Chapter 24 #2
His forehead drops to mine. “You’re going to destroy me, solnyshko.”
“Good. Then we’ll be even.”
* * *
The auction bell chimes.
Roman guides me to seats near the front, his hand sliding to the nape of my neck again, that possessive grip that tells everyone watching exactly who I belong to.
Lots pass in a blur—a Kandinsky, a Malevich, prices climbing into millions—but I’m barely paying attention because Roman’s hand has now slipped under the white tablecloth and found my thigh.
His fingers trace slow circles on my inner leg, moving higher with each pass, and my breath catches.
“Roman.”
“Smile at the auctioneer, Anya. Keep your face neutral.”
His fingers slide higher. He finds the seam of my panties, the dampness soaking the silk.
“Roman, we’re in public—”
“I know.” His thumb presses against my clit through the fabric. “Keep a straight face, solnyshko. You’re soaking through your dress. If you gasp, they’ll know.”
“I’m going to kill you.”
“You’re going to come for me. Right here. In silence.”
“Lovers in Blue,” the auctioneer announces. “Marc Chagall, 1952. We’ll start the bidding at five million Euros.”
The painting appears, and I forget how to breathe—or maybe that’s Roman’s hand, which has slipped past my underwear and found exactly where I’m wet and aching for him.
Two figures falling through endless blue, tangled together, so consumed by each other that nothing else exists.
“Eight million Euros.” A voice from the back.
“Nine million.”
“Twelve million Euros.” Polina. Standing with her paddle raised, emerald silk catching the light.
Roman’s fingers press harder, and my thighs clamp around his wrist. “What do you want, solnyshko?”
“I want that painting. And to come on your hand.”
His mouth curves against my ear. “Then take it. Buy it yourself.”
He pulls his hand away—I nearly whimper at the loss—and presses the auction paddle into my palm.
“Spend my money.”
I raise the paddle with a hand that’s not quite steady. “Fifteen million Euros.”
Gasps ripple through the room.
Polina’s jaw tightens. “Eighteen million.”
She’s not buying art. She’s trying to buy her way back into relevance. She’s trying to buy him back.
I look at Roman. He’s watching me with dark eyes, waiting to see what I’ll do.
“Twenty million Euros.”
Polina glances at Vadim, who gives the smallest shake of his head. She sets her paddle down, fury barely hidden behind her smile.
“Sold! Lot seventeen to Mrs. Volkova for twenty million Euros!”
Roman’s hand slides back between my thighs, rewarding, claiming. “That’s my girl.”
“I just spent twenty million of your money.”
“I know.” His fingers find my clit and press right where I need him. “And you looked like a fucking queen doing it.”
“The painting—”
“Looks like us.” His voice drops to a growl against my ear. “Falling. Drowning. Too obsessed to care.”
I come silently, shaking, biting down hard on my cheek while the room applauds a painting I can barely see through the pleasure.
“Beautiful,” Roman murmurs against my ear. “Now let’s dance before I fuck you on this table.”
The ballroom transforms for dancing—lights dimmed, orchestra playing something haunting—and Roman leads me onto the floor with his hand still wet from touching me. His palm settles on my back, and I can feel myself on his fingers, can smell my own arousal mixing with his cologne.
We waltz with all that danger turned into something that looks almost civilized, and from the balcony above, Vadim watches.
“Smile,” Roman murmurs.
I tilt my face up and give them the show they paid for. I look at him like he hangs the stars, like I don’t see the blood on his cuffs. Every time I look at him, I think about how he’ll die if Ash fails. How I’ll die. How everything we’re building will collapse into blood and silence.
“When we get home,” I murmur against his jaw, “I want you to finish what you started under that table.”
“Solnyshko, when we get home, I’m going to spread you out on my desk and eat you until you scream loud enough for the guards to hear.”
“Is that a promise or a threat?”
“Yes.”
The music ends.
Then I see him—Luka at the edge of the floor, face hard and grim. He catches Roman’s gaze and gives the smallest shake of his head.
Roman goes absolutely still.
“Stay close.” His hand slides from my back to my elbow. “Don’t react.”
He crosses to Luka, and they speak for thirty seconds—too quiet to hear, too tense to be anything but bad news. Then Roman’s face goes completely blank.
He returns with steps that look casual but aren’t. His hand finds my elbow.
“We’re leaving.”
“What happened?”
“Not here. Smile. Wave to Vadim. Walk out like we just got bored.”
We move toward the exit while Vadim calls from the balcony: “Leaving so soon, nephew?”
Roman stops and smiles. “My wife is tired.”
“Of course.” Vadim’s eyes slide from Roman to me, and the weight of his attention makes my skin crawl. “Anya. You handled Polina beautifully tonight. I do hope we’ll have more opportunities to… talk. Just the two of us.”
“I’ll check my calendar,” I say flatly.
Roman’s hand tightens on my elbow.
The doors swing open, and December’s cold slams into my lungs—the kind of cold that bites straight through silk like the dress isn’t even there. My nipples harden instantly, goosebumps racing up my arms, and I’m shivering before we hit the second step.
Roman strips off his jacket without breaking stride and wraps it around my shoulders. The wool is still warm from his body, heavy with cedar and smoke. I pull it tight and breathe him in while my teeth chatter.
The black Audi idles at the curb. Luka’s behind the wheel with the engine running, his face lit blue by the dashboard glow, jaw set hard.
Something went very fucking wrong.
“Get in.”
I climb in, and he slides beside me, the door barely closed before Luka starts moving.
“Tell me.” I can barely breathe. “What happened?”
Roman stares out the window while Moscow blurs past.
“The office was empty. Safes cleared. Documents gone.” His voice sounds hollow. “Someone knew about the heist before Ash arrived. Someone cleared everything hours before. And they have him.”
My stomach drops. “Vadim knows.”
“Maybe. Or someone else is playing—someone who benefits from both Vadim and me bleeding.” His eyes find mine in the darkness. “Dmitri controls Chechen intelligence. He has informants in places even Vadim can’t reach.”
“You think Dmitri tipped off Vadim?”
“I think my cousin wants us fighting each other while he positions himself as the safe alternative.” His hand finds my jaw, thumb stroking once. “If Dmitri is playing both sides, I’ll cut his legs out from under him and leave him alive long enough to watch everything he built burn.”
“You think Ash will say our names?”
“Not if he loves Katya. We didn’t just start a war tonight, solnyshko.” His thumb traces my cheekbone. “We walked straight into one that was already fucking waiting.”
I press my hand over his.
“Then we make them regret starting it.”
His mouth curves—not quite a smile, but close.
“That’s my girl.”