I make sure she’s safe, tucked away like something breakable behind glass. I tell myself I’ll never see her again.
But then I saw the little tat on her shoulder I should’ve heeded. It should’ve sent me running, told me to stay away.
Instead, it felt like a brand.
Like she was already mine.
And I knew exactly where we’d met. I clocked the time, made note of it without even meaning to.
Thursday, eight p.m., Wolf and Moon.
Late enough for privacy. Quiet enough that no one would suspect anything. Just enough time between then and the weekend that it wouldn’t draw attention. No reason for anyone to be watching too closely.
I should go back to Ireland.
But I tell myself there’s still work to do here in Russia. Still unfinished business. The Kopolov family fucked us over, and I’m here to make sure it doesn’t happen again.
So I show up. Next Thursday. Eight o’clock sharp. Back at the same place.
A quiet challenge to the universe.
Keep her away from me. Keep her safe.
And a stupid, reckless part of me hopes she comes back.
God, I hope she doesn’t. I hope she knows better. That she listens and stays far the fuck away from me and everything I bring with me.
But that image… her sweet, luscious body, the way her cheek dimples when she smiles, those soft pink lips that look like they were made to whisper secrets into the dark.
Is she a virgin?
Has she ever been with a man?
Not a boy. Aman.
Does she even know the difference?
I could show her.
I clench my jaw, close my eyes, and mutter a curse under my breath.
Fucking hell.
I can’t. I won’t.
And then she’s there.
Like I conjured her with my thoughts.
My sweet little angel, wide-eyed and curious. She meets my gaze across the room, and my breath fucking stalls.
She shouldn’t be here.
Itoldher not to come back.
I narrow my eyes at her in warning.
She should’ve listened. She ought to know better.