Page 21

I press my back against the wall, heart hammering as I strain to catch every word filtering through the heavy office door. The wood muffles the conversation, but I pick up enough to piece things together.

“Tell me what you have, Andrei.”

“You’re looking into Sophia Spade. Can’t say I know much beyond what everyone else does. Cunning woman, dangerous in the right ways. Careful. Meticulous. Which is why I find it strange that you seem to have such easy evidence against her.”

My stomach twists.

I knew it. I knew Sophia wouldn’t have done something that reckless. For all her cold calculation, she wouldn’t resort to something as messy as an outright assassination—especially one that did so little to benefit the Spades. The Bratva thrived whether Valeri was alive or not. Killing him didn’t weaken them. If anything, it gave Mikhail more of a reason to go after my family.

Which means someone else set her up.

I suck in a sharp breath, forcing myself to stay quiet, to think.

Mikhail doesn’t believe the evidence against Sophia is real. Or at least, he’s starting to question it. That could change everything. If Sophia isn’t the real target, if the Spades aren’t behind Valeri’s death, then what the hell does that mean for me? For her? For the war brewing between the families?

I press closer, desperate for more information.

“You think I’d hold out on you? Believe me, I’ve dug. Nothing ties back cleanly. But I’ll keep my ears open. You know I always do.”

The voice is unfamiliar, laced with a cold calculation that makes my stomach flutter.

Mikhail replies, “Do that. Let me know if anything changes.”

“Of course.” There’s a pause. Then, “Careful, Mikhail. You’re looking at shadows. Sometimes, shadows look back.”

He’s getting restless. I can hear it in the way he speaks, in the clipped edge of his words. He’s used to control, used to getting what he wants—when he wants it. Now, with Sophia’s supposed guilt being thrown into question, his certainty is unraveling.

I swallow hard, mind racing. What do I do with this?

Before I can think further, I hear movement. Shit.

I push off the wall and hurry down the hallway, careful not to make a sound.

Behind me, I hear Mikhail’s chair scrape back. The door creaks open.

I turn the corner just in time. I duck into an alcove near one of the grand windows, pressing my back to the cold marble wall. My breath is uneven, my pulse pounding in my ears.

Footsteps. Heavy. Measured. I close my eyes, willing myself to be invisible.

For a long moment, there’s nothing but silence. Then, I hear him exhale sharply. A moment later, the door clicks shut.

I don’t dare move. Not yet.

After what feels like an eternity, I force myself to inch away from the wall, legs weak beneath me. The air is thick with tension, but I know I need to get back before someone notices I’m missing.

I head back to my room, my mind a storm of conflicting emotions.

Sophia. The murder. The evidence that was never meant to be found. Mikhail.

Mikhail, who is starting to see through the cracks. Mikhail, who—despite my best efforts—I can’t stop thinking about.

What the hell am I supposed to do now?

I make my way down to the kitchen, my pulse still racing from the close call. The room is empty, save for the low hum of the refrigerator and the lingering scent of the morning’s coffee. My hands are shaking as I pull the hidden phone from my pocket, quickly dialing Sophia’s number.

She answers on the first ring. “Julie?”

I exhale sharply, gripping the edge of the counter. “I have news,” I whisper.

A brief pause. Then, “Go on.”

“I was eavesdropping on Mikhail and Ivan,” I say quickly, my voice barely above a breath. “They were talking about Valeri’s murder. The evidence against you—it was too obvious. Too easy. Even Mikhail thinks it looks like a setup.”

Silence. Then Sophia lets out a slow breath. “That means he’s going to start digging.”

“Yeah,” I confirm. “If he finds out the truth before we do—”

“He’ll use it against us.”

Exactly.

I expect relief in her tone, maybe even gratitude, but Sophia’s mind is already elsewhere. Her voice turns brisk, focused. “Okay. What about Greg Evans?”

My stomach sinks. Right. The real reason job she has for me.

