10. Chapter 10

ten

Clara

M y head is killing me, like I’ve been whacked with a crowbar and chased it with a bottle of cheap vodka.

Wait… I was drugged, wasn’t I?

Hazy memories flash through my mind—the club, the mark, that creep Ashton looming over me, then a dark figure in a mask…

I reach instinctively for my gun, but my fingers meet only the flimsy fabric of this ridiculous red dress.

Fuck .

Blinking hard, I try to bring my surroundings into focus. Plush black sheets, heavy crimson curtains, thick dark carpeting. Definitely not the club. Strains of classical music reach my ears, clashing bizarrely with the pounding in my skull.

I start to push myself up but freeze when I spot him .

A large silhouette by the bar, pouring himself a drink. Broad shoulders strain against a half-buttoned black shirt, the gape revealing an expanse of ink-covered skin. Powerful thighs showcased by fitted gray slacks.

A jolt of recognition hits me.

It’s him.

Our eyes had locked for a heated moment before he melted back into the shadows.

He looks even more imposing up close , I think, pulse picking up. The mask obscures half his face, but I can feel the intensity of his gaze from here. He moves with the coiled grace of a born predator.

Suck balls!

I reach up to touch my own face, relieved to find my mask still firmly in place. The last thing I need is for this dangerous stranger to recognize me.

Play it cool, Clara. Assess the situation.

Keeping my movements casual, I swing my legs over the side of the bed, bare feet sinking into the plush rug.

“Well, well. Sleeping Beauty awakes.” He turns to face me fully, a glass dangling casually from one big hand.

He crosses the room with a predator’s lazy grace, looming over me. Up close, the sheer size of him makes my pulse kick.

He could snap me like a twig… but strangely, I’m not afraid.

I look up at the man; he seems to take up the entire room. The spicy, masculine scent of him tickles my nostrils. I have the sudden, bizarre urge to bury my nose in the crook of his throat.

Get a grip! We don’t know who sent him.

I toss my hair, aiming for unruffled. “Don’t recall signing up for a private afterparty. You want to tell me what the hell I’m doing here?”

He smirks, eyes glinting with amusement. “Ah. No ‘thank you’ for saving your life? And here I thought we had a connection. I’m hurt.”

I scoff, crossing my arms over my chest. “Who says I needed saving? Maybe I had the situation perfectly under control.”

He takes a step closer, crowding into my space. “Oh, you certainly looked in control, passed out in a room with an assassin. Forgive me for not realizing you had it all handled.”

I tilt my chin up defiantly, refusing to be intimidated by his size. “I’m tougher than I look. It takes more than that to rattle me.”

His gaze drops to my tits, lingering on the way my crossed arms push up my cleavage.

I clear my throat pointedly. “Eyes up here, Big Boy.”

His lips twitch as he drags his eyes back up to mine. “Apologies. I got distracted by the view.”

I roll my eyes, even as a traitorous flush heats my cheeks.

Tilting his head back, he knocks back the liquid in his shot glass in one smooth motion.

I eye the way his Adam’s apple bobs after downing that shot.

Geez. If his swallowing is that sexy, what else can he do with that sexy mouth?

“I have some questions for you, krasotka .” He lifts my chin with one large finger, eyes boring into mine behind his mask. “Starting with who are you? And who are you working for?”

Oh, Mr. Big Dick Energy here thinks he’s the boss, huh?

I let him enjoy the moment and meet his gaze, even as that single finger sears my skin. “Sorry, must have missed the memo about this being an interrogation. Points for ambiance, though, I’ll give you that.”

I pointedly scan our lavish surroundings before returning to his infuriatingly attractive face. “As for the rest, well… I’m afraid that’s strictly need-to-know. And you don’t need to know, krasavchik .”

A smirk plays at the edges of his lips after my words, his partial mask doing little to hide the amusement—or was it approval?—in his expression. Even with half his face obscured, it’s clear he’s not your run-of-the-mill handsome; there’s something dangerously appealing about him.

“Your accent could use some work,” he remarks. “But points for effort.”

I lick my lips, “I’ll be sure to practice before our next little tête-à-tête. Wouldn’t want to butcher the mother tongue.”

Which Russian cunt gang does this bastard roll with?

