Page 13 of Bound Vows (Empire City Syndicate #3)

Andrei

Maya works the table like she was born to manipulate powerful men.

And all I can think is that I want her to do it in my lap.

“Extraction complete,” Alexei announces as our driver picks her up outside the restaurant. “She gathered more information than I expected she would.”

“Excellent. Begin analysis of the intelligence she gathered while I conduct the debriefing.”

Alexei nods and organizes transcripts while I review footage of Maya’s performance. The woman has a natural talent for manipulation that rivals operatives with decades in the field. The way she projects softness while pulling intel is calculated. Most people never develop that kind of skill.

Maya returns to the penthouse forty minutes later, still wearing her Lucia Bellanti disguise but moving in a way that belongs only to Maya. She enters my study without knocking, drops into the chair across from my desk, and fixes me with a stare.

“Well?” I ask while closing the surveillance monitors. “How did our friends respond to Lucia Bellanti?”

“Like starving men at an open buffet.” Maya kicks off her heels and rubs her feet with obvious relief. “Frankie invited me to Tuscany, offered me employment opportunities, and practically drew me blueprints of his shipping operations.”

“And the other families?”

“Paranoid but cooperative. They’re pooling resources to mount coordinated resistance against Russian expansion.” She reaches into her purse and retrieves a small recording device. “Complete with detailed defensive strategies and contingency plans.”

I accept the device and note how her fingers brush mine during the transfer. Even after hours of playing someone else, Maya affects me with the slightest contact.

“Exceptional work. You’ve provided enough intelligence to dismantle their entire network within weeks.”

“About that network.” Maya leans forward and places her elbows on my desk. “I accessed your computer before leaving tonight.”

She should’ve triggered every security alarm in my head.

Instead, I’m impressed.

Most people don’t admit to hacking me while sitting across from the man known for punishing betrayal.

“Did you find anything interesting?”

“Your family’s massacre wasn’t just about territory, was it?” Maya’s voice drops to something softer than her usual combative tone. “Someone wanted to send a message that went beyond business.”

I set down my vodka glass and study her face, searching for signs of manipulation or pity. Instead, I find genuine curiosity mixed with something that might be understanding.

“What makes you think that?”

“The audio recordings. The systematic execution of every family member, including children who posed no threat.” Maya removes her platinum wig and runs her fingers through her natural dark curls. “That level of brutality requires personal motivation.”

“Perhaps you should focus on your family’s survival rather than analyzing ancient history.”

“Ancient history that’s driving current events.” She stands and walks around my desk until she’s close enough to touch. “Your parents were negotiating territorial agreements, not planning aggressive expansion. Someone used that meeting to eliminate more than just competition.”

The familiar rage that accompanies any discussion of that night builds in my chest, but Maya’s proximity makes it difficult to let it take hold. She smells like jasmine and danger, a combination that never fails to affect my judgment.

“Sixteen people died that night. My parents, my siblings, cousins, even household staff who had nothing to do with business operations.” I drain the rest of my vodka and reach for the bottle. “They executed everyone except one.”

“Because you were hiding.”

“Because I was stealing champagne like a spoiled teenager instead of attending dinner with my family.” The self-loathing that accompanies this admission tastes bitter despite years of repetition.

Maya moves behind my chair and places her hands on my shoulders, her touch gentle despite everything between us. “You survived because you weren’t where you were supposed to be. That’s fortune, not cowardice.”

“Tell that to my dead siblings.”

“Your dead siblings would want you to use that survival for something meaningful rather than drowning in guilt.” Her fingers begin massaging the tension in my neck and shoulders. “You’ve spent sixteen years building an empire. Perhaps it’s time to consider what comes after revenge.”

The massage dissolves my resistance more effectively than alcohol or threats ever could. Maya’s hands work with intuitive knowledge of where I carry stress, and her touch makes rational thought increasingly difficult.

“After revenge comes peace. Something I haven’t experienced since that night.”

“Peace requires letting go of the past.” Maya leans down and speaks directly into my ear. “Can you do that, Andrei?”

Her breath against my neck sends electricity through my nervous system, and I realize this conversation has shifted from debriefing to something far more personal.

“I don’t know how to let go.”

“Then let me show you.”

Maya moves around to face me and settles onto my lap, straddling my thighs. The position puts us at eye level, and I can see compassion and desire in her still-blue gaze.

“This is dangerous territory, Piccola.”

“Everything about our situation is dangerous.” Maya frames my face with her hands and leans closer. “But after tonight, I could use some relief, too.”

When she kisses me, it’s nothing like our previous encounters. This kiss carries tenderness instead of aggression, and comfort instead of conquest. Maya takes her time exploring my mouth while her hands thread through my hair.

“Let me take care of you,” she whispers against my lips.

I should maintain control and remember that allowing vulnerability creates weakness that enemies can exploit. Instead, I surrender to Maya’s touch and let her guide this encounter according to her desires rather than mine.

She slowly unbuttons my shirt, then traces patterns across my chest that make me groan with need. When she reaches my belt, Maya looks up and waits for permission, which I grant with a nod.

“Tell me what you need,” she demands while freeing me from the confines of my pants.

“You. Just you.”

Maya stands long enough to remove her dress and underwear, then returns to my lap wearing nothing but the communication earring and a smile that promises everything I’ve craved since our first encounter.

But instead of positioning herself above me, she settles back and runs her hands across my chest with torturous slowness.

“Not yet,” she whispers when I reach for her hips. “I want to explore first.”

Her fingers trace every scar on my torso, pausing at the raised tissue near my ribs where a bullet grazed me years ago. Maya leans down and presses her lips to the mark, and her tongue follows the path of old violence.

