Page 148 of Twisted Play
My hands shookas I pulled Tristan’s sweatshirt over my head. The burner phone sat, dark and silent, on the dresser where I’d left it after sending Carter what he wanted. My breath hitched. I pressed my palm against my mouth to stifle the sob threatening to tear free. The metallic taste of fear coated my tongue, sharp and bitter.
Behind me, Cole and Tristan slept tangled together in the king bed, their faces peaceful in the moonlight filtering in through the curtains. They’d fucked me until I couldn’t think, then they’d held me, whispering promises they couldn’t keep, stroking my hair like I was precious to them instead of the lying, manipulative spy I actually was, even if it was the only way to save my father’s life.
I needed—fuck, what did I need? Silence. Peace. The turmoil in my mind to quiet.
Fuck.
I slipped my feet into hotel slippers, each step toward the door feeling like a betrayal and as necessary as oxygen. My bare legs felt exposed in the hotel corridor, pajamashorts and an oversized sweatshirt hardly appropriate for wandering the halls after midnight.
I found myself outside Alek’s door, my heart hammering against my ribs. This was insane. Stupid. Reckless. He’d be asleep, and I’d wake him up for what? To tell him I was falling apart? To beg him to make the noise in my head stop for just one fucking hour?
Fucked up, Eva.
I raised my hand anyway, knocking softly on the door. Once. Twice.
When he didn’t answer immediately, I turned to leave, shame turning my cheeks red.
“Malyshka?”
The door opened. Alek was shirtless, silk pajama pants hanging low on his hips, the thick muscles of his stomach and arms making my fingers itch to trace the tattoos scattered across his skin. His dark hair was mussed with sleep, and his voice was scratchy.
“What are you—?” His frown deepened as he took in my appearance. “Are you okay?”
Heat flooded my face.“No, I mean yes, I mean—I’m fine. Sorry to wake you up. Sorry. So sorry.”
The words tumbled out in a rush as I backed away, humiliation making my skin crawl. What was I thinking? That he’d care? That he’d—god, Eva, you’re so fucking stupid. He wants a toy, not a hot mess who wakes him up in the middle of the night to cry all over him.
“Eva, come here.”
His voice cut through my spiraling thoughts, rough with sleep but edged with command. I turned back to find nothing but warmth and concern in his deep brown eyes.
“Now,” he said, gentler but no less firm.
One step. Then another. Then—fuck it. I launched myself into his arms, wrapping mine around his waist as the tears I’d been holding back all night finally broke free.
He swore quietly in Russian, backing us into his room and shutting the door. His arms came around me, solid and sure, holding me together while I split at the seams.
“Baby girl,” he murmured against my hair, “what’s wrong?”
I shook my head against his chest, breathing in his scent—something dark and spicy that made my head spin. “This is stupid.I’mstupid. I should go. You don’t want me here?—”
“The fuck you will.” His arms tightened around me, possessive and protective all at once. “And the fuck I don’t. What’s wrong, Eva?”
Everything. I’m drowning. I’m lost. I need you to tell me what to do because I can’t think anymore. Because I can’t fix this.
But I couldn’t say any of that. Couldn’t tell him about Carter, about the playbook I’d already sent. Couldn’t admit I craved his control more than my next breath.
I burst into tears.
Alek sighed, a sound that rumbled through his chest, and rubbed his hands up and down my back in soothing circles that made the knot in my chest loosen just enough to breathe.
When my sobs finally subsided, he tilted my chin up with one finger, forcing me to meet his gaze. I tried to look away, embarrassed, but he pinched my chin, holding me still.
“Feel better?”
I shrugged, not trusting my voice, better and worse all at once. Better because he was here, solid and real and apparently didn’t mind my breakdown. Worse because this wastemporary, and tomorrow, everything would burn. I was reading too much into his kindness anyway.
After another sigh, he pulled me in for a quick hug then stepped back. His eyes swept over me, taking in my tear-stained face, my trembling hands, the guilt that had to be written all over my expression.
