“Well?”
“Someone kidnapped Diana.”
Her eyes go wide. “One of the clients!?”
I shake my head. “Fedor’s men. They’re hiding her. I’ve been trying to find her. The only one who knows where she might be is Novax.”
That name nearly knocks her off her heels.
“Roran, he works for Fedor. He’ll kill you if he finds out. And Novax won’t stay quiet.”
“I have people here. Please. Help me sneak into his room tonight.”
I’m begging. Literally begging.
She looks like a storm is swirling inside her for a moment, then exhales. “Fine. But not dressed like that. You look like a damn cleaner. Sit.”
She pushes me into her pink leather chair.
“I thought I could take one of your—uh—drops,” I mutter.
She rolls her eyes. “Even if I let you, you wouldn’t get anything out of him looking like this. I’m going to fix you, and then I’ll tell youexactlywhat to do. He’s got a new kink going on. That’s how I took him from Natasha.”
Wait—shewhat? I gasp.
Novaxactuallypicked her over Natasha?
That has to be one hell of a kink if he took Tatiana instead.
“Okay. What do I do?”
She wasn’t in the plan.
But maybe… maybe God did listen.
Malec
I’ve been standing outside that stripper room for at least twenty minutes, and my patience is thinning by the second.
She never told me the full plan—only that she’d get the information once she was inside. And she didn’t lie.
Her soul didn’t change. It’s still too loud, still too shaky for me to read exactly what’s going on in her mind—but it’s hers. And it’s steady.
I’m not budging from my spot, even if I don’t know why I’m bothering to follow her lead in the first place.
But if I can get what I need fast and hit the Red Dock without starting a war over a stupid club, I guess I’ll stand here a little longer.
The door handle clicks behind me, unlocking. I spin. “Finally. What took you so—”
The words die in my throat.
It’s Roran—I’d recognize her soul in the darkest depths of the sea—but she’s different.
She’s wearing a long pink wig, a black mask shaped like butterfly wings, glitter dusting her cheeks and lips painted a blinding neon pink.
My gaze drops lower—glitter smears her breasts, pushed up by a bra that barely qualifies as fabric, wings spread like a costume. The matching panties are tighter than sin.
“You…” I rasp, low and guttural, fighting every instinct to slam her against the wall. My cock hardens instantly.
