16. Chapter 16

16

Wren

I need to see Em. Now. I fumble for my phone, surprised to find it intact in my pocket.

Em picks up on the third ring, her voice thick with sleep. "Wren? Where are you? We were waiting for you to have dinner…"

"I'm, uh… I'm fine, squirt," I say, keeping my voice low. "Had some extra work at the bar. Sorry I didn't call."

I glance at the time on my phone and curse under my breath. 1 AM? Fuck .

"Listen, Em, it's late. Get some sleep, okay? I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay," she mumbles. "Oh, Lenny can't wait to get his new laptop tomorrow."

Shit . The laptop. The money. My stomach churns as I remember shoving that wad of cash at the Russians. How the hell am I going to explain this to Lenny?

"Yeah, about that…" I start, but my eyes catch something on the glass coffee table. Stacks of crisp bills. They look exactly like the ones I had in my pocket.

What. The. Fuck?

My eyes snap up to D, narrowing. He's leaning back, but still close enough I can count his damn eyelashes. His gaze roams over me like he's memorizing every bruise.

"Wren, you there?" Em's voice comes over the line.

I press my lips together, fighting the urge to tell her everything. "Did… did John come home?"

The line goes staticky. "Hello? Wren, what did you say?"

I shift on the sofa, the leather squeaking like it's narrating my discomfort. D's eyes are locked on me now, drinking in every word.

"Don't worry about it, squirt. I've got it covered," I say, my mind reeling. "Get some sleep. Love you."

I hang up, staring at the money, and to D.

He's standing now, and Jesus Christ, he's huge. Not just tall but built like a brick shithouse. His shirt's unbuttoned halfway down his chest, revealing a tapestry of ink and scars. My eyes trail lower, following the dark hair disappearing into his waistband, down to the unmistakable bulge in his pants.

Fuck me, that's the biggest package I've ever seen. My mouth goes dry, and I swear I can feel heat radiating off him from here.

Close your fucking mouth, girl.

I clear my throat, trying to regain some dignity. "Well, uh, thanks for… saving me, I guess."

"Again," he rumbles, walking toward me with a glass in his hand.

"Again?" I quirk an eyebrow, not taking the offered drink. Instead, I rub my eyes, trying to focus. "What do you mean, again?"

"Yes. Again." He sits down in front of me, so close I can feel the heat rolling off his body. His scent fills my nostrils—a mix of expensive cologne, whiskey, and pure, unadulterated man.

Stop it, Wren. Don't think about his cock. Or how it would feel stretching you open. Or… fuck.

I reach for the glass, desperate for a distraction. Our fingers brush, and it's like touching a live wire. I jerk back, nearly spilling the drink.

"No, you didn't save me… again, " I mutter, crossing my legs to hide the growing dampness between them. His forearms catch my eye—thick, corded with muscle, veins standing out under tanned skin. Goddamn .

"I didn't?" He leans in, a playful smirk on his lips.

"No, you didn't. I was handling things just fine before… Oh yeah, before you knocked me out!" I snap, trying to ignore how his proximity is making my skin tingle.

D leans back, a wry grin playing on his lips. "Come on, malyshka . It's only natural to knock someone out when they're coming at you with a knife, looking like a rabid raccoon on meth."

I can't help the snort that escapes me. Goddammit . I don't want to find him funny.

I roll my eyes and take a swig from the glass, expecting water. Instead, whiskey burns down my throat.

"What the fuck?" I sputter, coughing.

D laughs, a deep, rich sound that does things to my insides. Then he sobers, reaching out to cup my chin. His thumb brushes over my bottom lip, and I swear I stop breathing.

"You've got fire, malyshka ," he murmurs, his eyes dark with something that looks a lot like hunger. "I like that."

I should pull away. I should tell him to fuck off. I should do anything but lean into his touch.

But as his fingers trail down my neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake, I make a decision. Mafia or not, I'm going to fuck Dimitri tonight.

"Yeah?" I breathe, setting the glass down with a shaky hand. "What else do you like?"

His eyes flash, and suddenly, he's pulling me onto his lap. I gasp as I feel the hard length of him pressing against me.

"Why don't I show you?" he growls, one hand tangling in my hair.

As his lips crash into mine, tasting of whiskey and sex, I know there's no going back.

And right now? I couldn't care less.