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41. Gleb

Istand under the cold water of my shower for a solid ten minutes, hand pressed against the wall, staring at the floor. But the icy chill does nothing to ease the knots in my stomach. Or the weight of my conscience.

Because despite myself, when I turned around in the hallway and found Mel mere inches from me—trapped between me and the door she closed to avoid disturbing Gabby—I was immediately turned on.

Her sweet lemon-vanilla scent is like a shot of adrenaline straight to my heart, a trigger that awakens my most primitive desires. I want Mel so badly I don't trust myself to stay away from her. Even if I know that's what she would prefer.

Holding onto the moral compass I've worked so hard to build is a struggle.

And the worst part about it is that my attraction to her clouds my judgment.

It leaves me coming back to her long after I should have let her go.

It doesn't help that I no longer know how to trust her words. Every time I think I'm starting to understand Mel, she says something that throws me for a loop.

Her actions say one thing, then her words say another.

I don't know if she simply does it out of habit, or if it's her strategy for survival. Still, I'm starting to think she only says what she thinks I want to hear—or at least whatever she thinks the person she's trying to convince at the time wants to hear.

The truth behind it doesn't matter to her.

All that matters is that she can manipulate them into doing what she wants.

A useful tactic when it's life or death with a crazy man like Vinny.

But I don't know how to interpret it.

I'm lost.

The truth is what grounds me.

It's what I've been trained to seek out and identify at all costs, and with Mel, that line between truth and lies blurs so seamlessly, I've lost track of it entirely.

Sighing in frustration as the water raises goosebumps across my flesh but does nothing to clarify my jumbled thoughts, I turn it off. Stepping out of the shower, I quickly towel off and wrap the terry cloth around my waist before I brush my teeth. Then, finger-combing my wet hair back into place, I head into my bedroom to find a pair of joggers.

A soft knock on the door catches my ear, and I tense, my hands halfway into my drawer. Glancing down at my towel, I debate how smart it would be to answer it like this. But maybe Mel really needs something—or something on Gabby's behalf.

Stalking toward the door, I open it to find Mel with her fist raised, ready to knock again.

"Oh," she says, her eyes dropping to my bare chest, then down to the towel wrapped around my waist. "Sorry, I didn't realize…" Her look of confidence vanishes, replaced by hesitation.

"It's fine," I say gruffly, trying to ignore the way her eyes alone send warm electricity across my exposed skin. "What's up?"

"I, uh—" Mel fidgets with her fingers as she glances back toward her room.

She's still dressed in her pretty lace dress, the soft-white color accentuating her natural tan. And her ruby lips draw my eyes when she's not looking at me.

"Is everything okay?" I ask, stepping forward to peer down the hall with her.

A big mistake. Because she doesn't step back like I expected. So, once again, I'm in her personal space.

Her eyes snap up to mine, her chin lifting, and her throat spasms as she swallows. And when she licks her lips, my cock starts to swell beneath my towel.

"Yes, everything's fine," she assures me, her voice suddenly breathy and entirely too enticing.

I nod, mirroring her nervous gesture as I swallow hard. Then I force myself to take a step back—to give myself enough room to breathe, to think clearly.

I know that it's technically our "wedding night." Her dress reminds me of it like a slap to the face. But our marriage is nothing more than an attempt to keep Mel out of the hands of the Boston mafia, away from the Kellys, who could kill her as soon as they have what they want.

So, as tempted as I might be to start something with her, I can't,I remind myself.

I left her outside her guest room earlier, before I did anything I might regret.

But right now, facing her a second time feels like a test of willpower I might not be strong enough to pass.

"Then, what are you doing outside my room?" It takes considerable effort to keep my voice even, my face relaxed.

Mel steps forward, closing the distance between us and reminding me agonizingly of that night she came to me on Pyotr's estate—the first night we spent together.

"I feel like I owe you a proper thank-you—for everything you've done for me, and Gabby," she murmurs.

"You already thanked me," I point out evenly, my pulse thundering in my ears.

But rather than answer, Mel leans onto the balls of her feet, her soft palms finding my bare chest, and slowly, they slide up to comb into the back of my hair.

Her onyx eyes search mine.

Digging for something deep inside my soul.

And her gaze darts down to my lips.

"I know, but I didn't thank you fully," she breathes.

