Page 161 of Sinful Games

Not yet.

Too fucking fast, Alexsei.

The desire burned hot in my chest, an ache that wouldn’t quit, but I knew better than to rush it. Pushing her too hard would only send her running, and I couldn’t risk that. Not now. Not when I finally had her this close again. I needed to play this smart.

We made our way out of the elevator and toward my condo. I tapped in the code, the lock beeped softly, and the door swung open.

"Welcome to your new home, Caia," I said, gesturing for her to step inside with a sly smile curling my lips.

Let the new game begin.

Chapter

Fifty-Three

“It is always so simple, and so complicating, to accept an apology.”

?Michael Chabon

Alexsei

"Don't mind the... emptiness," I said, the weight of her duffel bag still hanging off my shoulder. "I'm redecorating the place."

Total fucking lie.

I wasn’t redecorating a damn thing. After Volk decided to buy my first condo and hand it over to his precious Sofiya, I bought this place, but I never made it mine. Didn’t want to. Couldn’t. Something in me wouldn’t settle. Not when I still had this hope lodged in my head that one day, Caia would be hereagain.

As we stepped inside, the floor-to-ceiling windows framed the city’s glow, casting a dim light across the wide, white marble floors. Central Park spread out below us, twinkling like some fairytale backdrop. Everything looked pristine—modern kitchen, beige countertops, a huge dark-grey U-shaped couch facing an absurdly massive plasma TV. It was all straight out of a designer's wet dream, but it felt like a hotel room—cold, impersonal. Just how I liked it.

Caia smiled, but there was a faint sigh in it. "Thanks for... having me here."

I nodded and motioned for her to follow me. "Guest room’s down here, private bathroom too. Get comfortable. I'll try to whip us something to eat, and then we can talk about who the hell might still be after you."

Kristian Mankiev. I had no doubt he was still sniffing around.

Her pathetic father didn’t like it when I knocked him on his ass after he tried to guilt-trip Caia into letting him see our son, and she refused. I was dead set on believing he had something to do with Lukyan’s death.

After Caia left me, I paid him a little visit, found him passed out in his shit-stained apartment, drunk and surrounded by garbage. Woke him up with a swift kick to the gut. Bastard swore it wasn’t him who murdered our kid—claimed all he wanted was to meet his grandson, and now that dream was crushed.

He had an alibi though, said he was at one of our casinos the night Lukyan?—

Anyway, I checked the tapes. Sure enough, he lost 160 grand that night. He was broke, depressed and alone.

"Just like old times," Caia whispered as I dropped her bag by the bed, her voice barely cutting through my thoughts.

Nostalgia flickered in her eyes, and for a second, I feltit too.

"Yeah..." I muttered, giving her a tight smile before stepping out of the room. My throat felt like it was closing up, but I couldn’t let her see that.

I poured steaming tomato soup into two bowls, checking on the grilled cheese sandwiches. My fridge was bare, the only survivor being a can of tomato soup. I added a splash of cream and spices, plus some cheese for the sandwiches, whipping up a quick meal that felt perfect for the autumn chill.

As I worked, I heard the shower water stop—Caia was done.

Fuck, I felt as anxious as a kid about to take a test.

Calm down, Alexsei! You’re going to freak her out.

I set the table, pouring her a glass of water with a slice of lemon, just like she liked. For the tenth time, I watched my hands, trying to steady my nerves. Then came three soft knocks. I turned, and there was Caia in the kitchen, her hand dropping from the wall.

---