Page 18

I help a tipsy Quinn into the passenger seat of my car, unable to suppress an amused grin as she sings my family's praises. Her strawberry-blonde hair is slightly tousled, falling into her bright green eyes as she babbles enthusiastically.

“Mark, Natalia is soooo cool! Did you know she's made over three million dollars in sales with her clothing business? Three million! And she's only 29!” Quinn exclaims, her words just a little slurred. “And your cousin Damien—he told the funniest joke about a Russian bear walking into a bar...”

She bursts into giggles, tilting her head back against the seat. I laugh softly as I fasten her seatbelt, allowing my fingers to hover briefly over her collarbone. Even slightly drunk, her enthusiasm for life is contagious.

“I'm glad you had a good time, Myshka,” I tease. “They can be a rowdy bunch, but it seems like you fit right in.”

“Myshka?”

“Little mouse,” I chuckle as she playfully whacks me on the arm in protest.

As I slide behind the wheel and pull out onto the lamp-lit streets, Quinn continues recounting the evening's highlights, her hands gesturing animatedly. I navigate the familiar route to my place, only half-listening, distracted by the way the passing lights dance across her delicate features.

“Oh, and your brother Vladimir told me the most hilarious story about you as a kid!” she announces gleefully, poking me in the bicep. “Something about you stealing a police car and taking it for a joyride when you were fifteen?”

I groan, shaking my head ruefully. “That traitor. I'll have to have a word with Vlad about the importance of brotherly discretion.”

Quinn laughs, a melodic sound that warms me like a sip of fine vodka. “From the sound of it, discretion has never been your strong suit, Mr. Zolotov.” Her voice takes on a mischievously admonishing tone. “Taking a cop car for a joyride, flirting shamelessly with all the ladies...”

I smirk, glancing over at her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. “Well, I've always been a man who knows what he wants.” I let my gaze linger on her for a weighted moment before returning my attention to the road. “And right now, what I want is to get you home safe and sound.”

I navigate the lamp-lit streets with practiced ease while Quinn chats on, blissfully unaware of the intensity of my desire. For now, I content myself with stealing glances at her animated face, committing every smile and laugh to memory. She's already an addiction, and I know I'm in trouble.

***

When we return home, I maneuver the car smoothly to the porch. Killing the engine, I turn to Quinn with a smile. “Home sweet home. Let's get you upstairs to your room, hm?”

She blinks at me, those mesmerizing green eyes slightly unfocused. “Upstairs? To your room?” A giggle bubbles out of her. “Why, Mr. Zolotov, are you trying to seduce me?”

I chuckle, shaking my head as I exit the car and move around to her side. “Believe me, Quinn, when I seduce you, you'll know it.” I open her door and offer my hand. “Right now, I'm just trying to make sure you don't faceplant on the sidewalk.”

She pouts but accepts my assistance, stumbling slightly as she tries to find her footing. I catch her easily, one arm snaking around her waist to steady her. The heat of her body bleeds through the thin fabric of her dress, igniting a fire in my blood.

“Whoops!” she laughs, leaning into me. “Guess I'm a little tipsier than I thought.”

“Just a little,” I acknowledge, savoring her presence in my arms. It would be so easy to pull her closer, to claim that tempting mouth with my own. But I resist the urge, instead guiding her up the stairs with gentle pressure. “Come on, let's get you some water and a comfortable bed.”

By the time we reach her room, Quinn hums contentedly, resting her head on my shoulder. “You know, I think Lara and I are going to be best friends,” she declares, her words slurring slightly. “We just... we just clicked, you know? Like puzzle pieces.”

I raise an eyebrow, amused by her certainty. “Is that so? Should I be worried?”

She laughs, the sound pure and unrestrained. “Nah, you're safe. I promise not to tell her all your dirty little secrets.”

“And what secrets would those be?” I drawl, intrigued.

Quinn taps the side of her nose with a conspiratorial wink. “Remember when you kidnapped me?”

I guide her to the bed to help her into it. She wobbles a bit in her heels, and I tighten my grip on her waist reflexively.

“Easy there,” I murmur, my thumb rubbing soothing circles on her hip. “I've got you.”

She leans into my touch, humming softly. “You always do, don't you?” Her voice is low, almost wistful. “Even when I don't want you to.”

I pause, surprised by her words. There's a vulnerability in her tone that tugs at something deep within me. It stirs a desire to promise her the world, if only to chase away the shadows in her eyes.

But before I can respond, Quinn pushes away from me abruptly, tottering away from the bed on unsteady legs. “God, I need to get out of these clothes,” she mutters, reaching behind her back for the zip of her dress. “It’s so tight.”

“Wait, Quinn, No—” I protest, but she’s already gotten it unzipped. I hold back a groan as she begins to shimmy out of her dress, revealing the curve of her back and the lacy edge of her bra. It’s almost as if she’s moving in slow motion, her movements both deliberate and hazy with alcohol-induced confidence.

