Page 24

YULIAN

When I step into the underground ring beneath the Goldenrod, the crowd roars.

It drowns out everything else. Drowns out my thoughts, too, which means it’s working.

But soon, the images resurface.

Mia, with Ieronim’s hands on her.

Mia, frozen in terror.

Mia, looking at me afterwards like I was a hero.

But I’m no fucking hero. Never have been, never will be.

And this—violence, blood, the cold snap of broken bone—is a reminder that I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

Certainly not home with her.

It’s been a week since it happened. A week since I dragged her out of that meeting, lost out on potential billions, and shoved her into the backseat of my Maybach.

A week since she spoke those words to me.

The car ride is quiet. Too quiet. I’ve never struggled with silence, but as Mia fidgets with her sleeves at my side, I realize I’m not good with this one. A silence that could mean anything.

I want to know what Mia’s thinking. If she’s okay. If she’s not. If she’s about to cry. If she’s only holding it in because she doesn’t want to look bad in front of me.

She has no idea she could never.

That thought surprises me. Catches me off-guard like a sucker punch. As the engine purrs beneath us, I wonder when exactly I stopped thinking of Mia like a nuisance and started thinking of her as a person .

Maybe I didn’t.

Maybe tonight’s just getting to me.

“We’re here,” Maksim calls from the driver’s seat. “Your stop, Miss.”

She gives Maks a quick nod, but stays where she is. Slowly, her blue eyes find mine.

“Do you want to come upstairs?”

“Hellooo?” Maksim snaps his fingers in front of my face. “Earth to Yulian?”

I shake myself out of those thoughts. Turns out, a roaring crowd is not an effective remedy against Mia Winters. Whatever the cure for that disease is, it hasn’t been found yet.

“Do that again and I’ll bite them off,” I warn him.

“Oh, good, he’s back.” Maksim winks. “Thought I’d lost you for a second there, buddy.”

“Call me ‘buddy’ one more time and I’ll?—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” My second waves a hand to cut me off mid-threat, still grinning from ear to ear. “That’s the Yulian we all know and fear.”

He starts taping my hands. I don’t let other people touch me unless it’s absolutely necessary, but this is a little tradition of ours. When I was just starting out, a kid of nineteen with a lot of anger and nowhere to put it, Maksim was always there for me.

C’mon, boy. Can’t punch your daddy’s killers if you don’t got hands no more, can ya?

We’ve come a long way since then. I’ve grown into my pakhan shoes, commanding respect from everyone under my authority. From the highest-ranked vor to the lowest recruit, no one dares treat me with anything less than absolute deference.

But Maksim’s different. He’s the exception. He’s seen me at my worst and never deserted me, never once wavered in his loyalty.

And for that, he takes a whole lot more liberty than anyone else would dare.

“Looking a little spacey tonight,” he notes as he finishes winding the wraps around my knuckles. “If I were you, I’d tap out early. Go find the girl who’s making your head spin.”

“I don’t tap out.” I flex my fingers, test the tape. “And there’s no fucking girl.”

Then I step into the ring.

My opponent looms, tall and large. His muscles are bulging in a way that screams steroids and shriveled dick, but hey, whatever makes him happy. It won’t save him either way. Nothing will.

Then the bell rings.

I duck the first punch, then the next. Whoever this motherfucker is, he doesn’t waste time circling. It speaks to poor strategy and a brain even more shriveled than his balls, but he makes up for it in viciousness. He’s feral, lunging and swinging and snarling every time he gets close.

A slow grin spreads on my face. Exactly what the doctor ordered.

I lose myself in the thrill of the fight.

But as my opponent’s moves start growing repetitive, my mind picks up the thread again. That worn, dangerous thread I swore to myself I’d never follow to the end.

“Do you want to come upstairs?”

There aren’t many people in the world who can make me speechless, but somehow, at that moment, Mia does it.

“It’s not—” She hesitates, embarrassment creeping up her cheeks in a delicious shade of red. “I just thought you might want coffee. Or water. Or—or something.”

“Something,” I echo.

“It was just an idea.” There’s a note of defensiveness in her tone. “My kid’s sleeping over at Kallie’s, and I feel bad for how… how the night went. I know I can’t make up for it, but I wanted to try.”

Make up for it.

Those words fill my head, crowd it with promises. I know, rationally, she isn’t offering me sex, but the way she says it… it’s tempting. More tempting than she realizes.

“It’s just…” Her fingers are tormenting that lace into shreds, but I can’t tear my eyes off of it. It’s hypnotic. “It’s my fault you had to leave. You hired me to make things easier for you, not cause trouble. I ? —”

“It wasn’t.”

She blinks. “What?”

“Your fault,” I clarify. “You said it was your fault. It wasn’t. Ieronim should have kept his hands to himself.”

For a long moment, she’s silent. Like she can’t wrap her head around it—something not being her fault. At Brad’s wedding, she had the same reaction.

I wonder if this is what she’s used to: thinking every man’s lack of decency is on her.

I wonder if she thought it of me, too, in that alley.

“So, then…” she clears her throat awkwardly. “Coffee?”

I’m tempted to say yes. So, so fucking tempted.

Because the truth is, Mia’s vulnerable right now. She doesn’t want to be alone. She wants someone to touch her in all the right ways, to chase Ieronim’s grimy hands out of her memory. Replace the experience with something better.

I could give her that.

I could give her the best.

“No.”

She looks stricken, but only for a second. “Right,” she mumbles. “Next time, then.”

I don’t say anything to that. I don’t make promises I can’t keep.

And I know, if I climbed up those stairs, I’d end up breaking every promise I’ve ever made to myself.

“Sorry again,” she breathes, all at once. “And… thank you. For saving me.”

Before I can say anything to that, she bolts out of the car and into the night.

Pain explodes in my jaw, snapping me back to the present. A hook, right in the face.

“Damn,” Maksim whistles as I hit the ropes. “You really are off tonight, brother.”

“Shut up.”

“That’s what you get for letting a cute nurse mess with your head, you know. They don’t always make boo-boos better.”

“I said—” I spit a glob of blood on the ground. “ Shut. The. Fuck. Up. ”

Then I jump back in.

The pain is jarring, but welcome. Because Mia Winters has somehow managed what all those other women couldn’t.

She got under my skin.

And I’ve got until our next night together to figure out why.

I decide to stop toying with my opponent. When he bull-rushes in yet again, roaring, sweating, heaving like a fucking wildebeest, I slip his wild uppercut, step to the side, and unload a crisp knockout blow right to the sweet spot on his jaw.

He goes down without so much as an oof.

“Nice save,” Maks grins as I saunter back to my stool. “Almost thought you were gonna blow it.”

I don’t bother replying. I just step out of the ring and walk toward the locker room.

But when I get there, I don’t stop. Hands still taped, knuckles still bloody, I keep striding right out into the night.

The cool night air hits my face. It should be soothing, but all I can think about are Maksim’s warnings.

I hate that he dared say something like that to my face, but what I hate even more is that he might be right. Mia cost me billions in deals, first with Brad and now with Ieronim—and somehow, I still haven’t had enough of her.

I must be on edge. That’s gotta be why. My enemies are closing in, their scent alive and buzzing in the air, and that’s making me restless. It’s making me itch to act.

By the time they come knocking, I have to be ready. Ready to face them, to swing at them and win.

And ready to sacrifice Mia.