Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Tolya
Morning breaks through the blinds in streaks of gold and gray. For once, I don’t rise before the sun. Slowly coming to consciousness I remember I’m in the master bedroom with Eva. I can feel the weight of her against me, warm and soft, her leg hooked over mine, her head tucking under my jaw.
Eva.
I listen to her for a moment, finding the rhythmic calm breathing of her sleep soothing. My hand rests against the curve of her spine, and I don’t want to let go.
And that’s the problem.
Last night was supposed to be sex, just sex. A release, a consummation, duty, and nothing else. My way of reminding her who she belongs to. That I’m still in control.
But then she touched me like that, asking for me to stay, and something in my heart snapped. So I stayed, and not because I had to. Not because I was tired or had nowhere else to go. Because she wanted me to. I rub a hand over my face, exhaling a slow breath through my nose.
How did I get here? I can’t afford to want her like this. Can’t afford to let her get under my skin. It weakens me. And weakness in this world… gets you killed.
My phone buzzes against the wood surface of the nightstand. Carefully, I shift out from under her, untangling our limbs as I reach for the phone. She murmurs in her sleep, brows twitching for just a second, but she doesn’t wake.
I swipe my thumb across the screen. It lights up with a message from Yaro, I have more information on our rat. I’ll be in the penthouse shortly to give you a full report.
Of course he does. The man’s timing is impeccable.
Because God forbid I have one day of personal peace.
I shut off the screen, setting the phone back on the table as I roll off the bed and head for the bathroom.
The floor is cold against my feet, and the mirror fogs while I shower, but the steam does nothing to clear my head.
I towel off, dressing in silence. Black slacks, crisp shirt.
I clip the holster into place inside my waistband, tucking the SIG to my side.
Always prepared, even in my own home. When I’m done, I return to the bedroom just long enough to look at her again.
She hasn’t moved. Still in that same soft sprawl, the comforter tucked around her bare shoulders.
I lean down and kiss her forehead. Light. Gentle. The kind of touch that betrays everything I refuse to recognize. She stirs, lips parting slightly, but sleep pulls her back under. And I leave before I change my mind and end up in that bed with her all over again.
The elevator dings right as I reach the main room. Yaro steps out in an all black suit, as usual. He’s got a folder in one hand, and eyes me with a glint of smug amusement in his eyes. His gaze shifts toward the hallway behind me and back at me.
I cut him off before he opens his mouth. “Not a word.”
His brow lifts, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to.” I stride toward the office, opening the door and stepping inside. He follows close behind, silent like a shadow.
Once the door clicks shut behind us, the energy shifts. The amusement drains from his face as he tosses the file on my desk and nods at it.
“This is what I’ve uncovered thus far,” He doesn’t sit. “There’s a possibility it goes deeper than just this one man but as of yet I’ve found no further connections.”
I open the folder. Photos. Timelines. Phone records. Surveillance stills from one of our clubs. The name printed at the top turns my stomach.
“Gavril?” I mutter, jaw tightening. “He’s been with us for years. You're sure?”
“Da. About four months ago his gambling debts started stacking up. Someone offered to cover them. In exchange for intel.” Yaro folds his arms. “I cross-checked the dates of the security leaks with when he started losing heavily at The Verge. It lines up.”
“Motherfucker.” My teeth grind together. “And he’s still breathing?”
“For the moment. I wanted to bring you the proof first.” He nodded, “I’ve got him in holding at one of the outlying safe houses. Quiet, remote. I plan to interrogate him fully with your permission at the end of this meeting.”
I stare at the glossy photos spread out before me. Gavril at the docks. Gavril talking to someone in a car we’ve been trying to trace. Gavril outside the De Mello estate two weeks ago. By the looks of it he’s been feeding them information consistently for some time.
“Handle it,” I say. “ Just make sure no one finds the body.”
Yaro nods once, efficient as always. But he hesitates. “There’s something else.”
I lift my gaze to him, already on edge. “Spit it out.”
“I thought you should know.” Yaro pulls another few photos from his coat and lays them on the desk. “There’s chatter about Eva.”