She leans against me, closing the last few inches between us as she gives me a slow, scintillating kiss. Her full lips are dangerously soft and inviting, her tongue a refreshing mint that cools the seam of my lips as it darts out to trace them.

Fire races through my veins, and I cradle the back of her head with my palms as my body responds instinctively, my need for her obliterating my self-restraint. My tongue strokes deep inside her mouth, meeting her eagerness with my own exponential hunger.

She tastes like heaven and smells like a goddess. But she feels better than the finest drug—an intoxicating pleasure that leaves me drunk at the slightest touch.

I ache for Mel with a desperation that's nothing short of sinful.

That's what makes me force my palm to her collarbone so I can gently push her back.

Our lips part, the sudden loss like a searing lash across my soul. But I keep my hand steady, holding her far enough away that I can meet her eyes for what I have to say.

Because as much as I want Mel, as passionately as I crave her, I don't want her this way.

"I don't consider you a whore," I state hoarsely, my voice coming out harsher than I intend with my scarcely contained desire. "I don't want you to use your body to try and pay me back. Go to bed, Mel. Before we do something you regret."

I already regret it.

Now that I've kissed her lips, I feel the pain of withdrawal setting in.

It's going to be a rough night.

Fuck, it hurts.

To see her big, beautiful eyes looking at me like I'm the one who doesn't want her.

"Please, Gleb, I…" Unshed tears shine in her gaze. "I don't want you to hate me anymore."

"Hate you?" My head spins at the suggestion. "Why would you think I hate you?"

"Because of what I said at Pearl's. I wanted to go with you that night. I did. You know that, don't you? I would have left with you. But then Vinny and Harper came in with Harper's men, and I just… I couldn't let them kill you. So I said what I had to say to make them stop."

Closing my eyes, I swallow hard. I know what she said saved my life.

And maybe she's telling the truth—maybe she only agreed to marry Vinny to protect me.

But did she really want to come back to New York with me?

Or is she just saying that now because she thinks that's what I want to hear?

Fuck!

"Please, Gleb," Mel whispers, her hand finding my chest once more. Her palm rests right over my beating heart I'm trying so hard to control. "Please, don't shut me out."

My eyes snap open to make sense of her words, and the tears that glisten on her lashes are my undoing.

"I don't hate you, Mel. I could never hate you," I assure her.

And as if it's developed a life of its own, my hand lifts from her collarbone to cup her soft cheek.

"Then say you forgive me," she insists. "For what I said in Boston."

Why does it feel like the knife just keeps digging deeper? Twisting inside my gut?

"There's nothing to forgive. You did what you thought was best," I assure her. "You saved my life. I know that."

But does that mean she actually wants me, like her kiss would imply? Or is she just doing this now to mend something between us that's not her responsibility to fix? What's the truth, and what's the lie?

I can't tell anymore.

Mel's parting words from each of our past fights come flooding back to me in a rush, filling my mind as if my brain was just waiting for me to ask the question:

"I need space. I need freedom. And I think we both know those are things you can't give me."

"I need to find my own way, my own life, and I have to do this without you."

"If I don't get out, I'll never be happy. I'll never truly be free."

"You like to pretend you're so different from all the other assholes who want to possess me. But in reality, you just want to own me like every other man I've ever known."

"I want you to leave me alone, Gleb. Just… go back to New York and leave me in peace."

And it hits me like a ton of bricks. Those words are no different than what she said to Vinny. "You'd be doing me a favor by kicking him out… He means nothing to me."

Yes, she said those words to save my life. But that doesn't make them any less true.

And now she's trying to mend my heart—my pride—because I'm just too addicted to keep it together. I didn't want to see the truth for what it is.

"You say there's nothing to forgive, but then why have you barely looked at me since you agreed to marry me this afternoon?" she presses. "Why won't you talk to me?"

I shake my head, my throat tightening with the emotions that threaten to consume me. Because, for once, I can't tell her the truth. I can't bring myself to say that it's because today was one of the happiest of my fucked up existence. That it felt like I somehow won the golden ticket.

And it's entirely at her expense.

"Please, Gleb. Can't we just have one night where we put all our shit aside? I don't want our wedding night to be empty and meaningless. I don't want to be alone."

Mel steps forward again, and this time, I can't bring myself to stop it.

I can't resist.

I know I'm going to hate myself for it later.

But something about the way Mel pleads makes me lose my ever-loving mind.

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