I wet my lips, stalling. “I—I didn’t hear much,” I admit. “They were talking about security. Ivan said the cameras cover everything.”

“That doesn’t help us,” she says, her voice clipped. “You need to do better.”

I bristle slightly but bite my tongue.

“Julie, listen to me,” she continues, her tone more controlled now. “This deal is critical. If we sabotage it, we weaken them financially. And when they’re weak, they’re vulnerable.”

“I know.” I inhale deeply, trying to gather myself. “I’ll figure it out.”

“You don’t have to figure it out,” she says smoothly. “I already have a way.”

My fingers tighten around the phone. “What do you mean?”

“There’s a USB drive hidden in the lining of the purse I sent you.”

I blink. “What?”

“Get to Mikhail’s laptop,” she instructs. “Plug it in. The software will do the rest. You don’t need passwords or codes. It’ll extract the data we need in seconds.”

“Sophia—”

“You can do it, Julie. It’s easy.”

Easy. Breaking into Mikhail’s personal laptop. Stealing information that could make or break his entire business.

I swallow hard. My fingers tremble as I glance toward the hallway. If I get caught…. “I have to go,” I murmur.

Sophia doesn’t waste time with goodbyes. “Make sure you do this.” Then the line goes dead.

I lower the phone, my heart slamming against my ribs. Easy.

Then why does it feel like I’m about to make the biggest mistake of my life?

The moment I hear footsteps approaching, I cut the call, my breath hitching in my throat. My fingers move quickly, shutting down the phone and shoving it into the nearest drawer. My heart is hammering, the guilt already creeping up my spine like ice-cold fingers.

Mikhail steps into the kitchen, his imposing frame filling the doorway. His eyes find me instantly, sharp and assessing. “How was the clinic?”

I swallow hard, forcing my expression into something neutral. “It was fine,” I say, my voice lighter than I feel. “The vet said she’ll be okay.”

Mikhail watches me for a beat too long. His gaze doesn’t waver, and I know he sees something in my face. I feel the weight of his scrutiny pressing down on me, my stomach twisting into knots.

“What’s wrong?” His voice is smooth, but I know better than to think he’s asking out of concern. He’s analyzing, searching for any crack in my facade.

I shake my head quickly. “Nothing. Just… tired.”

His eyes flicker slightly, and then—just for a second—they dart toward the counter behind me.

My chest tightens. He’s looking right at the drawer. Does he know?

Panic surges through me, white-hot and suffocating. I need to distract him. Now. Before I can second-guess myself, I step forward and press my lips against his.

Mikhail stiffens against me, caught off guard. For a brief, breathless moment, he doesn’t move. Then his hands grip my waist, steadying me as he pulls back just enough to look me in the eyes. His gaze is full of suspicion, as if he’s trying to read my mind.

“What was that?” His voice is low, questioning.

I force myself to hold his stare, my fingers tightening against the fabric of his shirt. “I… have to admit something.”

His brow lifts slightly. “Go on.”

I take a shaky breath, my pulse roaring in my ears. “Ever since that night… when you took my virginity….” My voice drops lower, deliberately laced with something breathy, something vulnerable. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Mikhail’s grip on my waist tightens. His expression shifts—curiosity darkening into something deeper, something more dangerous.

For the first time since stepping into this house, I feel like I have the upper hand. I pray it’s enough to keep him from looking too closely.

Before he can ask another question, I kiss him again—hard and fast, my hands gripping the front of his shirt. My tongue slips past his lips, silencing him completely.

At first, he doesn’t move, as if caught off guard, but then his grip on my waist tightens further, fingers digging into my hips with a possessive force. A low, approving sound rumbles from his throat, and he presses forward, backing me up until my spine meets the cool surface of the kitchen wall.

He exhales against my lips, his breath warm, teasing. “You’re desperate.”

I shudder at the way he says it, his accent thickening just slightly. “Shut up,” I murmur, just as breathless as I am flustered.

