
“This is it,” I say, my voice low in the quiet space.
She steps inside and pauses, taking it in. The main room is smaller than the hotel’s bathroom. It has a couch against one wall, with a narrow coffee table sitting in front of it. It’s old and worn, probably purchased at a thrift store. Nicolai handled all the details.
I move automatically, switching on the lights as I go.
“Bathroom’s there,” I say, pointing down the short hallway. “Bedroom’s at the end. The door locks from the inside.”
She nods, her eyes tracking where I indicate, though I’m not sure how much of it is actually sinking in.
“There’s drinks in the fridge,” I add. “And some food. Just basics, sandwich meat and stuff. Nothing fancy.”
“That’s okay,” she murmurs. “I don’t think I could eat if I tried.”
I don’t respond to that. I keep moving, checking windows, testing locks, making sure everything is exactly as it should be. This place was swept over before we arrived, and I know there are at least a dozen men outside guarding us, but old habits die hard.
Alina drifts toward the couch and sits down heavily, like her legs simply give out beneath her. She pulls the blanket around herself, curling in on her side almost immediately.
“You should take the bed,” I say. “I don’t mind sleeping on the couch.”
She glances up at me, eyes glassy with exhaustion. “I don’t want to be in the way.”
“You’re not,” I reply evenly.
She nods, accepting that without argument.
“I’m just too tired to move,” she finally says in a quiet, fading voice. “I’ll just rest my eyes here for a minute.”
She’s barely finished her sentence when her eyes close and her body slumps against the arm of the couch. I can’t imagine how exhausted she must be after everything that’s happened to her tonight.
Without another choice, I leave her where she is and step into the bedroom, setting my jacket down carefully on the chair. I slowly unbutton my shirt and take it off, then my pants, hanging them carefully with practiced precision.
What the hell was I thinking in the car? I lost control of myself in a way I never have. Didn’t I send her away the first time tonight so that exact thing wouldn’t happen? I look at myself in the small mirror above the dresser and hate what I see.
Part of me feels like I took advantage of her, but another part feels like she took advantage of me. She manipulated me with her big, sad eyes and her quivering lip.
The memory presses in despite my efforts to shove it aside. Her lips were so soft underneath mine. I held the line as long as I could, but I eventually gave in to the moment, consuming her in the way I’d been fantasizing about all night.
It was careless and stupid.
I run a hand over my face slowly, jaw tightening. I don’t operate on impulse. I don’t touch women who are frightened, or angry, or unmoored. I don’t let emotion dictate action. Those rules exist because breaking them creates complications, and complications get people hurt.
So, why did I do it? What about her made me throw caution to the wind tonight? Was it truly just her vulnerability, or is it possible she’s playing me?
I step back into the main room and take a look back. She’s dead asleep now, her mouth slightly opened and her breathing deep.
I go into the bathroom and grab a clean, folded towel, before bringing it over to the couch and setting it down by her feet.
I stand there longer than necessary, watching her chest rise and fall, my thoughts finally slowing now that she’s safe and contained.
She definitely doesn’t look like a threat, at least not now.
She truly is just a scared young woman who was duped by one of my rivals.
What the hell was her father thinking setting her up with him?
I turn away and switch off the lights before pulling my phone from my pocket. I have at least a dozen updates waiting for me.
I go back into the bedroom and sit on the bed as I read my phone. The decoy vehicle worked. It was followed and shot at, but my men were able to get the driver out safely before they overtook it.
I run my hands through my hair and take a deep breath. Someone wanted me dead tonight, and they were confident enough to adapt quickly. How can I think of Alina as a threat when her disappearance from the party could have very well saved my life?
I type out instructions to Nicolai, brief and efficient. Lock down communication channels. Review who knew my itinerary. Start pulling footage from the hotel.
He immediately types back that it’s being taken care of. Not to worry about anything at all.
Only then do I allow myself to relax. The mattress creaks softly beneath my weight. I lean forward, forearms braced against my thighs, staring at the floor.
I shouldn’t have touched her. I shouldn’t have let myself get carried away by a moment. I lost control, and that cannot happen again.
I close my eyes and force my breathing to slow. I just need a few hours of sleep to clear my head. Tomorrow I can face every problem that’s waiting for me. Tomorrow I can decide what the long-term plan is for Alina. For now, I just need my body to relax.
