ALEXEI.
I stand alone in the conference room for five full minutes before I can move.
My hands are shaking. My legs are weak. And I can still feel the phantom sensation of his fingers inside me, stroking my prostate, taking me apart systematically.
I’ve never felt anything like that in my life.
I clean up as best I can, fix my clothes, check my reflection in the darkened window. I look exactly the same as I did thirty minutes ago.
But I’m not the same.
Something fundamental just shifted.
I make my way back to the gala on unsteady legs. Grab fresh champagne. Smile at board members. Pretend everything is normal.
Across the room, Nikolai is talking to Chief Volgin. He catches my eye, and that smile—smug, satisfied—makes me want to kill him.
Makes me want to drag him back upstairs and
