The jet is sleek and ck, waiting on the tarmac like a predator in a suit. Looks like it has something inmon with its owner.


    Konstantin’s hand grazes mine as he silently takes my suitcase, the brush of skin sending a current through me. I climb the steps with his presence right behind me, heat prickling down my spine. There’s a sound—low, primal—and I can’t tell if it’s him or the jet growling to life beneath us.


    Once I step into the cabin, I’m surrounded by pure luxury.


    A bright-eyed blonde in a tailored uniform greets us at the top of the steps with a practiced smile. “Wee, Mr. Marinov. Ms. Monroe. May I get you two anything to drink?”


    Before I can answer, Konstantin’s voice slides in, smooth and razor-sharp. “I’ll take care of her.”


    He presses up behind me, his hand resting lightly, yet possessively against my hip like he’s staking a im. A rush of heat radiates through my chest, furious and unwanted.


    I’m not his. I never will be. But my body hasn’t gotten the memo.


    Not when his palm lingers a second too long. Not when his lips are so close to my ear, I feel the brush of his breath.


    “Take a seat,” he demands.


    And suddenly, I’m not sure if the tightness in my chest is nerves…or anticipation of what’s toe.


    The scars on my arms throb, like they want to remind me that he knows my secrets, the ones I never talk about. I hate that he does, that he forced me to give him something I wasn’t ready to, but it doesn’t change anything between us.


    I slide into one of the white leather seats, crossing my legs and meeting his gaze with the kind of calm I don’t quite feel. It’s a challenge. A performance. Like I belong here. Like his world was always meant to be mine.


    His mouth lifts slightly, and there’s something in his eyes that sharpens. Something that says he sees more than I want him to.


    Then I stupidly wonder again if anyone’s ever loved him. Truly loved him. Would someone miss him if he disappeared? Cry for him? Ache for him like he was worth mourning?


    Would anyone miss me?


    Sure, Nate would. Gerardo and Fiona too. Maybe even Riley. But that’s not what I mean. I want someone to miss me like their world’s been ripped apart. I want to be remembered so deeply it ruins them.


    I’ll never have that, will I?


    I drag in a long breath. Is this what happens when someone’s starved for affection? They start craving it from the most dangerous people?


    But falling in love, having a family of my own, is absolutely not in the cards for me. I’m far too messed up for that. With the kind of mother I had for a role model, I’d be a disaster.


    A bitterugh scrapes the back of my throat. Guess therapy’s been working better than I thought. At least I can recognize how fucked up I am.


    “What’s so amusing?” His voice slices through my thoughts, dragging me out of the spiral.


    He stands at the minibar, pouring himself a drink. His eyes lift, catching mine across the cabin. The moment our gazes collide, it’s like he’smanding me in ce without even touching me.


    “Nothing.” I push my hair away from my face and sit straighter.


    His smile curves, slow and knowing, like he can read the lie right through me. “You drink coffee?”


    Only when I’m being seduced by a Bratva kingpin.


    “Not usually. But I’ll have one. Ssh of cream, one sugar.”


    He lets out a low chuckle, rich and smooth, the sound curling through me like a thick vine. As he pours from one of the silver pitchers, the scent hits me first: rich, bitter, and far too inviting. With both drinks in hand, he turns and settles beside me, closer than necessary, and offers me my cup.


    Our fingers brush, barely a graze, but it sparks something low and hot inside me, undoing the control I’ve been clutching to like a lifeline. His eyestch on to mine, and I swear he can feel the shift inside me.


    I bring the cup to my lips, desperate for a distraction. The warmth of the coffee grounds me, the bitter strength of it anchoring me just enough to pretend I’m unaffected.


    But it still tastes like him. Dangerous. Addictive. Impossible to ignore.


    He continues to watch, like he’s trying to memorize the way I react to every little thing.


    The seatbelt sign dings softly overhead, and within minutes, the jet lifts into the sky with barely a tremor. I force a slow breath through my nose, keeping my postureposed while lowering my mug.


    Nothing bad is going to happen. It’s just a trip. He’s not taking me somewhere to kill me.


    Well, at least I hope not…


    But to be on the safe side, I sent messages to both Riley and Gerardo before I left. If anything happens, they’ll know where to look.


    “Rx, Ms. Monroe.” His palm, warm and heavy, settles on my thigh like it belongs there. “Are you nervous?” Thick fingers cinch around my flesh. “If so, I have a few ways I can help.”


    “I’m sure you do.” I soundposed, but my body is a traitor, a pulsing need unfurling from the weight of his touch.


    I nce down at his hand, broad and possessive, and silently thank myself for not wearing a dress. Or maybe curse myself. It’s hard to tell the difference right now.


    He shifts slightly, angling toward me with an ease that feels more like a stalk than a gesture. “It’s a short flight. We’ll be in Chicago soon. You’ll sit in on the meeting, take notes. And after that…” His eyes glint. “The evening is ours.”