“Tell me about this one,” she demands while moving to another scar.

“Knife fight in Moscow. I was nineteen and overconfident.”

She kisses that mark too, then continues her inventory of my body’s history. Each scar receives attention, and each old wound gets worshipped until I’m trembling beneath her touch. Maya’s mouth moves across my skin like she’s memorizing every inch, and her soft moans vibrate against my chest.

“And this?” Her fingers trace a particularly long scar across my shoulder.

“Glass from a car window. Same night I escaped captivity.”

Maya’s lips follow her fingers, and she bites gently at the raised tissue before soothing it with her tongue. The combination of pain and pleasure makes me groan and thrust upward, seeking friction that she denies.

“Patience,” she scolds while pinning my hips to the chair. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

Her hands move lower, ghosting across my stomach and down to my thighs while carefully avoiding where I need her most. Maya’s touch is feather-light and maddening, and when she finally wraps her fingers around my cock, I nearly come undone.

“I wonder what other reactions I can provoke,” she purrs while stroking me with agonizing slowness.

Maya slides off my lap and kneels between my legs, keeping her eyes locked on mine as she takes me into her mouth.

The heat and wetness of her tongue destroy my ability to form coherent thoughts, and when she takes me deeper, I grip the chair arms to keep from threading my fingers through her hair and taking control.

“Maya,” I groan as she works me with devastating skill.

She pulls back just enough to speak. “I want you desperate for me.”

“I already am.”

“Not desperate enough.”

Maya returns to her torment, alternating between long, slow strokes and quick flicks of her tongue that leave me gasping. She uses her hands to cup and massage while her mouth drives me toward madness, and just when I think I can’t take anymore, she stops.

“Please,” I beg without shame.

“Please what?”

“Let me touch you.”

Maya considers this request while trailing her fingers up and down my length with the barest pressure. “What will you give me in return?”

“Anything. Everything.”

She smiles and climbs back onto my lap, this time positioning herself so I can reach every part of her body. Maya guides my hands to her breasts, encouraging me to touch her while she continues her slow torture of my cock.

I worship her with my mouth and hands, rolling her nipples between my fingers until she arches against me with breathless moans. When I lean down to suck one peak into my mouth, Maya cries out and grinds against my thigh.

I lavish attention on her breasts until Maya is trembling and desperate, and her hips move in restless circles as she seeks friction. Only then do I slide my hand between her thighs and discover how wet she’s become.

“So ready for me,” I murmur while stroking through her slickness.

“Andrei, please.”

“Please what, Piccola?”

“Make me come.”

I find her clit and circle it with gentle pressure while she writhes in my lap. Maya’s hands clutch my shoulders as I build her toward release, and when I slide two fingers inside her, she nearly sobs with relief.

“More,” she demands.

I add another finger and increase the rhythm while my thumb works her clit. Maya rides my hand with abandon, with her head thrown back and her body moving with desperate need. When she finally shatters around my fingers, her inner muscles clench so tightly I nearly come from watching her pleasure.

“Beautiful,” I breathe while she recovers.

Maya opens her eyes and fixes me with a look of pure hunger. “Now I want you inside me.”

She positions herself above me and sinks slowly, taking me inch by inch while maintaining eye contact. The sensation of Maya surrounding me drives every coherent thought from my mind. She’s warm and tight and perfect.

“Look at me,” Maya commands when I close my eyes against the overwhelming pleasure. “I want to see you lose control.”

She sets a rhythm that’s torturous and divine, lifting herself almost completely before sliding back down at an agonizing pace. Every movement is meant to drive me toward the edge while keeping me suspended in exquisite torment.

“Maya,” I groan as she increases the pace.

“Tell me what you want.”

“Faster. Please.”

She complies by grinding against me in ways that make stars explode behind my eyes. Maya’s hands brace against my shoulders as she rides me with increasing desperation, and her breath comes in short gasps that mirror my own.

The sight of Maya lost in pleasure pushes me dangerously close to my release.

Maya grinds down hard and contracts around me in ways that shatter my remaining control. I thrust upward and bury myself as deep as possible while my orgasm tears through me with devastating force. She follows moments later, her body convulsing around mine as she screams my name.

We remain locked together for several minutes while our breathing returns to normal. Maya’s head rests against my shoulder, and I can feel her pulse gradually slowing where my lips press against her throat.

“That was…” I begin.

“A mistake,” Maya finishes while lifting her head to meet my gaze. “But one I don’t regret as much as I probably should.”

She climbs off my lap and gathers her discarded clothes with a speed that suggests she’s eager to restore distance between us. I watch her dress with appreciation for every curve and hollow that I’ve now mapped twice with my hands.

“Maya.”

“Yes?” She pauses while fastening her bra.

“Thank you. For listening, for understanding, for…” I gesture vaguely at the air.

“Don’t read too much into it, Andrei. Sometimes, people need comfort, and sometimes I provide it.” Maya steps into her dress and reaches for a button. “That doesn’t change anything between us.”

“Doesn’t it?”

She considers this question while finishing with her clothing, and something in her face softens despite her words. “Perhaps it changes some things. But you’re still holding my family hostage, and I’m still planning to escape at the first opportunity.”

“Of course. Though I hope when that opportunity arises, you’ll remember this conversation.”

“I’ll remember everything about tonight.” Maya picks up her shoes and heads toward the door.

After she leaves, I pour another vodka and review the recording device she provided. The intelligence Maya gathered tonight will allow me to dismantle three family operations within weeks, but her psychological insights prove even more valuable.

For the first time since Elena’s death, someone has seen my weakness and offered comfort instead of exploitation. The realization terrifies and intrigues me in ways I’m not prepared to analyze.