“What kind of chatter?”
I go still as ice slides down my spine as I pick up the photos and look at them. Eva and De Mello at a dinner party. Eva getting into De Mello’s town car. Nico, Eva, and De Mello smiling over drinks at a gala.
“Some of our men think she’s a plant. A sleeper for Don De Mello. That she’s playing the long game.”
“She’s not,” I snap.
Yaro doesn’t flinch. “You sure?”
I don’t answer right away. Just stare down at the page, my jaw tight. I don’t need to wonder. I know.
“I know she’s not a sleeper,” I finally say firmly.
“You’re asking me to ignore chatter that puts her in De Mello’s inner circle.”
“I’m telling you to trust me.” A beat of silence. His eyes flick over my face, searching.
“Is there something I should know?” he asks, voice quieter now.
I hold his stare. “Just trust me.”
Another pause. Then a nod. Sharp. Reluctant.
Nico wouldn’t have risked her if she wasn’t clean. He and I had bled that deal into being, behind closed doors and off the books. It wasn’t a pawn trade. It was an oath. He gave her to me because he knew I’d protect her. Not because she was expendable—but because she wasn’t.
“She hasn’t had outside contact in weeks. No unauthorized calls. No coded letters. Mila hasn’t reported anything suspicious.”
“No,” Yaro agrees, tone careful. “But if I’ve learned anything working beside you all these years, Tolya, it’s that trust is a luxury. One we don’t get to afford. Not even with a woman like her.”
I clench my fists under the desk. “She’s not the problem right now. Gavril is. Focus on him.”
Yaro waits, watching me carefully, trying to read me. Waiting for my next move, but I don’t speak immediately. I’m thinking. There’s no urgency anymore. No ticking clock. We’re ahead of the curve for once, and that buys me time. I plan to use it wisely.
“This clears our path to resume our initial op.” I close the folder with a soft snap and look up at him. “But there’s one thing I need to take care of before we move forward.”
Yaro straightens, attentive. “What?”
“I’m taking Eva away for a while.”
“Are you serious?” His brow twitches, just slightly. “Now?”
“We’re not going to rush into this op again.
The rat’s caught. The pipeline’s locked down.
But De Mello’s on the offense right now, and the Italians are primed to take control once Nico makes the right move.
” I meet his eyes steadily, “Patience is the name of the game at this point. Let the chatter die down on both sides before we go after him again.”
Yaro’s expression doesn’t shift. Not even a flicker of emotion. But there’s a subtle tightening of his jaw, something that might have passed for tension if I didn’t know him better.
“I want a few weeks off the grid. I owe her a honeymoon. It’s time I paid the debt.”
“Alright, if you're sure,” he says simply, voice tight. “I’ll prep the rest of the crew and get a detail assigned to travel with you.”
“No,” I say firmly, “I want to do this quietly. No chatter, no eyes. Just me and her.”
He blanches at first, examining me carefully, and then nods. “Understood.”
He gives me a long look, then rises and walks out, leaving the door open behind him. I sat there a moment longer, looking over all of the photos on my desk, the weight of his words settling deep in my chest.
Trust is a luxury…
Swiping all the photos quickly into a stack I shove them into the top drawer of the desk and rise. I went straight back to the bedroom. My heart is pounding hard.
Once inside I yanked open the closet and pulled out two big black suitcases. They hit the floor with a heavy thud. I glance back at the bed and realize that Eva is no longer in it and I listen closely to the sounds in the room. The shower is running in the bathroom.
I toss both suitcases onto the empty bed. The sharp zip of the cases opening sounded reverberates through the space. I started ripping clothes off the hangers and stuffing them inside—shirts, pants, jackets, swimsuits—everything we might need.
A soft scrape on the floor made me pause and look up from my endeavor.
There she was, fresh out of the shower, wrapped in nothing but a damp towel. Her hair is still wet and hanging in strands over her bare shoulders. She’s brushing her teeth slowly, almost absentmindedly, watching me as she leans against the doorframe.
Just the sight of her wrapped in that towel has me growing hard, the pressure in my pants uncomfortable. A surge of lust shoots through my body and all I can think about is pulling that towel down and exploring her body all over again as I’d done last night.