    I should ask what that means. What his version of “ours” includes. But the words catch in my throat when his gaze drops to my mouth, remaining there like he’s already tasted it.


    Then slowly, his thumb sweeps across my lower lip.


    Awareness ignites within me. The move is both intimate and greedy. Like he’s iming space he hasn’t earned, but fully intends to take.


    “Just enjoy yourself,” he murmurs. “Don’t fight it so hard. It’s not good for you.”


    “And you know what’s good for me?” I try toe off indifferent, but his fingers grip my thigh tighter, and suddenly the silence between us thickens, humming with something unspoken.


    “Of course I do. I know everything.”


    I should pull back. Say something sharp and deflect. But I don’t move. I stay perfectly still, every nerve lit up as his mouth hovers over mine, close enough that one breath would erase the space between us.


    The ne suddenly jolts, a sharp burst of turbulence throwing me off-bnce, and I surge forward.


    His arms are around me in an instant—steady, firm, anchoring me like he’s done it a hundred times before.


    But it’s not the strength of his grip that undoes me. It’s the way he’s looking at me. Like I’m his.


    “You alright, katyonak?” The affection in his tone hits me hard as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear.


    Kitten. That damn word again. I looked it up thest time he said it. I told myself I hated it…but something about the way he says it makes my chest hit with a twinge.


    “I’m fine.” I shift slightly, putting space between us as I reach for my coffee, but it does nothing to douse the wildfire burning under my skin.


    I shouldn’t want him. It’s a betrayal to everything I took an oath to stand against.


    But the truth is, I can’t deny the way he makes me feel.


    And the scariest part? I’m starting to think I don’t want to.<hr>


    KONSTANTIN


    The elevator opens directly into the penthouse suite of the hotel, perched on the top floor with unobstructed skyline views. The space exudes sophistication: dark marble floors, ck velvet ents, and gold-trimmed furniture.


    But none of itpares to the woman stepping in beside me. Strong. Mysterious. Inescapably alluring. And apparently, she’s exactly what I’m looking for. Or so my heart tells me.


    Life is a funny thing. One second, I was fine being alone. Then she appeared, and suddenly, I could see it: waking up beside her, fighting for something more than vengeance and blood.


    But love in my world? It’s no different than death. It costs you. Destroys you.


    And if I imed her, truly imed her, things wouldn’t get easier. They’d get worse.


    Still, I’ve never been one to flinch from fire.


    And Tessa Monroe? She’s the most dangerous me I’ve ever touched.


    Her heels click against the floor as she walks in, her eyes taking in the space with a mix of awe and apprehension.


    She doesn’t trust me. She’s smart not to.


    But that doesn’t stop her eyes from drifting to me when she thinks I’m not looking. And I witness the battle within her. Like she’s despising herself for wanting something she knows is wrong.


    But I see it. I see everything. That flicker of hunger she tries to bury beneath all that stubborn resolve.


    She wants me. Maybe not with her mind, but her body knows what’s good for her.


    That’s the unfortunate thing about attraction. It’s primal. Uncontroble. It doesn’t ask for permission. And no matter how hard you fight it, once it takes hold, it drags you under.


    My attention zeroes in on her, those tailored dress pants clinging to her curves like they were stitched with my hands in mind, just begging to be stripped off. But now isn’t the time to imagine all the ways I’ll have her on her knees. That will have to wait.


    “Where’s my bedroom?”


    I gesture toward the narrow corridor with a flick of my wrist, while my men roll in our luggage. “Let me show you.”


    She follows close behind, but the second I open the door, she brushes past me like she can’t wait to get rid of me. Iugh to myself at the absurdity of it.


    “Thanks. You can go now.” She pops an irritated brow.


    I step in further, my finger trailing up the bare skin of her arm. “I would…” My lips twist. “But that’s going to be difficult…since this is my bedroom too.”


    She stops cold, her eyes popping wide. “I’m sorry, what?”


    I move in closer, our bodies aligned like puzzle pieces meant to break, my fingers curling around her nape with just enough pressure to remind her who’s in control. Her lips part, pupils ring in response.


    “Don’t worry, this bed’s big enough for the both of us. Though thest thing you’ll want is to get away from me, I promise.” With my other hand, I brush her cheek with my knuckles, enjoying the feeling of her soft skin too much.


    It’s like I can’t stop touching her, like I’m a desperate man. She tries to mask the way I affect her, but the goose bumps racing across her skin speak the truth she refuses to voice.


    “There’s absolutely no way I’m sleeping in the same bed as you. You’re my boss, and I’m your assistant. That’s all this is, and that’s all it’ll ever be.”


    Iugh, low and dark, before grabbing a fistful of her hair and tugging her head back until her chest heaves.


    “That’s exactly what you are. My assistant. Mine tomand. So when I say we’re sharing a bed, that’s exactly what will happen. And if you don’t like it?” I lower my pitch to a dangerous whisper. “The door’s right there. Walk through it and lose the job you were begging me for. The choice is yours.”


