6000 days waiting for Melina

chapter 003

KEN’S POV

The city looked smaller from the top floor of my penthouse.

Maybe it was because I owned half of it.

Or maybe it was because after years of blood, power, and building an empire with my bare hands, nothing in Los Angeles impressed me anymore.

Not politicians. Not enemies. Not fear. And definitely not women.

Yet somehow, the woman standing near the glass window of my penthouse managed to make the entire room feel too small.

Melina. Even her name still sounded the same.

Dangerous to my peace. I stood near the bar, slowly pouring whiskey into a crystal glass while watching her silently.

She looked calmer now compared to the terrified woman from the gala, but I knew better. Fear still lived inside her eyes. She just hid it well.

Too well for someone only nineteen. “What exactly makes you think I should help you?” I asked finally.

She turned toward me slowly.

The city lights reflected against her black dress, softening nothing about her. She still looked sharp. Careful and ready to run at any second.

“Because they want me dead,” she answered quietly.

I took a slow sip from my glass. “That doesn’t explain why you’re connected to Club Seven.”

At the mention of the name, something flickered across her face. It was pain. Interesting. “They killed my father,” she said.

“And?”

“And now they want me gone too.” I stared at her for a long moment. Club Seven. The very men I had spent years trying to destroy.

Ghosts hiding behind wealth, politics, and legitimate businesses while running some of the dirtiest operations in the country.

Trafficking, distribution of weapons, people's disappearances and executions disguised as accidents. I knew exactly who they were.

And now the daughter of one of those men was standing inside my penthouse asking for protection.

“You expect me to believe you’re innocent?” I asked coldly.

“I never said I was innocent.” The answer surprised me. Most people lied to survive. She didn’t.

Her fingers curled tightly against her sides before she stepped closer carefully. “But if I was truly working with them,” she continued quietly, “they wouldn’t be trying to kill me.”

That part was true. Club Seven erased liabilities permanently. And judging from the number of assassins tonight, Melina had become a very dangerous liability.

I set my glass down slowly. “You still haven’t told me what exactly you know.”

Her gaze dropped briefly. “Enough to destroy them.”

Silence stretched between us. Outside, the city glittered beneath the dark sky while tension thickened inside the room.

Then suddenly, she stepped closer again. Too close. “You said you could have any woman you wanted,” she said softly.

I didn’t answer. Her fingers slowly touched my tie before sliding lower against my chest. “But I’m still offering myself anyway.”

My jaw tightened instantly. There it was again. That desperation that was buried beneath confidence. That willingness to sacrifice pieces of herself just to survive.

And for some reason, it pissed me off more than it should have. “You think this is how you earn protection?” I asked quietly.

Her expression barely changed, but I noticed the hurt hidden underneath it. “I think men always want something.” The answer hit harder than expected.

For a second, I didn’t see the woman standing in front of me anymore. I saw a little girl with fearless eyes standing inside my childhood home nineteen years ago.

A little girl who had looked directly at me and boldly told me exactly what she wanted me to do someday.

The memory hit so suddenly that my chest tightened. Back then, she smiled too easily. Back then, her eyes had still been innocent.

Now? Now she looked like someone the world had chewed apart and forced back together badly. And the worst part was that she didn’t even recognize me.

Of course she didn’t. She was too young then. But I remembered everything. Every single thing. Including the promise she probably forgot the moment she left for London.

I had never forgotten it. Not once. My gaze stayed fixed on her while she slowly slipped the thin straps of her dress down her shoulders.

I should have stopped her. Instead, I stood there watching.

Watching the woman I had spent years searching for offer herself to me like she believed her body was the only thing valuable enough to trade.

Something dark twisted violently inside my chest. Anger. Not at her but at whoever taught her survival looked like this.

The dress slid lower until it pooled around her feet.

She stood there vulnerable yet strangely unafraid, her breathing uneven but controlled.

“You don’t have to do this,” I said finally. For the first time that night, her mask cracked completely.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I do.”

No. She really didn’t.

Because even if she walked into my penthouse wearing blood instead of silk tonight, I still would have protected her.

She just didn’t know that yet. My restraint snapped the moment she reached for me again. I grabbed her waist roughly and pulled her against me hard enough to steal her breath.