Mikhail chuckles, deep and knowing. “You kiss me like you want something.” His lips trail along my jaw, the slight graze of his teeth making my skin prickle. “Tell me… are you distracting me… or yourself?”

I don’t answer, because I don’t know. I started this to keep him from questioning me, but now I feel like I’m the one unraveling. My pulse pounds as he drags his hands down my sides, gripping the curve of my waist.

His thumb brushes just beneath the hem of my blouse, teasing the bare skin of my stomach. He leans in, his lips grazing the shell of my ear. “You act like you hate me, but your body says otherwise.”

A shiver rolls through me. I hate that he’s right.

“I should punish you for being so reckless,” he murmurs, trailing his mouth down my throat, sucking lightly at the sensitive skin there. His voice is smooth, taunting. “Throwing yourself at me like this.”

I suck in a breath as he slides his knee between my thighs, pressing just enough to make me feel how utterly trapped I am beneath him. My body reacts before my mind can catch up, heat pooling low in my stomach.

He notices. Of course he notices.

Mikhail tilts his head, a slow smirk curling on his lips. “See? You do want something.” His hand slips beneath my blouse, fingertips tracing over my ribs. He kisses me again— harder this time, rough and possessive, stealing the breath from my lungs.

I whimper against his lips, gripping on to his shoulders as he deepens the kiss. His tongue strokes against mine in slow, deliberate movements, making my head spin.

He reaches for his belt, one hand allowing his cock free while the other pins me mercilessly against the wall. He’s already hard, the tip leaking creamy precum.

I gasp as he hikes up my skirt, and when he slides past my folds, oh, I’m in heaven. The feel of him is familiar now, thick and weighty, heady and comforting all at once.

His hand slides further up, teasing the underside of my breast as he ruts into me, his touch firm, knowing. “So responsive,” he mutters against my lips, clearly pleased. “Maybe I should take you right here. Let you scream my name where anyone could hear.”

My breath stutters. My heart pounds, and I swear I’m even wetter, somehow. I don’t even realize I’ve arched into him until his smirk deepens.

Mikhail’s grip tightens, his large hands bracing against the wall beside my head as his body presses flush against mine. His heat seeps through the thin fabric of my blouse, his scent—a mix of expensive cologne and something inherently him—clouding my senses.

I barely have time to breathe before he quickens his pace. The weight of him presses me against the wall, his cock spreading me so wide, I can hardly feel my legs.

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing, hmm?” His voice is low, taunting, but there’s something else there too—something rougher, more genuine.

“Trying to control me.”

I shiver. “Is it working?”

His movements still, and when he pulls back, his piercing dark eyes meet mine, something unreadable flickering beneath their depths. “No one controls me,” he says, his tone soft but firm. Then his lips curl into a knowing smirk. “No one but you. You’re mine, and I’m yours.”

A sharp inhale catches in my throat.

His .

Not as a possession, not as something to own—but as something claimed. As something wanted.

It’s different from the other times he’s taunted me, pushed me, taken from me. There’s no arrogance in his words now, no mocking lilt to his voice. Just raw, unfiltered truth.

I should reject it. I should push him away, spit some sharp remark that keeps the distance between us. I don’t. I can’t.

Mikhail must see it, must feel it, because the teasing edge fades from his expression, replaced by something heavier, something real.

Then he thrusts again, seated deep inside of me, and I come undone. My thighs clench around his as I gasp, heat rolling off me, my walls clamping down on his gorgeous cock. I come so hard I see stars, my eyes scrunched closed as I heave in great big breaths.

There’s a second where the world seems to still. Then, Mikhail grunts out my name, his grip viselike. He floods me full of his hot, heavy seed; I feel it, heavy, dripping down my legs as he half pulls out.

His jaw tenses, his fingers flexing against my hip, but doesn’t pull out fully.

I part my lips to say something—to tease, to defy, to do something—but before I can, Mikhail captures my mouth in another kiss, hungrier, rougher than before.

Just like that, I’m lost again.