Page 11

Ringtone I was far too familiar with rang through the office. The device buzzed against my thigh, sending vibrations down my body. Any other time, I would’ve welcomed the sensation. Now, it was all I could focus on.
Our regular meetups were constantly interrupted by that annoying sound.
I narrowed my eyes at the man behind me. Malek stood in his full glory, too wrapped up in pleasure to acknowledge the noise. His jeans hung low at his hips, just enough to spare us the time. I wiggled out of his grip, intent on cutting the phone from his pocket.
Crash it against the wall. Drown it in the whiskey cup. Anything to silence it.
When he continued without notice, my patience ran out. I reached for the phone, smashed it on the table, and put it on speakerto rile him up. Hushed words filtered through the device. While I now spoke fluent Russian, the dialect was entirely unfamiliar to me.
Malek’s arm wrapped around me from behind, pulling me close. With surprising gentleness, he cupped my chin, forcing me to look up at him. His thumb brushed over my lower lip, eyes burning with something darker than just desire.
“Focus,” he murmured. But his eyes never left mine as he picked up the phone, listening intently to the call. I studied him, noting the tension in his jaw and the way his grip stayed firm around my chin. The subtle possessiveness was his signature move, but I refused to analyze the reasons.
There was only one use outside of work I had for the man, and my intentions had been clear since day one.
When he finally spoke to whoever was on the phone, I laughed at his secretiveness. I didn’t care who he was talking to. Another woman or Bratva business, it was all just noise to me.
What I cared for was his attention for the short time I allowed him close.
“If we can’t even fuck in peace, we’re nothing,” I threatened, ready to give up the little we had, loud enough for the caller to hear. I’d grown tired of the interruptions.
Malek didn’t respond right away, his gaze flicking over me as if calculating something. When he finally hung up, he released my chin with an almost reluctant sigh.
“I’m leaving for Russia today,” he announced, his voice thick with the weight of the decision.
He tucked himself in, placed a kiss on my forehead. And when he turned to leave, it hit me. Seeing his back didn’t bother me. I hadn’t craved his presence, only the adrenaline, the high. One side was more dependent than the other. The terms of our arrangement had blurred somewhere in between the moans and rushed decisions.
“This is it, Malek. I’m calling it,” I shouted after him, making my seriousness clear.
There was no acknowledgment, no sign of understanding in the subtle smile he gave me.
“Later,solnishko,” he replied, shutting the door behind him on his way out.
Damn that unfit name. There was nothing bright about me. When I shined, it was the light that led you straight to the depths of hell.
Alone in the room, I looked around, wondering why I’d come early. Ilya had summoned me for a meeting, but it wasn’t for another hour.
Files were scattered across the floor, all wiped away in a moment of impatience. I stood over the papers, ignoring the photos peeking from each file.
What hadn’t landed in my inbox was not my problem to solve.
I sneaked downstairs into Ilya’s office, avoiding any interaction along the way. The same couches from all those years ago still stood in the space, so I sat in the same spot, waiting. I stared directly across, recalling the first time I met the two of them.
Much had changed since then. We all changed.
Malek was still a member of Bratva, Ilya’s second in command, but things were far from ideal since he’d gained quite the popularity. The man worked his way up the ranks faster than anyone, immediately earning respect from his fellow members. He went from a foot soldier, a nobody, to the highest position an outsider could hold.
The kind of attention he was attracting was dangerous. Ilya knew it, but we still hadn’t addressed the claims. To complicate matters, Malek and I had this little thing going. Ilya was aware, but he never brought it up.
Long before his advances, and well past our first meeting, Malek had been visiting the States regularly after Ilya tasked him with overseeing business operations in Russia in Pakhan’s name.
Don’t get me wrong, there were plenty of attractive men in the underground groups. I sought them out whenever the urge hit, sparing myself the guilt of bringing someone from the outside. These guys made theirown choices. They joined the ranks and accepted the consequences, along with the dangers. I had nothing to do with it.
Malek was my first selfish decision. One that led to a night or two of passion or more like rough fucking we both needed. I told myself I’d stop so many times that I lost count.
Perhaps it was the initial pull or just the familiarity I clung to. We got the attraction out of our systems. It was time to move on.
No longer the girl who feared the world. An orphan turned assassin, hanging out and fucking with well-known criminals. That’s what my life had become. Mother would be proud. NOT.