A soft gasp escaped her lips as my mouth crashed against hers. The kiss was nothing close to gentle.

It was years of obsession, frustration, and wanting poured into one moment.

Mine. The thought hit me instantly and violently. Mine.

I pushed her backward until her body hit the wall softly while my hands gripped her thighs, lifting her effortlessly against me.

She kissed me back immediately, desperate and hungry like she was trying to forget fear itself. And God help me, I let her. Because this was Melina.

The only woman I had ever truly wanted. The only ghost that followed me through every success, every woman, every empty night.

I carried her toward the bedroom without breaking the kiss once.

The moment her back touched the sheets, she looked up at me with those same dangerous eyes that used to haunt my memories.

Only now they carried exhaustion too. Pain. Loneliness. I stripped my shirt off impatiently while she watched me silently.

Then I climbed over her slowly. For one second, I simply stared down at her. Nineteen years. Nineteen f*****g years.

And somehow she still ended up beneath me exactly where I always imagined. “You should stop looking at me like that,” she whispered shakily.

“Like what?”

“Like I matter.” The words nearly destroyed my self-control completely. I grabbed her jaw gently, forcing her to hold my gaze.

“You have no idea,” I said quietly. Then I kissed her again. This time slower. Deeper. Like I wanted to memorize every sound she made.

Her fingers tangled in my hair while I moved over her body carefully, learning her reactions, the soft gasps she tried to hide, the trembling she couldn’t control.

And even while she gave herself to me willingly, anger still burned inside my chest. Because she shouldn’t have felt like she needed to trade herself for safety.

Because somewhere along the line, the world convinced her survival only came through sacrifice. I hated it. But I still couldn’t stop touching her. Couldn’t stop wanting her.

The moment I felt her heat against my skin, the years of waiting evaporated into a singular, violent need. She was trembling, but she wasn't pulling away.

She was clutching at me like I was the only solid thing in a world trying to swallow her whole.

I moved down her body, my tongue trailing a path of fire over her skin until I was between her thighs. She smelled like expensive perfume and something primal, something that belonged only to her.

"You smell f*****g incredible," I growled, my voice vibrating against her inner thigh.

When my mouth found her heat, she let out a strangled cry that echoed off the penthouse glass. I swiped my tongue over her c**t, tasting her, devouring her.

She arched her back, her fingers locking into my hair with a desperate strength. "Ken... please," she sobbed out, her hips stuttering upward, seeking more of the friction. "I can't—please don't stop."

The desperation in her voice nearly broke me. She wasn't just asking for pleasure; she was asking to feel alive.

I sucked her deep into my mouth, my thumb working in rhythm, until she was shaking so hard I had to grip her hips to keep her still.

I stripped out of my slacks, my heart hammering

against my ribs like a caged animal. When I positioned myself at her entrance, I paused.

She looked up at me, her eyes clouded with a mix of lust and a deep, aching loneliness. "Look at me," I commanded.

She obeyed, her pupils blown wide. I pushed inside her slowly, and my breath hitched. She was narrow, impossibly small.

"God, Melina," I hissed through gritted teeth, my muscles locking as I hit her resistance. "You’re so tight. It’s like you were made specifically to ruin me."

A broken moan escaped her as she wrapped her legs around my waist, pulling me deeper, forcing me to fill the space she’d kept guarded for so long.

"I don't want to think," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Just make me forget. Make me yours."

"You were already mine," I told her, the words a vow as I began to move.

I hammered into her, each thrust a claim, each sound she made a victory. The room felt like it was burning. I watched her face, the way her eyes fluttered shut, the way her lips parted as she chased the peak.

She was clinging to me, her nails drawing blood on my shoulders, her breath hitching in time with my movements.

Everything about her was a drug. The way she felt wrapped around me, the way she whispered my name like a prayer she didn't think would be answered.

As the tension coiled toward the breaking point, I leaned down, my mouth inches from her ear. "I'm never letting you go. Do you hear me? You’re staying right here."

She didn't answer with words. She answered by shattering beneath me, her body clenching around mine so intensely I lost my own grip on reality.

I followed her into the dark, pouring every ounce of my obsession into her, marking her in a way that no one, not Club Seven, not the past, could ever erase.