Novel-novel oleh Aliast

We didn’t go far. Renaldi and Wade had taken Vincent straight to the infirmary wing. A spotless, almost hospital-grade section of the mansion that smelled faintly of antiseptic and something akin to drugs. Illegal or not, I wouldn't ask.The staff had cleared the waiting area for us, which only made the space feel more charged. No chatter. No hushed gossip. Just a handful of very dangerous men sitting in a room that suddenly felt too small.I couldn’t sit still. My knee kept bouncing until Misha’s hand landed on it, firm but gentle. “Breathe, Angel” He said quietly, like we were the only two people there.I tried. It didn’t stick. My chest still felt tight.And then, without warning, he pulled me in, one arm sliding around my shoulders, tucking me into his side. I stiffened at first, partly because I knew at least three sets of eyes were on us, and partly because the gesture was so at odds with his usual brand of sharp-edged distance.

I woke up in an absurdly good mood.Maybe it had something to do with the fact that I had definitively proven my theory last night. Namely, Misha’s instant activation was not a myth, served for me only. All it took was one strategically sheer nightgown, a bed, and about three seconds before he was ready to break several laws of physics.Jesse would’ve been in shock if she’d been here to witness it. And Sadie would've been insufferably smug, most likely calling it an easy win over the lying warlord. I was still grinning about it as I padded into the dining hall, the smell of coffee and warm bread already making the day feel civilized.Vincent was at the head of the table, looking like a mafia patriarch straight out of a glossy magazine. That he was. Navy suit, silver hair perfect, and the faintest smile tugging at his mouth when he saw me. For a man who had technically only been my biological father for a matter of weeks, he’d mastered the art of

By the time I heard the low hum of the black Ferrari pull into the driveway, the clock had just passed midnight. Vincent’s mansion was quiet, all staff were gone for the night, lights dimmed in the halls.I’d been lying in bed for the last forty minutes, flipping through a magazine I wasn’t reading, and very intentionally wearing the most impractical nightgown I owned. Sheer, short, and the kind of thing that was useless for warmth but excellent for… experiments.Jesse’s words had been replaying in my head all evening.Just me.His body responds only to mine.I wasn’t about to admit she’d gotten in my head. But I was curious. And I wanted to see it for myself. Maybe.The bedroom door clicked open.Misha stepped inside, dark suit still sharp despite the late hour, hair mussed just enough to hint at how long his day had been. He was loosening his tie, eyes half-lidded, and then he saw me.He stopped still.

“Then it’s just you.”The words echoed long after Jesse had said them.“What do you mean… just me?”Jesse leaned forward like she was sharing a state secret. Her tone dropped, thoughtful, almost reverent in a way I hadn’t expected. “I mean he didn’t respond to anyone for years. No touches. No flashes of skin. No meds. Nothing. And now you’re telling me he was hard before you even touched him? That’s not physical. That’s… biological destiny or some shit.”I stared at her. “Biological—Jesse, come on.”“I’m serious,” she said, folding her arms. “It’s like he was in stasis until you showed up. Frozen in time. Frigid. You’re like… Misha’s keycard or something.”“Please don’t phrase it like that.”Jesse only smirked. “I mean it, Lorraine. For years, I thought he was broken. Emotionally. Physically. Like something inside him had permanently shut off. And maybe it had. Until you.” She paused, watching me a second longer, then ad

“So if it wasn’t the cooking or the money,” Jesse asked me with genuine curiosity brimming in her eyes, “Then what made you say yes? You’re still so young, Lorraine. And you married a man like Misha…”“…A man like Misha?” I asked carefully.Jesse’s expression didn’t change much when she pointedly continued, “You know what I mean. Brilliant. Dangerous. Handsome. Rich. And, well… impotent.”“Impotent?” The word landed between us like a dropped glass. I stared at Jesse, blinking once, twice, three times just to be sure that I must’ve misheard her.“Wha—what do you…” I frowned, brows knitting as confusion took place, “...What do you mean by that?”Jesse was completely unaffected by the verbal bomb she’d just dropped on me. She lifted her brows, saying matter-of-factly, “It means exactly what it sounds like, sweetheart. He couldn’t get it up. No hardness, no reaction, no erection, no matter what I did to him.”“I—Iknow what…

“Why the fake name?”Jesse tilted her head.“At the gala,” I added. “You introduced yourself as Isadora Vale. Misha said your name's Jesse Morgan.”She looked at me for a moment, then gave a small shrug. “Force of habit. I hadn’t used my real name in public in a long time. When I went off the grid after the last op, I needed to disappear. Isadora Vale was easier to hide behind.”“But Jesse Morgan is your real name.”She nodded. “It always was. I just stopped using it when it stopped feeling safe. Though, you can call me Jesse. I don't mind.”I hesitated, then asked the question that had been brewing since I saw her face-to-face. “How long were you and Misha… together?”A beat passed before Jesse answered. “Three years. Most of it was during active deployments. You know how it is, long stretches of silence broken by chaos and adrenaline. It wasn’t always easy to separate what was real from what was convenient.”“