    She grits her teeth, her body coiling with her displeasure.


    “Fine.” The word might as well be a curse with the way she said it.


    I chuckle to myself. Of course she’d give in. What choice does she have?


    When I loosen my grip, I savor the pink flush on her cheeks, the way her lips stay parted like she’s still catching up.


    “Good girl.” A smirk pulls at my mouth. “I knew you’d see reason.”


    She exhales hard, a sound closer to a snarl than augh.


    “It’s for your own safety. I have enemies. They wouldn’t hesitate to use you to get to me.”


    “So this is for my benefit, huh?” Sarcasm drips from every word as she res like she’s not sure whether she wants to p me or drag me closer.


    I’d wee either.


    “Of course. Everything I do is for your benefit.” My gaze trails down the length of her body, and I can’t help invading her space again, both hands gripping her hips and dragging her flush to me. “But if you want theplete truth, I want you in my bed. I want to feel your bare skin on mine. I want to own every sound you make. Every look. Every damn heartbeat. You’re so far under my skin, I’m bleeding for it.”


    The smallest shift gives her away. A twitch in her jaw. Her spine straightens like a de, and I know she feels this. Every inch of her is on edge, and I like knowing that it’s because of me.


    Her defiance flickers behind those fierce, firelit eyes, but it’s starting to crack. Because this thing between us? It’s stronger than her resistance. It’s hunger in the form of a slow, unraveling surrender, and she’s starting to realize it too.


    I don’t want to want her. It’d be so much simpler if this was just about sex. But I can’t escape this. I don’t even want to. And that’s a deadly recipe for the both of us.


    I step back, undoing the cuffs of my shirt one by one, and she turns her back to me almost too quickly, like I can’t see through the paper-thin armor she’s wrapped herself in.


    I want to break through it. Shatter every piece of control she’s gripping to.


    “Look at me,” I demand.


    She doesn’t move. So predictable.


    “I said look at me.” My tone sharpens, daring her to disobey.


    Slowly, she turns, her chin high, breaths shallow. Every inch of her is tight with tension, ire…and need. I see it all. She can’t hide from me.


    “Come closer.” I beckon her with a finger, wishing she was naked with a cor and leash around her neck.


    The image in my mind is so vivid I can taste it. Her crawling to me like the good girl I know she’ll be.


    Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. “What do you want?”


    Every muscle in my body twists. I want her hands on me. I want her surrender.


    “Take off my belt.”


    She freezes. “Excuse me?”


    “You heard me.” I take a step forward, erasing thest breath of space between us. My voice dips to a warning. “Take. Off. My. Belt.”


    Her eyes thin, that fire ring. “I’m not your servant.”


    “No…” The heat between us practically vibrates. My hand feathers against her hip, deliberately slow. “You’re not. But you are mine. I own you, Ms. Monroe. Now do as you’re told and take off my belt.”


    A beat of silence passes. Then, with our eyes locked, her hands rise. And with disdain written all over her features, she finds the buckle and starts to unfasten it. Not because she’s obedient. Because she wants me to know she can y this game and still stay in control.


    She tugs the leather free with a smooth pull, and I see it in her eyes: Ms. Monroe is just as addicted as I am.


    And I haven’t even touched her yet.


    I take the belt from her hands, slipping it behind her neck and pulling her in. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”


    Her smile is fiery as her fingertips graze my abdomen, igniting the very core of me. She begins undoing the button of my trousers before dragging the zipper down, then lowers my pants until they’re pooling around my ankles. I step out of them, my cock straining beneath my boxers, and I know she sees it.


    Her pupils widen, face flushed. Her hands hover over my biceps, like her body begs to hold on to me for dear life.


    “You’re not done yet. The shirt too.” I drop the belt onto the floor, wanting to tie her to the bed and use it on her perfect skin instead.


    She’d never need to hurt herself again, not when I could give her everything she’s searching for. Every high. Every low. Every desperate ache. I’d be the one to give it and take it away.


    When she bites her lip, I find the war inside her. She craves this with the same intensity that she resents it.


    But the heart is a selfish thing. It doesn’t weigh logic or fear. It goes after whatever it desires. And resistance only sharpens the hunger.


    Her hands slide up my chest, fingers working each button with deliberate slowness until my shirt parts and she pushes it from my shoulders. Those eyes sp to mine like a challenge that I willingly ept.


    I watch her face the entire time. Watch the way her breath falters, how her gaze drinks me in even as she tries to stayposed.


    I lean in, my mouth grazing her ear. “You have no idea how much I enjoy your hands on me.”


    And how much I wish I didn’t.


    Before she can respond, I step back, walking off to grab fresh clothes from my suitcase.


    When I turn around, I find her rushing into the bathroom. The soft click of the lock fills the air; my lips twitch into a grin.


    Run all you want, katyonak. But no matter how hard you try, you’ll never get away from me.