My eyes widen as she casually steps out of the puddle of fabric at her feet, standing before me in nothing but her underwear and fucking sexy heels. The air between us crackles with an electric tension I can almost taste, my gaze tracing the delicate lines of her body.

I should look away. I should grab a blanket and cover her up, maintain some semblance of propriety. But my traitorous eyes refuse to obey, fixated on the sight before me.

Quinn,” I rasp, my voice thick with desire and a hint of warning. “This isn't... You shouldn't...”

“These shoes,” she gasps. “God, they’re killing me. The playboy in me almost dies and reaches heaven when she bends over, revealing her creamy thighs, the curves of her ass spilling out of her panties.

I watch her struggle for a moment, feeling both an overwhelming concern and a frozen awe at the pure beauty before me. However, the man in me, the one who is beginning to understand just how much Quinn Desmond means to him, can only see her discomfort and the risk of injury.

With a sigh, I step forward and crouch down in front of her. “Here, let me.”

Quinn stills, her eyes widening as I gently bat her hands away and take over the task of removing her heels. My fingers graze the delicate bones of her ankles, and I feel her shiver at the contact.

“You don't have to...” she starts, but I silence her with a look.

“I want to,” I say simply. And it's true. In this moment, there's nothing I want more than to take care of her, to smooth away the weariness etched onto her lovely face.

She swallows hard, her gaze locked on mine as I slide the shoes from her feet and set them aside. The air between us is charged, heavy with unspoken emotion and simmering desire.

I know I should stand up and put some distance between us, but I can't tear my eyes away from the mesmerizing sight of Quinn Desmond, soft and vulnerable and oh-so-tempting, standing half-naked above me.

God help me; I'm in trouble. As I rise, I can feel the heat radiating off her body, the sweet scent of her perfume, and the warmth of her breath on my chest.

“To bed, now,” I growl and take her hand, turning my back to her to guide her in. She gets in and I put on the covers and switch off the lights from the central controls on her bedside, leaving just a small lamp on.

I’m about to turn away when I feel her grab my hand. I turn, surprised.

“Stay with me?” she whispers, her voice barely a whisper. “Just... just for tonight. I don't... I don't want to be alone.”

I freeze at her request, my heart racing as I meet her vulnerable gaze in the dim light. My mind is filled with conflicting emotions—desire warring with restraint, tenderness clashing against common sense. Quinn's green eyes search mine, a silent plea lingering between us.

Without a word, I carefully slide into the bed beside her, keeping my distance. She’s drunk, and I want to play no part in taking advantage of her. No matter how bad I want to take off those remaining items of clothing, to feel her skin against mine, her warmth on my cock.

She shivers and inches back against me. “I’m so cold…” she stammers. She curls into me, seeking solace in the shelter of my arms, and the warmth of her body seeps into mine. Her strawberry-blonde hair tickles my chin as she settles her back against my chest, and her soft breaths create a soothing rhythm in the darkened room.

I wrap my arms around her delicate frame, careful to keep one below her neck and the other around her waist. She’s half-naked, and I want to be cautious not to overstep any boundaries, even though it’s driving me crazy not to have more. The scent of her perfume mingles with the faint aroma of alcohol.

Her body molds perfectly to mine, her soft curves fitting seamlessly against my hardness. The dichotomy is not lost on me.

“Thank you,” she whispers. “For tonight. For everything.”

“There’s nothing you have to thank me for,” I whisper into her ear.

“Oh, but there is,” she says, half in slumber. “You showed me there’s another way to live.”

“I did?” I ask, curious.

“You once told me you don’t believe in true love, Mark. But tonight, I realized you don’t believe in it because you’ve never had to consider it. Your family—that’s true love. You’d do anything for each other. You’re your own little army, you know that? I’ve always been alone. No siblings. Busy parents. I never felt that anything was missing when I was a child, especially when my grandparents and Uncle were around, but tonight, I felt lonelier than I’ve ever felt. I’m jealous… Mark.”

She’s blabbering. Saying the very first thing that comes to her mind, yet it’s the most devastating monologue I’ve heard her deliver. I listen, my grip around her tightening imperceptibly as she talks. Quinn's honesty hits me in a way I never expected.

Her vulnerability tugs at something deep inside me, showing me the fragility of her desires. They’re simple, really. A family and love. That’s all she asks for.

“Family comes in many shapes, Quinn,” I whisper into her hair. “You’re so young, and there’s a lifetime to build one.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever have that. A happy ending…” Her voice trails off, and I can tell she’s getting sleepy.

“You might be surprised,” I pull her a bit closer as she continues to shiver. ”Besides, we Zolotovs love taking in strays. You’re one of us now.”

She snorts out a chuckle at my lame joke and then says nothing more. Soon, her soft snores fill the room, and I, too, close my eyes.