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“Did you know me that night?” he asks.
I hesitate, frowning. “Not at first. Not until I saw the tattoo and I put it together.”
He nods slowly. “You know something about the mafias then.”
I chew on my lip. That was a mistake. A random girl from a nothing family wouldn’t know the Novalovs.
“I can’t say more.”
He grips my wrist tighter. Heat rolls off him in waves. “I came here to see you. I wasn’t sure if I could get out of the car.”
“And here you are. Whatever you want from me, I can’t give it.”
His lips quirk. “I owe you a treasure.”
I shake my head. “Please, don’t. I’m not that girl. She’s dead. She only lasted one night.”
He leans in. “You’re still that princess. You can wear rags, but you’ll still shine for me.”
What is with this guy? His words are like honey on my tongue, and I’ve been so desperate to feel something halfway good—but this is too much. He overwhelms me, short-circuits my system, overloads the pleasure centers of my brain with a simple phrase.
“Don’t come back,” I say, putting my hands on his massive chest. I can feel his heart racing. It’s like heaven, each fast thump.
“Is that what you want, or are you afraid of them?”
“Let’s call it both. Just stay away, okay? Forget we ever met.” I push away from him, but he grabs my hips and holds me tight. I whimper in surprise and excitement as heat blushes down my cheeks and in between my legs.
He comes closer. His lips brush mine, across my chin, and to my ear.
“I know you were a virgin,” he whispers.
I shudder and let out a gasp. How did he realize? But of course he knew. I must’ve bled all over the bed. I hadn’t thought about it until now—I’ve been too busy fighting for my life to consider whether he’d realize he took my V-card or not.
“Then you can keep that part of me forever. We had one night, okay? Consider it a gift and a thank you for making me feel good.”
He lets out a low rumble. “I want more.”
“I know what you want.” My fingers dig into his chest. I hate myself for what I’m about to say, but I have to say it. I need him to go away, to leave here, even if it rips me to pieces and kills me a little bit. It’s not for me, it’s for Mira, and all the others girls. Zarita will torture them all just to hurt me, and I can’t allow it.
“I know what you want,” I say again, meeting his eyes, and I’m trying so hard not to cry. “But you’ll have to go through Zarita to get it. She sets the rates. I just spread my legs.”
His eyes widen. His grip hardens before he releases me. I step away, hating myself. I feel sick and dizzy.
“You think I’m here to buy—that?”
“I think that’s what you all want. You got me that night for free. If you want it again, you’ll have to pay.”
“Siena,” he says and I can hear the pain in his tone.
“This is my life now, Maxim. Please, either pay Zarita, or leave me the hell alone.”
I turn and run. It’s not graceful, but it’s necessary, because I’m crying. Tears spill down my cheeks, fat and awful. I hate myself, hate myself, hate myself so much. I’m useless, worthless, a stupid fool, and I never should’ve gone near him again.
I can’t risk letting the girls get hurt. Mira was beaten once. What else will Zarita do if she catches me breaking the rules? How far will my family go to make my life hell?
It’s the right thing. I need to push Maxim away. Even if all I want is to throw myself into his arms and kiss him deep and dark and slow, to taste his tongue and hear his pleasure grunts, to sink down into satin sheets besides his massive frame.
I can’t and I won’t. It’ll never happen, and I need to accept it.
