His grip shifts—one hand still anchoring me, the other dragging slowly, possessively up the side of my thigh, under my dress, like he’s reacquainting himself with a territory he never relinquished.
“You really think I don’t know what you’re doing?” he rasps into my ear, voice like gravel dragged across silk.
I gasp, legs trembling around his hips. “P-please…”
The word slips out, soft and strangled, and I hate how easily it falls from my lips.
But he hears the surrender in it.
His fingers trail up my throat, linger there. A possessive touch. A warning.
“You’re begging to be punished,” he breathes, lips brushing my jaw. “Tell me,lisichka…which part of you should pay first?”
Every nerve screams.
His presence overwhelms. The scent of him—clean and dark, all sharp spice and command—wraps around me. My gaze flicks to the drawer.
The lockbox.
The ledgers.
What I came for.
So close, and yet impossibly out of reach. He knows. Of course he knows. Maybe he’s known from the start.
This wasn’t a stumble.
It was a setup.
A trap lined with silk and sin, and I walked into it like the fool he thinks I am.
Still, I can’t stop. Won’t stop.
Because whatever this is—violence, addiction, vengeance—it’s the only thing I have left.
“Anything you want,” I whisper, broken and breathless, already arching into him.
And even as I give in, even as my body sings for him, one thought claws its way to the surface:
This might be the most dangerous transaction in that entire ledger.
And I just signed it in blood.
Chapter 7
The Fall Begins Here
Vasiliyi
One touch.
That’s all it takes to make the cracks in my control splinter wide.
Her fingers graze the line of my chest, tracing the edge of my tie. My blood answers instantly, heat roaring through me in a pulse that drowns out thought. Every lesson in restraint I ever learned—on the battlefield, behind bars, in rooms where weakness meant death—vanishes.
She’s my undoing. Not with a scream. Not with a betrayal.
But with a goddamn whisper.