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18. Gleb

Leaning against the side of the building next to Pearl's, I keep my hood up, my hands jammed in my pockets to hide my bruised and bloody knuckles. No one gives me a second glance as they walk by, and I intend to wait here for as long as it takes for Mel to come out.

I couldn't get back into the burlesque lounge if I tried. Even with my familial connection. I've been blacklisted, and though the bastard deserved exactly what he got, I should have seen it coming. Blood family matters to the Kellys. Which means Keoghan's cousin is untouchable no matter how big a douchebag he proves to be.

Fury still bubbles in my chest when I think of the asshole who touched Mel. That gloating sneer on his face. The murky stain of my emotions makes it hard for me to recall the scene clearly. And now that the heat of the moment has cooled, I can't help but wonder if I imagined the discomfort on her face.

Maybe that was just all part of the show.

After all, she was practically gyrating in his face.

The truth is, I have no clue who Mel is anymore. My reaction was in response to the scared and traumatized eighteen-year-old I knew. The girl I pulled from Mikhail's truck full of trafficked women. And seeing as she's working at Pearl's, Mel could have an entirely different outlook on life and men at this point.

But I won't find out until I speak to her. Which is exactly what I intend to do.

Originally, I had hoped to find Sascha and wrap things up by tomorrow morning. But first things first, I need this closure. Because Mel is like a ragged scar on my heart, never quite healing so I can move on with my life.

It's nearly two in the morning by the time I hear a door open down the alley, and Mel wishes Viktor a good night. Then her long, confident steps echo through the alley I slouch beside.

I've been holding nearly the same position for hours, but my muscles are trained to endure long periods of discomfort. So I unfold myself without a sound, dropping my foot from the brick siding as I lower it to the ground.

Mel walks by me without a sideways glance, her intoxicating scent of vanilla and lemon wafting past as she turns right, carrying herself down the street with a sense of purpose. Her proud posture is enough to deter the less determined of the slimy scum who might consider taking advantage of a woman walking alone at this time of night.

But she should be more aware of her surroundings—even if I'm fairly easy to overlook when I want to be. After she fell victim to a sex trafficking operation more than once, I would hope she'd be more intentional about not letting anyone get the drop on her. Maybe she needs a reminder.

Pushing off from the brick wall where I was leaning, I follow her, falling into a steady stroll. A few stragglers are still on the street, but the crowd has died down considerably by now. As Mel nears the front entrance to where I'm staying, I quickly scan our surroundings, ensuring no one will notice if I grab her.

With three long strides, I catch up, covering her mouth with one hand and taking her arm with my other as I use my chest and momentum to steer her into the revolving door of my hotel. Mel objects loudly against my palm, but the night guard is snoring unapologetically behind the reception desk, his feet propped up and his fingers laced over his belly. No one else is around.

Walking Mel toward the bank of elevators, I punch the call button, then haul her inside the first set of doors that open. She's putting up a decent fight now, and I don't want to hurt her. So, as soon as the sliding doors close, I let her go.

Mel whirls, putting as much space as she can manage between us in the enclosed space. Her stance is immediately defensive as she faces me with a fierce glare. "What the hell, Gleb?" she hisses, her anger only spiking when she recognizes me. And I swear if she were close enough, she'd hit me.

"I could ask you the same thing," I snarl darkly, stepping forward to grab her arm again as the elevator dings open on my floor.

Either she's forgotten everything I've taught her about defensive maneuvers, or she's not trying to get away now. But she sure as hell is dragging her feet as I haul her down the carpeted hallway. I stop in front of my room a moment later and flash the key card to unlock it. Then we're both inside, the door clicking heavily closed behind us.

"Seriously, Gleb, what the fuck? You scared the shit out of me!" Mel snaps, her sailor's mouth coming out in full force and triggering a feeling of longing I hadn't anticipated.

But god, I've missed her. I've missed everything about her—her face, her scent, the almost delicate athleticism of her body, the way her eyes squint when she's angry, even her crude language that comes out whenever she's feeling feisty. Seeing her again brings a wave of agony that threatens to drag me under completely.

