Page 22

Exercises, calorie deficits, starvation, and maybe diarrhea.

Those were more logical explanations for losing two pounds of weight in one night. Not nightmares. The number of times I’d woken up from sleep, screaming and clutching the sheets because of lifeless, bloodied eyes drowning in deep blue seas was unhealthy. The aroma of breakfast hadn’t been appealing, and the thoughts of doughnuts reminded me of Nathan.

I climbed off the scale and put my shoes back on, smiling at the attendant who’d assisted with holding my bag and water bottle. “Thanks, Natalie.”

“Anytime, Miss Sinclair.”

I was sleep-deprived, hungry, and already excited for the day to end, though it had barely begun, but if there was one thing I was not, it was a coward.

I pushed open the door to my office, already knowing who was sitting on the couch waiting for me. “Good morning, Mr. Yezhov.”

“Hazel.” He nodded curtly.

He sat across from me, his posture as effortless as always, legs crossed at the knee, hands resting lightly on the armrests. He looked composed, as if this was just another meeting. But I knew better now.

This would be our last session.

With the same vigor I had used to ask Amelia for a challenge, I was going to use the same to recommend that Miron Yezhov be taken to an asylum.

Seeing his face reminded me of the men in his office and the blood he had on his hands. Literally. Whatever madness plagued him was bigger than just anger management problems. He’d had a knife pressed to a man’s throat. The main reason he was here was because he’d hit an old man across the head with a bottle.

The signs had always been there, hadn’t they? But I’d been blinded by his charm and everything else to even recognize that the help he needed was anything but therapy.

For all I knew, he could be a serial killer or an assassin. Whatever it was, I couldn’t understand him. And to help someone, I had to understand what I was dealing with.

“I think we should end here,” I said, keeping my voice measured. It wasn’t easy. My chest was tight, my breath shallow, but I had to remain steady. He would notice any wavering, and I refused to give him that satisfaction.

“End what here?”

“Our sessions. I can’t keep up with them.”

Miron tilted his head, an almost imperceptible movement, but I caught it. “Is that so?”

“Yes.” I folded my hands in my lap, pressing them together to keep them from shaking. “I’ve done all I can. And I’ve realized I’m not helping you.”

His lips curled downward the edges, the ghost of a frown. “You’ve come to a conclusion about me, then? Because of what you saw in the club?”

I allowed my gaze to dance on everything else but him, a heavy weight settling in my stomach. I had come to many conclusions about him. That he was cruel in a way that went beyond mere action. For a man to prepare to kill another without batting an eyelash, that cruelty had to be in his very nature. That he dissected people like they were puzzles meant to be solved, not individuals with feelings. That the coldness in his eyes wasn’t something I could thaw, no matter how much I tried to understand.

“I don’t think you need a therapist,” I said finally. “You need something else. And I can’t give it to you.”

“You think I’m crazy.”

“And would that be such a bad thing? Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve said that about you.”

His fingers tapped lightly against the chair’s armrest, a gradual, deliberate rhythm that mirrored the ticking clock. “But the other times you said that, you hadn’t seen what I was capable of.”

“I would rather not talk about what happened last Friday, Miron.”

“I know, but you sound afraid.”

I flinched. Not outwardly—no, I’d prepared myself too well for that—but something inside me recoiled.

Was that what this feeling was? Fear?

I thought the very reason I was putting an end to the sessions was because I was not a coward.

I lifted my chin. “I’m not afraid of you.” A half-truth. I wasn’t afraid of him in the way most people would be. But I was afraid of what he represented: that void, that depth of cruelty I would never fully understand.

He exhaled a quiet laugh. “Liar.”

I forced myself to hold his gaze, to keep my breathing steady. This was why I had to let go. How easily that sad laugh of his plucked the strings of my heart, conflicting me even more.

I reached for a notepad on my lap, tearing out the last page. “This is my final recommendation,” I said, waving it in the air. “I’ll be handing it over to Amelia, so I suggest you prepare yourself for someone else.”

He didn’t look at the paper. Didn’t even reach for it. Instead, he studied me and sprung up to his feet.

My pulse skipped as I watched him slide his hands into his pockets. “Hazel. I’m going to tell you something not a lot of people know. And I’m not telling you to evoke pity. After I’m done, I’ll walk out that door, and you will never have to see me again.”

I had seen sides of Miron before—the cold man beneath the suit, the guarded and snarky client, the man who hated therapy but looked out for his therapist.

But this? This was new. The tension that usually braced his shoulders was gone, and the ice in his gaze melted, leaving behind a transparency that had never been there before. His eyes had no walls now. Just exhaustion. Just truth.

“My life and yours, they’re not the same. They can never be. Our worlds are apart in ways you can’t even begin to imagine. You’re like the light, and I’m the darkness. And it’s not something that can go away when you wish upon a star; it’s who I’ve been for a very long time.”

I kept my legs crossed and focused on him to silence the pounding in my ears.

“I work for a very powerful man who controls a tight network of powerful and dangerous people.” He arched a brow. “You ever heard of the Mafia?”

Reluctantly, I nodded, not sure where he was going.

