The elevator ride feels endless. I lean against the wall, clutching the keycard. My reflection stares back at me, and it looks like I spent the night in a war zone.
Which isn't far from the truth.
The elevator dings, and I step out onto the fourth floor. My legs feel heavy, my body exhausted in a way that has nothing to do with the mission and everything to do with Victor.
I unlock the door to my suite and step inside, locking it behind me.
I toss the keycard onto the table and head straight for the bathroom, already peeling off the shirt. I stare at myself in the mirror and assess my naked body.
Bruises are starting to form across my ribs. A faint cut runs along my collarbone. My thighs ache from...
I turn away.
I slide my ring off carefully and set it on the counter, afraid I might damage the intel.
Then I turn on the shower.
Steam rises as I step under the hot spray, letting the water cascade over my skin. I close my eyes and tilt my head back, trying to wash away the blood, the sweat, the scent of Victor.
But it doesn't work.
I can still feel his hands on my body. His mouth on my neck. The way he pinned my wrists above my head and took everything I gave him.
Ugh, I need to focus.
The data is on the ring. Ivan is waiting. That's all that matters right now. Not the way Victor looked at me when I told him my name or how he...
I reach for the shampoo and work it through my hair, my fingers massaging my scalp as the water runs over my shoulders.
A faint sound cuts through the hiss of the shower, and I freeze, listening.
It's nothing, I tell myself. Just the pipes.
I rinse the shampoo from my hair, but the unease lingers. I turn to wash my body, grabbing the soap and lathering it over my arms, my chest, my stomach.
Another sound. Closer this time.
I stop moving, my heart beating hard in my chest.
Am I going crazy?
I turn into the stream of water to rinse off the soap, my eyes squeezed shut as the spray hits my face.
Suddenly, a massive hand grabs my arm and yanks me hard out of the shower.
I crash to the bathroom floor, my hip slamming against the tile. Pain explodes through my side, and I scramble up, water streaming down my body as I blink through the spray.
When my eyes focus, I see my worst fucking nightmare.
Dimitri Volkov.
He's flanked by five men, all armed, all staring at me like I'm already dead.
My stomach drops.
Dimitri holds a towel in one hand, his expression calm, almost bored. His gaze drags down my naked body, lingering in a way that makes my skin crawl.
I refuse to cover myself.