“What are you doing?” she asks around the toothbrush in her mouth.
“We’re going away,” I say, crossing the room to stand in front of her. I reached out and took her arms gently, rubbing them as I stepped closer. “For a few weeks.”
Her eyes search mine, confusion shifting quickly to concern.
“Tolya—”
I press a kiss to her forehead, before staring deep into her eyes. “I owe you a honeymoon. I’m taking you somewhere special, just us.”
I feel her breath hitch. The tension in her shoulders softened under my hands. She lowered her toothbrush, letting it hang from her lips, and nodded slowly.
“Alright,” she says. “Let me finish getting ready.”
I smile, the tension between us easing just a bit. “Good.”
I reached into the suitcase and pulled out a soft, flowing sundress. “Put this on.”
“Fine, but I need undergarments first.” She takes it, a playful gleam lighting up her eyes as she laughs softly and disappears back into the bathroom.
I go back to the suitcase and pull a pair of underwear and their matching lace bra out. When I turn back to her she’s discarded the toothbrush and has a look of playful irritation on her face. Walking back to her I dangle them in front of her.
“You mean like these?”
Before she can step past me, I wrap my arms around her waist and lift her off the ground effortlessly. The laughter as she throws her head back is rich, genuine. My dick pulses at the sound, just seeing her in that towel had turned me on. The sound of her melodic laugh only made me harder.
“Put me down, Tolya!” Eva cries playfully, kicking her legs with mock fury. She squawks, trying to wriggle free without losing her towel, but I toss her on the bed and seal my lips over hers in a deep, hungry kiss.
When I finally pull back, she’s breathless and panting in my arms and I whisper against her mouth, “Put clothes on, fast. Or I’m going to take you right here, right now—and we’ll miss our flight.”
A few minutes later we stand side by side in the elevator, suitcases resting at our feet. My eyes tracing the curves of her legs, the way her sundress hugs her hips, the soft swell of her breasts beneath the fabric. That fire sparks low in my gut again, and I couldn’t hold back anymore.
“Fuck it,” I say, voice gravelly with arousal. I slammed my palm down on the stop button.
Eva’s head snaps toward me, eyes wide. “What are you doing?”
I don’t answer with words. Just grab her by the waist, spinning her around so her back faced the mirrored wall.
My fingers hook under the hem of her dress, hiking it higher, teasing bare skin.
Grabbing her ass and lifting her to rest on my hips, pinning her body between the mirrored wall and my own.
My lips find her neck in a brutal, claiming bite. Teeth grazed, biting down just enough to make her gasp and moan. I watch her in the mirror every gasp, every flicker of pleasure, every shiver.
“Tolya, you can’t be serious.” She looks up at the camera in the corner of the elevator. A crimson blush cast across her cheek. “Here?”
I bury a hand in her hair and pull her mouth to mine, kissing her with such feverish need that it's animalistic. Murmuring against her lips between breaths.
“Yes. Here. Now. Right now.”
With a swift movement, I free myself, hooking her panties out of the way with a finger almost simultaneously. Then I slam into her, hips thrusting with primal need. She rocks against me, head lulls back, riding every wave of pleasure I sent through her, hands clutching my shoulders.
“Who do you belong to Eva?” I demand from her, watching the roll of pleasure across her face in the mirror. She opens her eyes, those hauntingly beautiful eyes meeting mine in the reflection. “Who owns you?”
“You,” she gasps the word as. “You do. I’m yours.”
A wicked smile breaks across my face at her words. Her moans edge me on, filling my body with a rapid influx of endorphins as I continue to rock my hips dipping my hard length in and out of her over and over.
“That’s right, baby girl,” I growl. “You’re mine.”
Time blurs as we both watch in the reflections all around us—every thrust faster, deeper, harder. Her moans fill the elevator as she tumbles over the edge again and again. And I’m not far behind her, with a final thrust I feel my release fill her.
When we finally collapse against each other, breathless, my arms wrap tightly around her trembling body. This honeymoon is going to be just what we both need.