Page 167 of Ripped Veil (Ripped Bratva)

“Okay,” I whisper. I can’t decide whether or not I believe him.

“Take off the dress.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Take off the dress. It’s covered in his blood, and we can’t have anyone finding evidence that we had anything to do with the murder.”

You would think that the word “murder” would stand out to me. But strangely, it doesn’t.

It’s the “we” that gets me.

Maybe that’s why I don’t argue as I try to reach back and unzip myself. After struggling for a few seconds, Phoenix walks closer to me.

“Let me,” he says harshly. “Turn.”

I spin slowly away. I feel his hands graze up my sides before he unzips me.

I shimmy out of the dress, and he immediately flings it onto the firepit. The flames roar as it consumes the silky fabric.

“What about you?” I ask.

“My coat is clean,” he says, shrugging it off his shoulders and handing it to me. “You’re going to be cold once we’re away from the fire.”

I look down, realizing that I’m naked except for the white panties I’d pulled on that morning. I take his coat and slip it on. It swallows me whole. It smells of him.

Phoenix pulls off his shirt. There’s only a little blood on the collar and sleeves, but he throws it into the firepit anyway. That leaves him standing there in the firelight, naked from the waist up.

The shadows reflect off his perfectly sculpted torso. He looks like a statue come to life, all hard lines and brutally sharp edges. It’s unreal.

When I raise my eyes, I realize that he’s watching me watching him. The blush is inevitable but I don’t avert my gaze. I hold his as though I have something to prove.

He walks right up to me until we’re practically nose to nose. Red flames dance around in his dark irises. Hot flames. Dangerous flames. Flames that want to consume me—and they will, if I give them the chance.

“How bad is it?” I ask when the silence gets so heavy that I can’t bear it any longer.

He waits a while before answering. “If even one person saw you tonight, they’re going to connect you to me.”

“The woman whose dress we stole…” I mumble.

“Yes, she’ll most likely give us up. Identifying us is all it would take.”

“The police are already after me.”

“How do you know that?” Phoenix asks sharply.

I raise my eyebrows. “You know?”

“Of course I know,” he says impatiently. “I make it my business to know everything that involves me or my house.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What purpose would that have served?” he says.

He had kept it from me to… protect me? Spare my feelings? Keep me from worrying? All those reasons suggest that he cares about me.

One step forward.

“Elyssa,” he begins. The heat I’m feeling is coming off him now, not the fire.

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