Page 67 of Velvet Chains
“Fifteen minutes. Don’t you fucking dare open the ‘46 without me.”
“Hold up, boss, I wasn’t done,” Misha gripes. “Guess who else Igor got in the meat locker, caught with his hand in the cookie jar? Fucking Dave. Idiot was tearing through Laura’s apartment like he owned the place. Probably looking for the ledger.”
I whistle low. “Well, well. This just got a hell of a lot more interesting.”
A slow grin spreads over my face. Dave. The spineless little shit who’s been sneaking around Laura. Thinking he was clever.
Oh, I’m going to enjoy the talk with him when I’m back.
“Find out why he took the ledger,” I tell Misha. “And tell Igor to break something. Non-vital.”
Misha’s dark chuckle crackles down the line. “With pleasure, boss.”
I’m already searching for clothes, my cock wilting as my mind shifts gears. “Give me ten minutes.”
I end the call and turn to look at my sleeping wife, so soft and trusting. My chest does that clenching thing again.
Fuck. Get a fucking grip.
I should wake her. Fill her in. But she looks so peaceful, I can’t bring myself to disturb her. Instead, I just bend down and brush a kiss against her forehead, breathing in the scent of our coupling on her skin.
Then I straighten, irritated with myself. I’m getting soft. Weak. The kind of vulnerability I can’t afford in my line of work.
Turning away, I get dressed in silence, already shifting gears. The time for tenderness is over. Now, I have a snake to de-fang.
Giving her one last long look, I slip out the door, murder on my mind and ice in my veins.
Chapter 28
Laura
I WAKE up disoriented, my mind fuzzy and my body aching in places I didn’t know could ache. For a long moment, I just blink at the unfamiliar ceiling, trying to piece together the fragments of last night.
Where am I?
This isn’t the room I fell asleep in.
At least, I don’t think it is.
Everything after the third or fourth earthshaking orgasm is kind of a blur.
Gingerly, I shift, taking stock of my surroundings. The bed is sinfully soft, the sheets cool and smooth against my bare skin.
As I sit up, a scent wafts up from me. That cool, crisp scent of Victor’s cologne mixed with something headier. Something primal. It clings to me like a second skin, a reminder of everywhere he touched me. Everywhere he claimed me.
A shiver runs through me, my body clenching at the memory.
God, the things he did to me last night. The way he played my body like a finely tuned instrument, wringing pleasure from me until I thought I might actually die from it.
I can still feel the ghost of his hands on me, his mouth. The rasp of his stubble against my thighs, the hot silk of his tongue as he—
A loud buzz shatters the sensory memory. I jump, my heart slamming against my ribs. It takes me a disoriented second to realize it’s a phone vibrating insistently on the nightstand.
Wait. A phone?
It is a phone. A sleek, shiny rectangle of tech that probably costs more than my rent. It looks wildly out of place in my clumsy, sleep-numbed grip.
I glance around, waiting for Victor to jump out and chew me out for messing with the phone… but the room’s empty.
