Page 129 of Stricken

I lean in, our mouths a whisper apart, and I inhale this moment—right before the kiss—the electrical currents running between our bodies. There's absolutely nothing wrong with it.You hear me, Father?There's nothing wrong with feeling so good."Let me worship you," I purr in his ear. "If you want to forget, I can make that happen."

Nico surges forward, capturing my lips in an unexpected, bruising kiss. I pull him to me, trying to fill every bit of space around me with him, as much of him as I can.

His fingers find the buttons of my shirt, undoing them with practiced ease like we've done this before a hundred times. I shrug out of the garment, not breaking the kiss for a moment. Nico's hands roam over my chest, setting my skin ablaze.

I walk him backward until his legs hit the couch. We tumble down onto the cushions. Nico looks up at me, hair mussed and lips swollen, desire burning in his gaze. "You were always so good at distracting me from reality."

"I didn't hear you complaining then. You better not start complaining now," I husk against his neck.

"Who said I'm complaining." He laughs gently, arching beneath me and grinding his hips against mine in a wordless plea.

I make quick work of his jeans, tugging them down his lean legs and tossing them aside. Nico's hand slips into my pants, finding my cock and stroking it with purpose.

Pleasure sparks through my veins like lightning, and I groan. "Keep that up and this will be over far too soon,detka."

"Then we can do it all over again."

And for these next few hours, as the rain lashes against the windows, all that exists is Nico. And I worship every inch of his body, show him just how deeply he has branded himself onto my very soul.

I let myself believe that we can have this. That somehow, someway, this connection we share will be enough.

Even if I know, deep down, that it's the most dangerous lie of all.

* * *

The morning sun filters through the rain-streaked windows of my car as Ivan navigates the hectic city streets. My mind is still clouded with memories of the previous night—Nico's heated skin against mine, the taste of his lips, the way he shuddered and gasped my name as I brought him to the brink of ecstasy again and again.

But reality has a way of intruding, and today's errands demand my attention. Meetings with suppliers, builders, and real estate agents fill my schedule, each one a carefully orchestrated move in the ever-shifting chess game of power and control in this city.

As we pull into the parking lot of the real estate office for my next appointment, a black limo suddenly blocks our path. Ivan's posture stiffens. I catch his eyes in the mirror as they narrow at the vehicle, assessing the potential threat.

Neither car moves after a few moments tick by.

"What is this, Ivan?" I ask.

He honks, then grunts out without turning to me, "Stay here. I'll check it out."

I nod, watching as Ivan climbs out of the car and approaches the limo with cautious steps. His hand hovers near the concealed holster at his waist, ready to draw his weapon at a moment's notice.

The back door of the limo swings open, and a man in a crisp black suit emerges. He's tall and broad-shouldered, with a face that betrays nothing. Ivan seemingly exchanges a few terse words with him.

Then Ivan gestures for the man to follow him back to my vehicle. Unease prickles along my spine as they approach, and I roll down my window, fixing the stranger with an analyzing stare. I don't know him.

"Mr. Solovey," the man greets me, inclining his head slightly. "I have a message from someone who wishes to speak with you. They assure me that they mean you no harm, but they do insist on privacy for this conversation."

I raise an eyebrow, glancing at Ivan. He gives me a barely perceptible tip of his square chin, indicating that he senses no immediate danger. Still, the request is unusual, and my instincts are screaming at me to proceed with caution.

"And who, exactly, is this person who wants to chat?" I ask.

The man's expression remains impassive. "I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say, sir. But I give you my word that you will come to no harm. My employer simply wishes to discuss a matter of great importance with you."

I hesitate, weighing my options. Every fiber of my being rebels against walking into an unknown situation, but something tells me that this isn't a request I can refuse. Not if I want to maintain the upper hand in the deadly game I'm playing.

"Fine," I say at last. "But if this is some kind of trap, I promise you'll regret it."

The man seems unperturbed by my threat. "Like I've mentioned my employer simply wants privacy. Nothing else, Mr. Solovey. Please, follow me."

With a final glance at Ivan, I step out of the car and allow the man to lead me toward the waiting limo. I feel my pulse climbing. Adrenaline rushes through my bloodstream as I prepare myself for whatever lies ahead.

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