The silence between us was louder than the music still pulsing behind us. I didn’t dare look back. Not at the booth, not at the other dancers, not even at Isla, though I could feel her eyes searing a warning into my spine.Elian didn’t touch me. He didn’t need to. His presence guided me like a hook beneath my skin, dragging me in his wake, through the hallways, past velvet ropes and guards who looked away the moment they saw him.We took a different elevator, this one required a keycard. He slid it without a word, and the doors sealed shut behind us with a hiss that sounded too much like finality.Just him.Just me.And the soft hum of the ascent.I tried not to fidget. My fingers twitched against the hem of my too-short dress. The flip phone was still in his hand. I couldn’t stop staring at it.He didn’t look at me. Didn’t speak. Just stared ahead at his reflection in the mirror-paneled walls like a statue car

The call ended with Charlie’s panic still echoing in my head, full of all the things I didn’t want to hear right now. I didn’t even have time to process what I’d just admitted before a sharp knock landed on the door like a warning shot.Three quick raps.I shot to my feet and shoved the phone under the pillow. “Just a second.”The voice that answered didn’t sound like it liked waiting. “I wasn’t asking.”The door creaked open before I even reached it. Isla stood there, silver hair falling in a straight, ruthless sheet, lips the color of dried blood, and boots that could crush bones. She didn’t bother stepping in. She just held out a black hanger with a thin, shimmery slip of a dress dangling from it like a threat. “Shower. Dress. Don’t keep them waiting.”I frowned in confusion. “Them?”“Clients,” Isla deadpanned. “You’ve got a booth tonight.”Right. That. I’d almost forgotten the cover I was working

The hallway above Evergarden was almost too clean for a nightclub. No trace of the sweat and liquor downstairs. Even the air smelled faintly of bleach, leather, and whatever cologne the bouncer ahead of me was wearing. He didn’t speak as we walked, just climbed the stairs with me following behind. No introduction between us. Perhaps he was expecting me to get kicked out next week. Hopefully, because that meant I would still be alive by then.He stopped in front of a door with number 304 in it and keyed in a code. The lock beeped softly and clicked open. He turned just enough to glance at me, face unreadable. “Your key code’s the last four digits of your Social. If you need anything, ask for Juno at the front desk. No outside visitors unless cleared by Isla.”“Got it.” I muttered, silently remembering what my fake Social number was. He didn’t say anything else and just walked off like he had a dozen other things to do, and I was already one too

Elian signed the check with a single, deliberate stroke. His name stretched across ten million dollars like it meant nothing more than a normal paper. Not blood. Then, he stood and slid it across the table.Galli snatched it before the ink dried, his fingers twitching like he’d been starving for it. He looked like a greedy, dirty rat. The kind of man who wouldn’t flinch cutting someone open if it meant a bigger payday.Elian didn’t even glance at him as he muttered, “Let’s go.”Jodie was already halfway to the door, phone in hand, thumbs flying across the screen with mechanical focus. I followed them briskly, knowing damn well what staying behind would mean. Galli’s men stood like shadows wrapped in designer suits. I didn’t look back, but I felt them. Their eyes clung to me despite Elian’s jacket, sticky and cold.Outside, the air hit like a slap from the rain. Cool, damp, sharp enough to remind me I was still alive.The black SUV waited

The one called Luca, the same bastard who’d spilled the drink on me earlier, stood at Galli’s shoulder. His gun unholstered, leveled with clinical precision at my head. His partner aimed an identical muzzle at Jodie.It wasn’t the first time I’d had a gun to my head. Occupational hazard. Came with the territory. But a cold sweat still dotted my brow, panic began to swirl like silt in dark water, and my stomach flipped ugly. It had been years since I’d been a detective with a gun in my hand instead of aimed at it.The same couldn’t be said for Jodie. That woman was giving cool, calm, and collected a run for its money. Her face was drawn, mouth tight. Either she was used to this or she had good reason not to worry.I prayed it was the second.Then, I saw Elian pull the gun from behind his body. A motion fluid, practiced, and laced with a violent sort of grace.It was the Glock 17 from before. I knew that model well

The suited man returned, a dark bottle of something too expensive to pronounce cradled like a fragile family heirloom between his gloved hands.“Ah,” Galli murmured, eyeing the bottle with a crooked grin. “Dalmore 62. A fitting pour for a man like you, Morgenstein. Rare, aged in secrecy, with just enough burn to keep people honest.”Elian said nothing. He merely watched, lips a still line, as the suited man began to pour.He started with Galli, tilting the bottle expertly, a neat stream of amber liquid catching the light as it spilled into the crystal glass. Then to Jodie, whose fingers curled loosely around the stem, eyes fixed on the table. Then to Elian.When the suited man reached me, though, his hand twitched. The drink splashed sharply over the rim, half in my glass, the rest cascading down the front of my dress like molten honey. Cold, sticky, humiliating.I gasped. The thin, rain-damp fabric clung to my skin, now darker with the spill, outlining my bra in stark relief beneath t