All Chapters of Under her skirt: The last Kiss: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

POV: Anastasia (Skye)Red’s eyes lock with mine.The second we walked into the hospital room, Red’s eyes snapped to mine. She masked it quickly, slipping into character so smooth it was almost scary.“Mr. Volkov, it’s nice to meet you,” she said in a thick Italian accent, sounding like she just stepped off a Versace runway.Nikolaus offers her a curt nod, his attention already turning to the man lying in the hospital bed. Mark.He’s awake now. His body, still partially paralyzed, twitches ever so slightly. His eyes are closed,until they flicker open at the sound of Nik’s voice.“Is he doing better?” Nikolaus asks, stepping closer to the bedside. There’s a subtle crease between his brows.“He’s responding well,” Red replies with cool efficiency. “There’s still some stiffness and panic episodes, but his vitals are improving.”A flawless performance. Not even a hint of deception.I kept quiet, watching as Mark’s eyes finally found mine.And then… panic.His eyes blew wide. He tried to m

Anastasia’s POV“Shit.”The doorbell rang again.My heart jumped to my throat as I threw the bleach back under the sink, tossed the bloodied water into the bucket, and scrambled to hide the mess.“Who is that?” I called out, trying to sound casual,like I wasn’t seconds away from being caught cleaning up a potential murder scene.“Nikolaus, princess,” came his voice through the door, calm, deep, and dangerously smooth.I swore under my breath, sprinting to the leather couch. A big red stain had soaked into the seat from Agatha’s blood earlier, so I tossed a black throw over it like it was nothing more than a wine spill.“I’m coming!” I called, trying to buy time.Sprinting to my minibar,Grabbin a bottle of red wine, and smashed it against the rug. The scent of fermented berries exploded in the air, thick and pungent, blending perfectly with the crime scene.Quick thinking. Or so I hoped.To hide my bloodstained hands,I threw on a pair of black leather gloves and reached for the door,

Anastasia’s POVDreams are strange. Too strange sometimes. But other times, they hit just a little too close to home.I’ve always believed dreams were a kind of vision. A warning, or predictions waiting to unfold.My eyes fluttered open. Groggy. My limbs heavy. I turned my head and spotted it: a single white rose resting delicately on my bedside table.Nikolaus.He doesn’t give up, does he?The ache I have been trying to suppress in my chest felt heavier.Yesterday… yesterday I was just angry. Not because of what happened exactly,but because of how I felt. He makes me feel too much. And it’s been a very long time since I let myself feel anything.Back when my family died… that’s when I felt the most. I screamed. I cried. I bled just to feel something else. Eventually, I just stopped. My rage became a cold flame, my joy,a mask. I could laugh, flirt, seduce, even kill… but none of it touched the real me.But Nikolaus? Around him… I feel things. He stirs too much inside me, Rage. Tension

Anastasia’s POV“Mrs. Rose, it’s a club, not a church,” I muttered as she held up yet another floor-length, funeral-black gown.“Must you show body?” she asked with that thick accent of hers. It was the first time she’d said more than three words to me that weren’t commands. “Of course. A little slut never killed anyone,” I said, wiggling my eyebrows.She jumped like I’d cursed the pope, mumbling something about “children these days” and how disappointed she was in the world. But eventually, we settled on a silver silk gown, backless, hugging my waist, sleeveless with just a rope strap across the shoulders, stopping above the knee with a slit so high it could be considered criminal.“This is bomb,” I said, admiring it. She just nodded, mumbling something about Boss not liking lateness.I dressed in silence. Calm now. Steady. I liked casinos, chaotic energy, danger cloaked in velvet, and men dumb enough to bet more than they could afford to lose.I twisted my hair into an updo, pinn

Anastasia’s POVCheers.Slaps on the table.Laughter that buzzed like flies around rotting power.One man shouted, “Guess she really was just lucky!”Another whistled and raised his glass. “Get her ready!”I sat still in the middle of it all. The calm in the eye of the storm.The man,him, the one with dead eyes and too many rings,stood up, adjusting his cuffs with the swagger of someone who thought he owned me now.“Well, well, well…” he drawled, that slimy smirk stretching across his face. “Looks like you’re mine now, sweetheart.”I let the tiniest smile curl at the corner of my mouth. Empty. Hollow. Almost thoughtful.Then I rose from my chair,quiet, graceful. Like a woman walking to the gallows…My eyes slid to Mia.Still on her knees. Still trembling.I gave her one soft look. Just a breath of something warm.Trust me.She blinked, like she wanted to cry but didn’t dare.“I guess you were right… you beat me, huh?” I teased, stepping up to the big man. I grabbed a collar,one meant