Chapter 3

Maya

My lips still felt fresh from his kiss, and I hated myself for it. What the hell had I done? The thud of my heartbeat pounded in my ears as I pressed my back against the cold bathroom wall, my skin still tingling from his touch. The events of last night replayed in my mind. The money. It's just for the money, I told myself over and over, but even that didn't feel convincing.

I could still feel the heat of his body, the intensity of his touch, the way he'd consumed me completely. I hated how much I had wanted it. How much I still wanted him. My fingers brushed my lips, recalling the taste of him. That kiss... It was supposed to mean nothing, just another part of the deal, but it felt like more.

This was madness. He was dangerous. Every warning in my head screamed for me to pull away, to walk out of it before it got any deeper. But the more I tried to convince myself it was just about the money, the more I realized it was never just about that.

All this wouldn't have happened if you didn't run away from home, a voice in my head reminded me.

Only if I didn't run away from the huge responsibility, maybe I wouldn't have been robbed and gone searching for quick cash at a strip club.

Maybe I wouldn't have ended up in bed with a stranger who made me feel pleasure I'd never known.

I opened my eyes, staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, not recognizing the woman staring back. I should've felt disgusted with myself, should've felt used, but instead, all I could feel was the echo of his presence, the memory of his touch burning beneath my skin.

Every part of me screamed to stay away, but I knew, deep down, that it was already too late.

I took a shaky breath, running cold water over my hands.

I had to get out of here before he wakes up. Last night was a mistake, one I couldn't afford to repeat. The deal was clear—nothing personal, no feelings. But somewhere along the line, I enjoyed every part of it. I let him crawl under my skin.

I tiptoed back into the room, my pulse hammering as I spotted him lying in bed, his chest rising and falling as he slept soundly. The sheets clung to his waist, revealing the expanse of his toned body, and I had to force myself to look away.

Focus. Get dressed and leave.

I gathered my clothes from the floor, moving as quietly as possible. My dress was wrinkled, and my hair was a mess. I didn't even have a shoe on. The one I wore from the club was nowhere to be found. But I didn't care. I just needed to leave before he opened his eyes, before he could say something that would unravel me all over again.

My eyes caught sight of the white envelope lying on his nightstand. Without a second thought, I picked it up. After all, the deal was to get the money in exchange for a night.

I would be a fool to leave without a dime. At least I wouldn't be wandering around the unfamiliar streets of Chicago. I tiptoed quietly. But as I reached for the door, his deep voice broke the silence.

"Leaving so soon, mi amor?"

My heart leapt into my throat, and I froze. Slowly, I turned to find him leaning back on his elbows, his dark eyes locked on me with a knowing smirk. The sheet had slipped lower, revealing more of him than I was ready to handle this morning.

"I thought we were done," I said, trying to sound indifferent, but my voice wavered.

His smirk widened, a mix of arrogance and amusement. "We were. But you don't look like someone who's finished. You look like someone running away."

I swallowed hard, the weight of his gaze making it impossible to move. "I'm not running. I just have things to do."

"Things to do," he echoed, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing. He moved with a predatory grace, closing the distance between us in a few strides. "And here I thought you'd at least stay for breakfast."

"Breakfast isn't part of the deal," I shot back, forcing myself to hold his gaze.

His lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. "No, but you seem like the kind of woman who could use a little more... satisfaction before you go."

Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I hated how easily he could unravel me with just a look, a word, a smirk.

"I don't need anything else from you," I said firmly, though my hoarse voice betrayed me. "Last night was just..."

"Just what?" he challenged, his voice low and teasing. He stepped closer, his presence intimidating mine. Damn! How can a man be this perfect?

"Say it."

I clenched my fists, refusing to back down. "It was a mistake."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by my attempt to push him away. "Funny, you didn't seem to think so when you were screaming my name."

My cheeks burned, and I turned away, reaching for the door handle again. "I don't have time for this."

But before I could leave, his hand caught my wrist, firm yet gentle. I glanced up, and for a moment, the teasing glint in his eyes was replaced by something deeper, something I couldn't quite place.

"You can lie to yourself all you want," he murmured, his voice soft but intense. "But we both know the truth. Meet me downstairs."

He pulled my hand free, opened the door, and stepped out of the room. The truth? The truth was the one thing I couldn't face—not now, not while I was still drowning in the aftermath of last night.

My legs felt like lead as I stepped into the hallway, the sheer size of it momentarily disorienting me. Tall windows spilled soft morning light onto polished floors, and an imposing lion statue loomed to my left, nearly making me stumble. Who decorates their house like this? It felt more like a private museum than a home.

As I finally located the stairs down, my mouth dropped open at the sight before me—no, the living room before me. How did I not notice it last night?

Because you were busy kissing the attractive stranger.

"You have all the time in the world to admire the space." I literally jumped when I heard the deep voice straight in my ears. I had known the man for just a few hours, but his voice was something I could never forget.

He was seated in front of a large table containing all sorts of food. My stomach churned, reminding me I hadn't fed it with anything since last night.

"Come sit," he said in a way too commanding tone. Every part of me would love to devour the food, but another part of me reminded me of what I was supposed to do. Leave.

"Thanks for the offer, but I'm good."

"Come sit. We are not done yet," he said again, this time picking up his fork.

Wait... what was wrong with the man? Done with what?

I marched toward him, keeping my voice steady. "Thanks for the cash. I will be on my way."

He didn't flinch, didn't even blink. Instead, his fork clinked softly against his plate as he set it down. "No one spends the night with Roman and leaves," he said, his voice calm and sharp.

A shiver ran down my spine. "What? And what does that mean?"

He stood, his movements slow, and the room seemed to shrink around me. "It means," he began, his dark eyes pinning me in place, "you belong to me now, Maya. Whether you like it or not."

I laughed—a short sound meant to mask my annoyance. "Sorry, I'm no one's property. Enjoy your breakfast. You'll never see me around again." I spun around, ready to bolt, but his next words froze me mid-step.

"I'm sure you'll need more extra bucks to have your way around Chicago," he said smoothly, "and maybe a safe place to hide—from your father."

I whipped around, my pulse racing. "How... how do you know my father?"

He leaned back against the table, folding his arms across his chest. "I think you should be more concerned about the mess you created by dodging the marriage your father arranged."

The air left my lungs. My thoughts collided in a storm of shock. How the hell did he know about that? And who—no, what—was this man?

"Who are you?" I found myself letting out the question.

Roman took a step closer. His cologne, the one that intoxicated me and pulled me into him last night, wafted through my nostrils. The familiar sensation I felt had me gulping down my saliva.

His aura was too strong, and the fact that he was way taller than me intimidated me more than anything. It made me look small in front of him. "You have all the time to know me, mi amor."

"I have no time. I'm leaving," I declared. There was no way I would stay here any longer. If he worked for my father, he'd definitely take me back. And I couldn't allow all that I'd risked coming here to go in vain. Not a slight chance.

I stepped back, ready to make a run for it, when Roman's hand gripped my waist and pulled me forward, my hand landing on his chest. He gently tilted my chin up to meet his eyes.

"Believe me when I say no one spends the night with me and leaves. You belong to Roman Volkov now."

No. There was no way in hell this was happening. Not to me. Not again.