"Me, what the fuck?" I demand, jabbing my thumb into my chest. "How about you, what the fuck? You disappeared on me three years ago, touting some bullshit about getting away from my shitty, fucked-up world and following your dreams. And now I find you smack-dab in the middle of the world's biggest cesspool!"

Mel shakes her head. "I'm not?—"

"Don't fucking lie to me, Mel," I snarl, getting in her face as my hurt and frustration come boiling to the surface. "You're dancing for the fucking Kellys! You don't think I know who they are? What they do? It would take a blind man to miss the fact that your job practically borders on prostitution."

Mel gasps, her lips parting in a look of indignation.

"Everything I did was to protect you. So men couldn't use your body again, so you wouldn't have to sell it to survive. Why were you so damn adamant about leaving if this was as big as you could dream? I mean, come on, Mel. We've got clubs in New York. If you wanted to dance, I'm sure Pyotr would have hired you. Fuck, we're not idiots. We won't stop girls from earning cash on the side if that's what they choose to do."

"That's not fair. You don't understand," she insists, her onyx eyes igniting with fury.

"No? Tell me you aren't selling your body. Tell me you don't strip naked every fucking night so men can ogle you, picture you as they jerk off. How much do you charge to give them a hand?"

Mel's chin trembles, making the hole in my chest yawn painfully wide. She presses her lips together to suppress her emotion, but she doesn't say anything. She can't. Because she knows I'm right. And the fact that she doesn't deny it leaves me on the brink of losing my mind.

I'm being unreasonable.

I know that.

Mel was never mine to possess.

But confirming that she ran from me only to let other men have what I can't is pure torture.

Ugly resentment rises up inside me at the pain she dealt when she left. It took everything I had not to come after her, to let her go because I knew she was worth more than the life I could offer. I couldn't hate her for wanting to get away. I couldn't blame her for wishing for something better.

But to find her here, at Pearl's of all places, working for the Kelly syndicate?

It's a low blow, and it hits way too close to home. Does she even know how personal the insult is?

The irony doesn't escape me that if I'd followed my original path in life, I might have been buried balls deep inside her tonight for a couple thousand bucks. Just paying for my pleasure, not a care in the world. Because she waltzed right into the future that could have been mine and made herself perfectly at home.

But I walked away from this life. Because I wanted to be a better man than that. And now here she is, offering up that pleasure to god only knows who else. Probably the fucking Kelly cousin who groped her in the middle of her performance tonight.

"Fuck it," I snarl, my temper winning out. "I'm taking you back with me to New York." Shoving my hand into my pocket, I pull out my wallet and shake it at her. "If you want to sell your body, then fine. I'll buy it. I don't care about the price." Dragging out my wad of cash, I flash a hundred in her face. "How much?"

"I don't want your money, Gleb," Mel says, her voice trembling.

And if I weren't so completely overwhelmed by dark, poisonous emotions, I might feel bad. But I'm too far gone. I can't stop myself. Separating a hundred dollar bill from the stack, I curl my fingers around the low-cut neckline of her dress as I shove the currency into her bra.

"That should cover a kiss at least, don't you think?" I demand.

Tears make her dark eyes shine as hurt ripples across her beautiful face. And a stabbing guilt lances through me. But it's not enough to stop me.

Palming the back of her head with one hand, I wrap an arm around her waist and pull her forcefully against me. Our lips crash together, and an electric current races through my body, jump-starting my dead heart. It feels dangerously good to hold her, to kiss her once again.

I ache with the need to taste her, but I don't push it further. Because I'm dangerously close to crossing a line. And once I do, I'll never forgive myself.

Mel gasps, her body melting against mine as her hands fist around my jacket collar. Her lips part, and for a moment, our tongues stroke together in a passionate kiss. It lights my soul on fire, igniting every nerve in my body as I come to life.

Then, a second later, she shoves me away with as much force as she can muster.

I let her, watching warily as she sucks in deep, frantic lungfuls of air that make her chest heave. Heat sears inside her eyes.

And after all those times she's held back, she slaps me.

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