Page 110 of Kings of Violence

I thrust harder, chasing her warmth and the amazing sensationof her inner walls rippling against my cock. I come only seconds later, the urgency and public nature of it all slamming into me.

Fuck.

I stand there, breathing hard, as I come down from the orgasm. Sierra’s small gasping breaths fill the room.

“It’d be funny if we left a giant cum stain on his desk chair,” I say raggedly.

“Don’t you dare,” she says, her voice just as wobbly. “That’s leaving DNA.” She draws in a deep breath. “Fuck. Okay. I need to clean up before I make a mess.”

She squeezes her legs together, going back to the laptop, but her hands are trembling.

“Yeah.” I spot a tissue box on the coffee table by the sofas, and I grab a few to wipe myself. I pass the box to Sierra and finish tucking myself away.

There’s a stack of papers on the coffee table too, a spreadsheet printed with names. The date on it is from a few days ago.

Sierra cleans up and sets the used tissue on the desk table. “We should take these along so there’s no evidence we were ever here.”

“Yeah,” I agree, distracted.

I leaf through the papers, and I realize the names are a guest list. The guest list for tonight’s event.

I get to the V’s, and even scouring all of those names, there’s no Konstantin Voronkov.

Kyran Winters is on the list, though. Silvano Cresci too.

I remember Kotya’s warning, and I look over to Sierra.

“Okay, despite all your attempts to sabotage me, I found the files,” Sierra says. “I’m transferring them now.”

“Sierra…” My voice is completely flat. “When did the invitation arrive for Kotya?”

She blinks at me, looking puzzled until her eyes land on the sheets of paper. Her voice is steady when she says, shrugging, “I don’t know. A few days ago? When I told him about it.” Her eyes, though… Those give her away.

“You told him about it,” I repeat. “You gave him the invitation. But why did you have any mail for him in the first place?” I lookdown at the list. “This is dated a week ago. The RSVP status is already there. Invitations went out long before that.”

“What are you trying to get at here, Yuri?” she asks. “An invitation came in the mail. I gave it to him. Why are you acting like that was so weird?Hedidn’t think so.”

The non-answer is just as telling as if she’d outright told a lie.

“The invitation didn’t arrive by mail.” I take a step closer to her, and I wish I hadn’t just fucked her. “Kotya wasn’t invited at all.”

She set us up.

Don Marino wasn’t setting the trap—Sierra was.

The anger crashes into me, just as strong as when I’d been set up thanks to her.

“You snake,” I growl, reaching out to grab her.

She dodges my grasp.

I expect her to say something, to try to defend herself, but instead, she sprints for the door. I don’t really know how she manages to get ahead of me in those heels, but she gets out of the room before I can grab her.

Like the little rabbit Nikolai sofondlycalls her, she sprints away.

I curse and chase after her, not caring that the door slams loud enough to alert somebody. I chase her down the hall, but she’s gone.

The rage is palpable, making my vision hazy.

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