The faint sound of movement pulls me back before I realize I’ve drifted. My eyes open instantly. The sound is so faint, it’s barely audible, just a soft scuff against the floor.
I’m on my feet before I consciously decide to move, the years of conditioning taking over. My hand goes to the side of the bed, fingers curling around the edge as I sit up, listening. My gun is in my holster on the chair. I can get to it in three seconds if I need to.
Then I hear her voice.
“Andrei?”
It’s barely more than a whisper.
I close my eyes briefly and exhale through my nose, the tension shifting but not leaving. I get up and step into the doorway where she lingers uncertainly.
She’s wrapped in the blanket, hair loose now, falling in soft waves around her shoulders. The sweats hang off her frame, sleeves pushed up over her hands. Her eyes are wide and unfocused, dark with exhaustion and something else that tightens low in my chest.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” she says quickly. “I just woke up, and I was too scared to go back to sleep.”
“Take the bed,” I say, keeping my voice low. “It’s much more comfortable, you’ll probably be able to sleep better.”
She nods, but doesn’t move.
“Would you stay with me?” she asks in a small, broken voice. “I don’t want to be alone.”
Her voice hitches on the last word, and that does it. I step forward before I can stop myself, closing the distance between us. I pull her into my arms, feeling just how small and fragile she is.
“Of course,” I say quietly. “I promised I’d keep you safe.”
She looks up at me, searching my face like she’s trying to anchor herself to something solid.
“Thank you,” she whispers, and my eyes are immediately drawn to that perfect mouth.
I should tell her I’ve changed my mind. I should tuck her into bed and the lock the door behind me so I can’t get to her even if I want to. I should go sleep on that old couch and leave her alone.
Instead, I feel her reach for me. Her fingers grab onto the fabric of my shirt and she pulls me in closer. In an instant, every rational and reasonable thought in my brain disappears. I cup her face in my hands, my thumbs brushing gently along her jaw.
I lean down and kiss her, feeling the tension in her body as she reaches up to kiss me back. There’s no restraint this time, no hesitation. We are both exhausted and crazed, and this is the only thing in the world that makes any sense.
Her mouth is so soft and delicate, her kisses too light for me. I realize it’s the angle, and grab her ass, pulling her up so we’re at the same level. Her legs instinctively wrap around my hips and the blanket falls into a puddle on the ground.
I carry her to the bed, kicking the door shut behind me. She lets out a small sigh as I gently lay her down, never once breaking the kiss.
I try to pull away, just for a second, just to get a breath, but her fingers have a vise grip against my neck. She doesn’t want me to leave.
My erection is already so evident and I feel her grind against it.
“Alina,” I murmur. “You don’t have to do this.”
She shakes her head, her breath warm against my mouth. “I need to,” she gasps. “I need you.”
Who am I to deny her what she needs? Our hands become a tangle as we reach for each other’s clothes, discarding piece after piece of fabric until there’s nothing left between us.
It’s only as I’m slipping into her, burying myself into her delicious depths, that I realize I don’t have protection. I’m too far gone for that.
She’s so hot and tight around me, but so willing to take me in. I’m not small by any stretch of the imagination, but we somehow manage to find a rhythm and an angle that work. Her breathing becomes shallow and heady as I thrust into her, losing what little is left of my sanity with every movement.
I can’t see her well in the dark, but I can feel her.
I reach out to cup her breasts, and they feel perky and smooth underneath my hands.
She’s perfect. I wish I could see her. I wish I could fuck her with the lights on and drink in every inch of her skin.
Yet even as I’m coming closer to my release and feeling her pussy tighten around me, I know we can’t do this again.
This is a mistake. A perfect, mind-blowingly good mistake. She fits around my body like she was made for me, and she moans with such wild abandon that I know she feels the same. And it can never, ever happen again.
So, I let myself enjoy it. I let myself feel every nerve ending.
I let myself kiss her without any regard for control.
I taste and touch and fuck, with no concern for what’s right.
When she finally screams out my name and her body tenses with her orgasm, I let myself drink in her pleasure.
I let her pull every last inch of me inside and shatter right after her, spilling myself inside of her.
Tomorrow, there may be consequences. Tonight, there’s only pleasure.