“Well, I’m a part of the Russian Mafia, as absurd as that might sound to you. I don’t regret being a part of it; it’s the only life I’ve ever really known and am comfortable knowing. We’re not saints, Hazel. We have our limits when it comes to hurting innocent men, women, and children. But when we need to eliminate threats, we do it with our eyes open.”

I was reaching for my bottle, trying to move past the part where he said Mafia, and I reminded myself that, before I let my emotions rule, I was first his therapist.

So, I maintained my professional composure.

“I’m taking my time to explain what— who I really am to you. As crazy as it is, I want you to have a clearer picture. You see those men in my office? They stole from me, double-crossed me, and ratted me out. And Jeffery Smith? The man’s a fucking snake. I won’t go into the details, but I’m telling you for a fact that I gladly hurt those who deserve it.”

He chuckled, but there was no humor. “You know, I’ve killed a man before. In fact, I’ve killed quite a number. But only one death is of significance to me.

“My father was always an animal. I don’t think I’d ever seen him be anything else. Violence ran through his blood, and he always took it out on us: me, my brother, and my mother. You know when I told you I learned how to give compliments years ago? That’s because the pig never has anything nice to say to her.

“I was fourteen,” he continued, voice devoid of emotion, like he was simply stating a fact. “I wasn’t sure where he’d been, but he came home wasted. He always did, but that night was worse. My mother was in the kitchen. She never fought back, just took it. But I knew…I knew he was going to kill her this time if I didn’t stop him.” His jaw tightened. “So I did. I stopped him.”

Silence pressed in, thick and suffocating. I didn’t look away, even as my heart pounded. This wasn’t a confession seeking absolution. There was no remorse in his voice. Just a simple, undeniable truth that he killed his father and didn’t regret it.

And he wanted me to know it.

For months, I had tried to understand Miron, peeling back layers of his anger and control issues, sifting through the jagged edges of who he was. And now I saw that the man standing before me wasn’t born; he was made.

I swallowed, my throat tight. “And after?”

His lips quirked, not in amusement, but something far more bitter. “After? I cleaned the blood off my hands, packed a bag, and never looked back. The Pakhan was kind enough to take my brother and me his wings, and that’s how it has been ever since. We have served him with loyalty, in everything. And that’s why—”

“Your marriage to Alina was arranged,” I finished for him. “It’s more like a transaction than anything else.”

“Yes. And I agreed because, as I said, the mechanics of this world are all I have ever known. I never have second thoughts about my loyalty and unparalleled obedience to the Pakhan .”

The gravity of his words pressed against my ribs, and yet, I didn’t recoil. I should have. A part of me, the rational part, knew that. But I couldn’t.

Because for the first time, Miron wasn’t hiding. And I couldn’t look away from that. The therapist in me wanted to probe deeper with questions to keep the conversation flowing for the records and reports. But my emotions which I had tried so hard to keep at bay overpowered all other rational thoughts.

I should have said something. Instead, I watched. My hands rested in my lap, fingers curled against the fabric of my skirt, grounding myself. I told myself I wasn’t disappointed as he moved toward the door, smoothing out the creases in his jacket. I told myself I wasn’t affected when his dark gaze locked onto mine one last time.

His lips parted slightly before he finally spoke. “That was until you came along. I’ve never had regrets or second guesses about anything at all. Yet you…you do something to me, Hazel.”

The words landed softly, but they struck deep.

In that moment, all my training, all the carefully constructed walls between us, scattered. My pulse skipped, and I felt something dangerous curling in my chest, something I wasn’t supposed to feel. If I sat there for too long, he was going to leave, and that would be the last I’d see or hear of him.

But my heart waged war against it, propelling me to my feet, pushing me toward him before his hand could touch the knob on the door.

I wrapped my arms around his waist, with my face pressed in his back, as tears poured from my eyes. The same tears I thought I’d blocked from flowing last night.

“Miron, no, don’t go.” He didn’t turn around, but I felt his shoulders slacken, and he let me hold him much longer. “You do something to me, too. It’s insane how much I think about you. I mean, where logic is concerned, everything is wrong about this; with all you’ve told me, I should be running for the hills, but I’m not. I don’t want to let you go. God, I know it’s selfish of me. We barely even know each other—”

“…and there is nothing I would keep from you, unless it’s unnecessary or confidential.” He turned around, and I got a good glance into his eyes. They were hard as granite but not with anger. Smoldering heat blazed in his eyes, and his hands cradled my face. “The necklace. It’s not there.”

Trust Miron to notice every minute detail.

“I took it off.”

Carefully, he searched my face. “You don’t think about him?”

“I broke up with him.”

Miron scoffed, and then, the craziest thing happened. He laughed. Wide mouth, twinkling blue eyes, and pure joy. The throaty sound traveled straight through my chest, fueling the fire already burning within, and stirred a pool between my legs.

“Interesting development,” he growled, and before I could mutter a word, he crashed his lips against mine.

The world around us slowed down to a fading noise.

God .

I’d missed him so freaking much. I moaned like a satisfied maniac. My eyelids fluttered shut, and I melted into his arms like pudding, fisting his shirt until my nails scraped the solid mold of his ripped torso. The aroma of breakfast wasn’t appealing; I couldn’t even stand my favorite doughnuts, but…Jesus. Miron’s mouth was a healing balm.

