CHAPTER SIX
1164 Words
DANA
“Dana Monroe?”
He repeated it slowly, carefully, like he was tasting it. And I knew, right there that he had recognized me.
Fuck.
I had blown my cover.
My heart slammed violently against my ribs. I stepped back as he squatted in front of me, his movement controlled, deliberate and predatory. Time for action. This was no longer about shock or memory or whatever tension was burning between us. We weren’t hanging around feelings. Not now. Not here. I needed to move. I needed to be ready.
I had let him do whatever he wanted earlier. I had let my body betray me. But that ended now.
My fingers curled instinctively around the gun hidden beneath my clothes, steadying myself. I avoided his eyes, but he didn’t allow it. His fingers tilted my chin up, forcing my gaze back to his.
“You’re that woman?” he asked, pointing at me.
That woman?
The tremor started deep inside me, spreading outward, shaking my knees, weakening my grip. How could one person do this? How could one voice undo me so completely, steal my breath, disrupt my balance, turn me into something fragile?
“What are you doing here?!” His command cut sharply through the air.
I bit hard on my lower lip. Where would I even begin? And why should I explain anything to him?
“You’re spying on me, aren’t you?” he continued.
I had no choice but to look at him now.
Spy? Where did he get that from?
“Answer me!” His voice rose. “Were you spying on me?”
“No,” I said quickly. “I didn’t—”
“Liar!”
His hand came fast, gripping my jaw before I could even react. Pain shot through me as his fingers tightened. “Don’t you dare lie to me,” he growled. “Who sent you? Say it!”
“How dare you spy on me?” he went on, eyes blazing. “If you knew who I was, you wouldn’t be here!”
“No one sent me,” I said firmly despite the fear crawling up my spine. “And I’m not spying on you.”
Of course he would think that. He was a Petrov. Mafias trusted no one. Everyone was a suspect. Still… the boy I remembered from five years ago wasn’t like this. That boy had been soft, curious, eyes wild with innocent wonder.
What happened to him after that night?
How did that boy turn into this man—cold, sharp, distrustful?
And worse—why did his anger turn me on in ways it absolutely shouldn’t?
Damn it, Dana. I’m in trouble.
“Answer me when I speak to you,” he yelled, raising his palm like he might strike me, “and stop staring at me like that!”
In that moment, I stopped seeing him as a boy entirely.
“I wasn’t spying on you!” I snapped. “I came here to find someone. That’s why I wore a disguise. I wasn’t— I don’t even know—”
Am I really about to tell him everything?
“I don’t even know you,” I said quietly.
I couldn’t spill my life before him. I wouldn’t. I bit down on my lip again, but my answer wasn’t enough. I could see it in his eyes—the hunger to know, to tear the truth out of me.
“Don’t lie,” he said with a slight smirk, studying me. “We both know each other.”
My chest tightened.
“Five years ago, Dana,” he continued. “New Year’s Eve. You kissed me. Don’t tell me you don’t remember.”
So he remembered.
He had thought about the kiss too.
The realization sent a dangerous thrill through me. Heat pooled between my thighs, betraying me. How could something so reckless still have this kind of power?
“I…”
“Who sent you?” His grip returned, harder this time. “Why did you kiss me? Tell me! Or are you going to lie about that too?”
His fingers brushed my hair. I pulled away sharply.
Fuck. Dana!
Was I more turned on by him—or more desperate to escape?
I needed to say something. Something convincing. Something that would make him let me go.
“You forgot about me, didn’t you?” he asked softly.
He stepped closer.
Too close.
So close my thoughts dissolved. Five years of resolve scattered like ash the moment he stood in front of me again. Kyle. Not a kid anymore—but still him. I turned my face away.
His fingers slid through my hair.
Pleasure surged through me before I could stop it.
“I didn’t know you had such beautiful hair,” he whispered against my ear. “How much have you lied to me, Dana?”
I barely stopped myself from moaning.
“I’m not lying—”
He didn’t let me finish.
His lips crashed into mine, his hands gripping my hair, his other hand pressing into my lower back as he pulled me into him. I felt trapped. Consumed. Completely undone.
I had never felt so helpless.
Never felt so hopeless.
Every sense melted in his arms.
I wanted to stop. I really did. But I couldn’t. I had missed this for five years—this feeling, this heat, this pull. My arms went around his neck without permission.
The next moment, I was in his arms completely.
And he was leading me toward the bed.
---
MIKHAIL
Damn it.
She was everything I shouldn’t want. Her body, her breath, her quiet, broken moans—it shattered me. Five years of nothing. Five years of suppression. And she responded to every touch like she had been waiting for this too.
I could forget she was a spy.
I could forget everything.
Father’s warnings echoed somewhere distant, but I pushed them aside. I could think later. Much later. Right now, all I wanted was her beneath me—wanted to finally satisfy the fantasy that had haunted me for five years.
Then my phone rang.
Slow at first. I ignored it.
Her moans were sweeter than sugar. I was pulling her shirt over her head when it rang again. Louder. Desperate. Relentless.
I groaned. What was worse—that I was hard and about to finally have her, or the fact that Anton was calling?
Why now?
I didn’t need a doctor to tell me I had a problem. I had my therapy right here. Dana. And they were ruining it.
“Why do you call?” I growled into the phone.
“Run!!!” Anton screamed.
“What?”
“Run, Mikhail! You’re ambushed! Men are everywhere. They’re searching for you!”
My mind snapped into motion.
Impossible. No one knew I was here.
Except—
I looked at her.
Dana.
The spy.
She had sent them.
- Writer
