Page 24 of The Russian's Innocent Prey
You should have told me you were a virgin.
The memory of his words sent a fresh wave of humiliation through me. As if my inexperience was some kind of characterflaw I should have disclosed upfront, like a medical condition or criminal record. As if giving him something no other man had ever touched somehow made me deficient rather than precious.
I’d always imagined my first time would be different. Softer, maybe. With someone who loved me, someone who would treat the moment like the gift it was supposed to be. Instead, it had been desperate and consuming, marked by grief and hunger rather than tenderness. And while my body had responded to his touch with an enthusiasm that still made me blush, my heart had been left confused and aching.
Because despite everything—despite his coldness this morning and his deliberate distance—I couldn’t regret it. Couldn’t bring myself to truly believe it had been a mistake, even though I’d thrown those words at him like weapons.
“Anya?” Sasha’s voice pulled me back to the present. “Are you alright? You’ve been staring at that contract for five minutes.”
I blinked and looked down to see my pen hovering over a signature line, my hand frozen in indecision. “Sorry. Just tired.”
She studied my face with the kind of gentle concern that made me want to confess everything—the years of wanting someone I couldn’t have, the night that had changed everything, the devastating realization that I’d fallen for a man who saw me as nothing more than a momentary lapse in judgment.
Instead, I signed the contract and moved on to the next document.
We worked in comfortable silence for the next hour, the familiar rhythm of business helping to settle some of the chaos in my head. By the time we finished with the permits and approvals, I almost felt human again.
“I should get these to the office,” Sasha said, gathering the completed paperwork into a neat stack. “Traffic’s going to be murder if I wait much longer.”
I glanced at the clock and realized it was already past three. The day had slipped away while I’d been lost in work and memories, and I felt a pang of guilt for keeping Sasha so late.
“Take my car,” I said, reaching into my desk drawer for the keys to my Audi. “Your Toyota’s been acting up again, hasn’t it?”
She hesitated, clearly torn between accepting the offer and maintaining professional boundaries. “Are you sure? I know how you feel about other people driving your baby.”
I managed a small smile, the first genuine one I’d felt all day. Sasha was one of the few people who understood my attachment to material things, the way I used possessions to create stability in a world that felt increasingly unpredictable.
“I’m sure. Just promise me you won’t let Drew drive it.”
At the mention of my unwanted bodyguard, Sasha’s expression grew curious. “Drew? The new guy from Russia? What’s he doing here?”
I realized I’d never explained the security situation to her, had been too wrapped up in my own emotional turmoil to think about how my circumstances affected the people around me. “Long story. Maxim’s being overprotective, and Lev assigned Drew to babysit me until further notice.”
Something flickered in Sasha’s eyes—concern, maybe, or recognition that there was more to the story than I was telling. But she simply nodded and accepted the keys, her discretion one of the many reasons I trusted her completely.
“I’ll have Drew drop me off on his way,” I added, walking her to the front door. “The exercise will do me good.”
We stepped outside together, and I immediately spotted Drew leaning against his black sedan with the kind of casual alertness that marked him as a professional. He straightened when he saw us approaching, his pale eyes scanning the area with automatic thoroughness.
“Change of plans,” I announced before he could protest. “Sasha needs to get to the office, and her car won’t start. You’re going to escort her there and back.”
Drew’s expression didn’t change, but I caught the slight tightening around his eyes that suggested he wasn’t pleased with the deviation from whatever orders Lev had given him.
“Mr. Antonov was very specific about not leaving you alone,” he said carefully.
“I’m not leaving the property. I’ll be perfectly safe behind locked gates and a security system that could probably repel a small army.” I crossed my arms and gave him the kind of look that had been making grown men reconsider their life choices since I was twelve years old. “Unless you think a twenty-minute round trip is going to result in some kind of catastrophic security breach?”
For a moment, I thought he might argue. His jaw worked silently as he weighed his options, clearly torn between following orders and recognizing the logical flaw in those orders. Finally, he gave a curt nod.
“Twenty minutes,” he said firmly. “If you don’t answer your phone when I call, I’m coming back here with reinforcements.”
I waved him off with false cheer, watching as he held the passenger door open for Sasha with old-world courtesy that seemed at odds with his dangerous reputation. They pulled out of the driveway in formation—Sasha in my Audi, Drew following closely behind in his sedan—and I was finally, blessedly alone.
The silence that settled over the mansion felt different than usual. Heavier, somehow. Charged with the kind of tension that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I told myself it was just my imagination, a side effect of the stress and emotional upheaval of the past twenty-four hours.
I was wrong.
The first gunshot shattered my living room window, sending glass cascading across the hardwood floors like deadly rain. I dropped to my knees behind the couch, my heart hammering against my ribs as my mind struggled to process what was happening.
