Page 37 of Wicked Union

“There’s nothing to tell.” Grace flicked her long, blonde hair over her right shoulder. “I don’t remember anything exciting happening. Your secret is safe with us, Cole.”

She made it so hard.

How could I not want her?

Grace strolled over to me, a sexy smile tugging at her lips. She could light up a room with that smile. And as she stopped in front of me, my heart beat faster. After what we did together, we could never return to being just friends.

She put her hand on my bare chest since my shirt was tucked in my back pocket, stained with our cum. Thankfully, I wasn’t the only shirtless man on the boardwalk, so I didn’t look like an asshole.

She wet her lips with her tongue. “Come to my room tonight.”

“Grace,” I whispered, hating what I had to say next. “What we did…” I shook my head and sighed. “We shouldn’t have done that.”

Her smile quickly transformed into a frown. “If you don’t show up tonight, let me go. Don’t try to stop me from finishing the list.”

“The list was a stupid idea. I shouldn’t have suggested it.”

She shrugged, sliding her hand off my chest. “It’s too late. I’m completing it with or without you. But I would rather it be you that takes my virginity.”

I wanted that, too.

More than anything.

Rhys whistled, interrupting our conversation. “Marshall, get over here and help me with the food.”

I looked at Grace once more, then rushed to the counter to grab her soda and funnel cake. She picked at the cake, giving me a sultry look as she stuffed a piece into her mouth. Grace wasn’t the sweet, innocent girl who came to my house at the start of the summer.

Rhys tainted her.

I shoved the hot dog in my mouth as we walked the boardwalk and headed to the parking lot. I was angry with myself for being human and letting that idiot play Truth or Dare.

Years of competing with Rhys created a lot of bad blood between us. He liked to play games, and we both wanted to win. It was a recipe for disaster when you put us together. Neither of us would concede to the other. And I wouldn’t look like a pussy in front of Grace.

Because you’re an idiot.

As we stepped off the boardwalk, I spotted two men I recognized on our way to the parking lot. They lounged against the wall, both tall and smoking cigarettes. They stood beneath a lamppost, the golden glow shining a light on them.

“Fuck,” I whispered, throwing my arms out in front of them. “Don’t move.”

They would see us if we were to walk a few more inches into the light. The Russian men who worked for Grace’s uncle could have easily gotten to us on the boardwalk. Andrey Romanov was a high-ranking member of the Volkov Bratva. Grace’s grandfather was also part of the Russian Mafia before his death.

Her father was the only Romanov not to join the Mafia. Instead, he became a KGB operative, which was how he met Grace’s mother. He supposedly changed for Grace and her mom, giving up his family’s legacy. But after he fled imprisonment on Skull Island, he became even more sinister than his family.

He was a terrorist and number one on every Most Wanted list worldwide.

“Cole, you’re scaring me,” Grace whispered.

Rhys leaned over and whispered, “What is going on, Marshall?”

I inched backward so we could hide from their view under the boardwalk. “Do you see those men standing near the parking lot?”

Rhys nodded. “Who are they?”

“Volkov Bratva.”

Grace gasped, clinging to my arm, her tremors shaking through me. “Russian Mafia?”

“Yes,” I said at the same time as Rhys.

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