Page 46 of Stolen Seconds

“Well, congratulations, you two.” I clapped my hands, walking backward. “I’ll be sure he follows in my footsteps.” I winked at Roman and slipped away before he shot me in the head.

He was an easy person to rile up, especially when it came to the ones he loved—which was a limited number.

The opening I’d been waiting for all night happened when my favorite Russian walked out of the ballroom.

I glanced at my surroundings to make sure no one saw before following her.

Irina walked down the corridor and up the grand staircase, the party sounding farther away.

My little rebel had no idea she led herself into my trap.

As she walked confidently down the hall, I picked up speed before I closed in on her.

With one hand at the base of her neck and the other wrapped around her mouth, I pushed her back against the wall.

She grunted from the impact; her breath warm against my palm.

“Running off somewhere, sweetheart?”

Her blue eyes narrowed in response as she looked to the side, unwilling to my meet my gaze.

“Why are you avoiding me?”

Her teeth clamped down on my finger and I hummed in satisfaction at her malevolence. It fed my tainted soul.

“Is that what you’re into?” I let go of her mouth and trailed my hand down her delicate throat, gripping it. “You like it rough, Irina?”

Her pulse thumped against the pad of my thumb in a fast and rhythmic pace. I grinned, relishing in the effect I had on her.

“Get over yourself,” she spat out. “You’d have to be someone of importance to have that type of control over me.”

I rubbed my thumb up and down her skin, feeling it warm up. “Then give me your eyes, Irina.Lookat me.”

She continued staring to the side, so hellbent on disobeying me. I knew if I wanted to, I could force her, but where would be the fun in that?

“Let me see you. . . unless you’re scared.”

Her head whipped fast at that, her eyes burning into me with intensity. “There.” She leaned in. “Happy?”

I pulled her to me by the throat. “Not one bit.”

She searched my eyes, the tension closing in on us, stretching so thin, it would inevitably snap.

“How unfortunate for you that I don’t care.”

“A viperous tongue I long to taste even in my dreams,” I rasped. “I will have you, Irina. One way or another.”

“Leave me alone, Luca,” she whispered, a strain in her voice.

“I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t? Idon’twant you.”

“You’ll learn to want me.”

“You’re a psychopath.”

“Yes.” The tension snapped as I crushed my mouth to hers because not kissing her was as painful as her convincing herself she didn’t want me.

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