I shift my weight, bringing my face inches from hers.
"Let's talk about something else," I say, letting my gaze drop to her lips. "So... do you remember when you said you found me intriguing?"
She groans softly, though a reluctant smile tugs at her lips. "Yes, but don't let it get to your head."
I laugh. "Too late. But for the record, I feel the exact same way about you."
She looks up at me, her breath hitching slightly. "Really? Or do you say that to all the women you sleep with?"
"No. Maybe I should," I say, rubbing my chin.
She hits my chest lightly. "Ass."
I catch her wrist, holding it gently. "You're different from any woman I've ever met," I say, my tone turning entirely serious. "It's so ironic, almost laughable, that we're on opposite sides."
"Well..." She shrugs, her smile going wide. "If I wasn't, it would be too perfect."
"And where's the fun in that?" I ask, and we both laugh.
For a moment, we just lie there, the space between us softening into something fragile and real.
"What happens next?" she asks finally, her voice barely above a whisper.
A million scenarios run through my head. Secure the ring. Copy the data. Disappear before Dimitri's men find us and figure out who Ivan is.
But as I look into her blue eyes, feeling the warmth of her bare skin against mine, I push the entire mafia world away.
Instead, I wrap my arms around her.
"Let's sleep," I say into her hair. "And figure it all out in the morning."
She kisses my chest, her lips soft against my skin, and curls into me. Her scent fills my lungs, and I close my eyes, letting the exhaustion finally take over.
For now, this is enough. It has to be.
Because tomorrow, the sun will rise, and we'll be back on opposite sides.
20
DANIKA
Outside, I see the first hint of light. Victor's asleep now, one arm draped possessively across my waist, heavy and warm.
I stare at the ceiling, my jaw clenched tight. I swear to God, I will never understand how men can simply fall asleep.
It's infuriating, actually.
Drop a conversational grenade about human trafficking, family vendettas, and God knows what else, then simply roll over and drift off like they just discussed their favorite foods. Meanwhile, my brain won't shut off. It spins and spins, churning through every word Victor said.
I haven't slept in almost twenty-four hours. I should be exhausted, sleeping even. Instead, I'm wide awake, staring at the ornate crown molding while my mind races at a hundred miles an hour, not letting any tiredness get to me.
And everything is starting to get to me. Even naked, this room feels too hot, and the once-soft sheets now scratch against my skin.
Was Victor serious about what he said? I mean, I know he is serious, but...
Could Ivan really be trafficking women?
The question makes my stomach twist. No. Absolutely not. Ivan wouldn't cross that line. He saved me, gave me purpose, trained me, made me into something. He respects lives much more than that. He wouldn't buy and sell them, right?