His gaze rakes down my body, lingering on the long line of my legs before dragging back up to meet mine. “Oh, I can think of a few other tongues I’d like to see you practice, krasotka. ”

Lord, have mercy on my dripping pussy.

I roll my eyes even as heat licks down my spine. “Down, boy. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

I push off the bed, the room spinning slightly as I find my feet. Damn, whatever they slipped me must’ve been strong. But I’ll be damned if I let this Mr. Big Dick Energy here see me wobble.

I sway toward him, red dress clinging to me. “Why don’t you be a gentleman,” I purr, trailing a finger down the front of his shirt, “and tell me your name?”

He catches my hand, engulfing it in his much larger one. The heat of his skin sears me even through the leather of his gloves. “Ladies first, krasotka . I insist.”

I tug half-heartedly at his grip, but it’s like trying to move a brick wall.

Christ, he’s strong.

A shiver skates over my flesh that has nothing to do with fear. “Well, if you insist… you can call me Katya .”

“ Katya ,” he repeats, rolling the name across his tongue like he’s tasting it. A secretive smile plays at the corner of his mouth. “Somehow, I doubt that’s what your mama calls you, but I’ll play along for now. Anton , at your service.”

He sketches a mocking bow, his intense brown eyes never leaving mine. I snort, sidestepping him to walk across the room. “ Anton , huh? How very James Bond of you.”

“What can I say? I’m a man of mystery.” He follows me, crowding into my space. That rich scent of him wreathes around me, making my head spin.

Get a grip, Clara.

“Mystery. Right. Is that why you rescued me from that club? Playing the gallant hero?” I arch a brow at him over my shoulder.

He chuckles, a low, dark sound that ripples across my skin.

“Hardly. More like I saw an opportunity, and I took it. Figured you might have some useful information once I got you talking.”

I huff. “So, I’m an ‘opportunity,’ huh? Careful, a girl might get the wrong idea.”

Suddenly, he’s right behind me, his chest brushing my bare back. I freeze, breath catching in my throat. “Oh, I think you know exactly what kind of opportunity you are, Katya ,” he murmurs, breath hot against the shell of my ear. “The question is, are you going to play nice and share?

I swallow hard, pulse pounding.

Get it together, pussy.

Steeling my spine, I turn to face him. This close, I have to crane my neck back to meet his gaze, his body a wall of hard muscle caging me in.

“That depends,” I manage, voice impressively even. “Are you going to keep running your mouth off, or are you going to pour me a drink? Because I’m parched.”

His eyes flash, a hint of admiration mixed with the heat. “Where are my manners?” He reaches past me for the bottle, his chest grazing my nipples. The contact sparks through me like a live wire.

“Are you a cop?” he asks abruptly, eyes narrowing. But I can tell he knows I’m not.

I scoff out a laugh.

“Because I’ve got to say, you’ve got that sexy undercover vibe down pat.”

I bite my bottom lip slightly, stepping nimbly out of his reach. “That’s a bold claim, Big Boy. What makes you think I’m not just an innocent clubber in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

A surprised huff of laughter escapes him, and I bask in that tiny victory. He leans back against the bar, arms crossed over that deliciously broad chest. “Innocent? You? I doubt that very much. But…”

He turns and produces a second glass to go with the expensive-looking bottle of vodka. “Perhaps we can find a more civilized way to get to the truth. What do you say, Katya ? Care to join me for a little game?”

I eye the bottle warily. Getting drunk with a dangerous stranger seems like a monumentally bad idea. Especially since my last fucking drink took the legs out from under me. Then again, the quickest way to stay alive is to play along. I’m confident I can drink this giant under the table.

I shrug, placing both palms flat on the bar top and leaning in conspiratorially. “I’m listening. What did you have in mind?”

Interest sparks in his eyes and he matches my posture, bringing our faces temptingly close together. The spicy cedar scent of him is dizzying.

“Drink for drink. Question for question. We take turns, and the first to pass out or chicken out loses. Loser spills all their secrets.”

I pretend to consider, then smirk wickedly. “Deal. Hope you can hold your liquor, big guy. Would be a shame if that pretty mask came off too soon.”

“Oh, it’s not my mask you need to worry about, krasotka, ” he purrs, voice dropping an octave. “Prepare to be stripped bare… one way or another.”