What I felt for this man had grown beyond a fatal attraction; it was a deepening, maddening experience that kept drawing me in like a black hole.

We moved against each other, grabbing, biting, nipping, and sucking like hungry predators feasting on prey in the savanna. Beneath my clothes, my nipples peaked, aching for him, and the warmth between my legs grew extremely uncomfortable.

Miron grabbed my hips, hoisting one leg from the ground to drape around his waist as he slammed me against the wall, knocking the breath out of my lungs. He was aggressive, and I wasn’t backing down either. He pressed against me, the hard bulge between his legs digging deeper between mine, and the tension brewing between us grew into a tsunami, blowing and crashing every reservation we’d ever had.

He smiled against my lips, his hot breath fanning my mouth. “Did you expect this to happen?”

“What?”

“The skirt,” he rasped, his hands moving to his belt. Miron dragged his lips to my throat and grazed the tender skin on my nape. “You’ve never worn one for a session.”

“You’re insane.” I laughed, joining him to unbuckle the steel keeping his pants on his waist. The belt came off, the zipper went down, and his pants hung low on his firm buttocks. I slid an arm behind his waist, palming one in my hand and dragging him closer.

“Someone’s growing bold, I see.” He bit my earlobe, sucking hard on it until I was pleading for him to hurry up.

“Miron, please,” I cried, twisting my face to catch his lips. “I have another client scheduled to walk in here in thirty minutes.”

“We better make use of the time, then,” he groaned into my mouth and pulled me, walking backward toward my desk. He trapped me against it, shielding the rest of the view with his body.

Miron was merciless, hard, and unforgiving. I needed oxygen, but having him bunch up my skirt and cup my thong eliminated that thought. I arched into him, pushing my dripping pussy into his hand. He fisted the thong and, in a flash, ripped it apart.

I barely made it through another breath of air before he slipped two fingers into me at the same time. My head rolled backward, a guttural sound tearing from my throat.

“Do you like that?”

“God, yes.” Hazily, I kissed his jaw and pulled at his cotton briefs. “Miron, there’s no time.”

He pushed his fingers deeper, catapulting me to a dangerous edge, but didn’t allow me to tip over. “How many minutes left?”

“Twenty, twenty-five—I don’t know. But I need at least ten minutes to put myself together.”

“Because you know I’m going to fuck you until you shatter, right?”

Blushing as an effect of dirty words had never been my thing until Miron. They made my heart soar. Made me anticipate.

“We’re doing something different today. If it hurts, tell me to stop, and I won’t hesitate.”

Curiosity made me ask, “Something like what?”

His brows dipped in a crease. “If it hurts, tell me to stop, Hazel. Did you hear that?”

I nodded and was about to repeat my question when he flipped me around, gently pressing my stomach to the desk. Grabbing my hips, he bunched my skirt higher and spread my legs. Then, I felt his lips trailing kisses from my butt cheeks to my pussy.

“Miron….”

I groaned into the desk, curling my fingers to hold on to the other edge while the rest of my body quivered with blinding desire. His fingers played with my clit while his tongue and mouth did the fucking. It felt so insanely good that a ringing sound started in my ears, and I had to keep the moans from journeying out the window.

“You’re ready for me,” he growled against my sex and drew a loud gasp from me when his tongue lapped there and licked on my juices.

Rising to his full height, I heard the shuffle of his clothes, and his cock stationed at my entrance.

“You have to promise not to make a noise, okay?”

Miron spoke so incredibly softly that I thought I was in heaven.

“Okay— God, Miron.”

He’d driven into me, muffling the sexiest groan I’d ever heard from a man, and my walls clenched around him, slowly adjusting to his size. I spread my legs wider to accept all of him and closed my eyes, reeling in the ecstasy, pushing my hips to complete this divine merger that had absurdity written all over yet felt so right.

Holding my waist, he pulled out and rammed into me with more force than I ever thought I could handle. And I shamelessly begged for more. I couldn’t have enough. Not when he fucked me harder, deeper, and faster. Not when the desk quaked under our weight and the items clattered to the ground.

“This shit isn’t working,” I heard him say before he flipped me onto my back and raised me so we were gazing into each other’s eyes. “I need to see you while I fuck you.”

He drove into me again, and I bit the back of my hand from screaming. A throaty moan escaped my throat with each thrust. I bounced up and down, and he moved his hips with quicker precision until I was mumbling his name over and over again, like a hamster working its wheel.

The more he sank into me, the closer I got to the moon and stars, and when he kissed my sweaty neck and lips, the entire universe was at my feet.

He tensed beneath me, losing focus while he kissed my mouth, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, urging him to give one final push. He did, pulling out of me quickly to spill thick bursts of cum between my thighs as we shattered together, our orgasms exploding, and held each other tight.

From the couch, the iPad chimed—ten-thirty a.m.. The session had come to an end, but we could both feel that something else was about to begin.

With his chest rising and falling rapidly, he kissed my forehead. “I’ll be leaving now. But I promise, I’ll see you again soon.”