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“Actually, that’s what I’m calling about.” “Money?” “Men. One in particular.” I wait for an explanation. When it doesn’t come, I say, “Are we going to play twenty questions, or are you going to tell me what the hell you’re talking about?” Sloane takes a deep breath. She blows it out. Then, in a tone like she almost can’t believe it herself, she says, “I’m getting married.” I blink an unnecessary amount of times. It doesn’t help clarify anything. “I’m sorry, I thought I just heard you say you’re getting married.”
I decide on a whim that I have to meet him. I bet he’s putting Valium into her morning coffee, the evil genius! He’s spiking her afternoon wine with Xanax! God, why did I never think of that? “Okay, Sloane. I’m in. I’ll see you Friday.”
Then, just to totally cross all the wires in my brain, he pulls me into a big bear hug, lifting me right off my feet in the process. I wonder if my sister will mind when I start calling her fiancé Daddy?
Declan looks at her with so much need and devotion burning in his eyes, I’m embarrassed to be standing there. Then he grabs her and gives her a passionate kiss. He pulls away and stares down into her eyes, all burning heat and hunger. He growls, “Say yes, and I swear every day will be better than the last, you bloody stubborn woman. You have my heart. My soul. My life. I want you to have my name as well, and wear my ring so everyone who sees you knows you belong to me. I’m so proud to be your man, I want the whole goddamn world to know you’re mine.”
I swing my legs over the side of the bed, sit up, and squint at her. “You’re really in love with him, aren’t you?” “Yes. It’s horrible. I mean, it’s wonderful, but also horrible, because…” “You’re not in control anymore.”
I’m almost thrown back onto the mattress. Despite my total shock and the force of her embrace, I manage to stay upright. Then she bursts into tears, leaving me at a complete loss. I say tentatively, “Um. What’s happening now?” She wails, “I’m sorry is what’s happening! I’ve been a terrible sister, and you’re being so nice, and I can’t believe we haven’t seen each other since your birthday a few years ago!” Three years ago, to be precise. Not that I’ll ever be able to forget it.
She bites her lower lip, tears spill over the edge of her bottom lids, and what the fuck has happened to my sister? Daddy Declan must be laying some serious pipe to have turned this stone-cold savage into such a sweetheart.
She’s young, slim, and extremely awkward. Something about her is fascinating. I can’t look away. Because of the hair and the dress, it takes me a while to recognize her. But then I note the glasses she’s wearing and suck in a breath. It comes out in a furious hiss.
“There are protocols, lass. I can’t…” He makes a vague gesture that includes the two of us. I get what he’s trying to say and am instantly horrified. “Oh, shit! Oh my god, you’re not allowed to flirt with me! Not that you would, I’m just saying. You’ll get in trouble if you even look at Sloane’s kid sister sideways. Ugh, no wonder I make you so uncomfortable.” He stares at me for a beat, then says softly, “That’s not quite the word I’d use to describe it.”
Without waiting for Spider to humiliate me further by grabbing my wrist and dragging me away, I turn and walk out, keeping my head held high despite the rock in my throat and the water welling in my eyes. So help me god, this is the last time I’ll ever speak to her again.
I don’t know if Declan and his entourage have already gone to bed or if they went somewhere else after I left the restaurant, because I didn’t come straight here. I drove around the island, thinking. Trying to clear my head. Of her. The waif.
I’m angry with myself that I frightened her. I’m even more angry that I care that I frightened her. I never care about scaring anyone. No matter their gender. I’ve been the recipient of people’s fear for so long, it no longer means anything to me. But hers did. I hate that.
Everything about this girl is in the details. She’s not tall, like Declan’s woman. She’s not flashy, or curvy, or sexy, or anything obvious that would catch a man’s eye. She’s like a little bird that looks plain at first glance. Only when you focus your attention can you see the incredible intricacy of her feathers. The ring of gold around her pupils. The flecks of it all through her sweet brown eyes. The fine arch of her brows. The perfect bow of her upper lip. The way the small bump on the bridge of her nose makes her glasses sit slightly askew. The way light reflects off her poreless skin,
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This isn’t like you. You’ve never done this before. What’s wrong with your head? It’s filled with her.
“What’s that word you keep calling me?” I know it’s not the most pressing question, but I’m under extreme duress, so I’m giving myself some slack on this one. “Malyutka.” He draws it out, enunciating the syllables. Whatever language he’s speaking, it’s masculine, rough, and sexual. I hate myself for loving it. “What does it mean?” “Roughly … little one. Baby.”
He shushes me softly. He reaches out and caresses my cheek, cooing a stream of gently spoken words. “Ty v bezovasnoshti so mnoy, malyutka. Ya ne prichinu tebe vreda.” Russian. It’s Russian he’s speaking.
Recap: a huge, beautiful Russian man broke into my bedroom. Ten feet away from a row of toilets, he gave me one hundred thousand dollars and told me I had pretty eyes. He can appear and disappear like smoke, smells like an ancient forest, and has a voice, a body, and a face that make me want him to do bad things to me.
“Riley Rose,” I say breathlessly, feeling electrocuted. Feeling every beat of my heart and every hot pulse of blood roaring through my veins. Why am I not screaming for the guards? As soon as I ask myself that question, I know the answer: I don’t want the guards to come.
Gazing at me like he’s witnessing his first sunrise, he lightly sweeps his thumb over my top lip. He whispers gruffly, “You’re made of fine materials, Riley Rose.” Jesus fucking yellow penguins, this man is unreal. Sensing he’d tell me anything I wanted to know right now, I insist, “What’s your name?” When he moistens his lips, I think I’ll pass out. “Malek.”
When I get up in the morning, a single long-stemmed white rose rests on the pillow beside my head.
“Aw, don’t be sore. What’s your favorite word?” That stumps me. I mull it over for a while as we drive, passing more gigantic estates set back behind locked gates and tall hedges. Bermuda seems to be entirely populated by paranoid rich people. “Serendipity.” “Serendipity?” “Yeah, because of the way it sounds, and also because I like its meaning.” Spider nods. “Happy accident.”
“So you’re telling me you’re a good guy?” After a pause, he says darkly, “No. I’m not good. In fact, Riley Rose, I’m the worst man you’ll ever meet.” He stares at me with the truth of it burning in his eyes.
While I sit slumped in the passenger seat, replaying everything in my head. Especially Malek’s nickname: the Hangman. I try hard not to imagine how he got it.
Not his victim. His sister-in-law. Family. Thinking of what I’m going to do next, I feel better. I suppose it could be called poetic justice. Or serendipity, a word I’ve always liked. Whatever the name, the result will be identical.
“You’re safe here. Nothing ties this place to Declan. No one knows it exists. You’re safe, lass. I promise.” He’s convinced what he’s saying is true, but there’s a worried voice inside my head reminding me that promises are made to be broken. And in only a few hours, I’ll be proven right. Because I wake up with Malek’s huge hand clamped over my mouth and his furious green eyes glaring down into mine.
Maybe he’s right about me being insane, because rather than terrifying, I find his indecision understandable. He’s not the first man I’ve driven to the brink of murder. He’s just the most capable of actually going through with it. “Oh, one more thing—” “I know a way to keep that mouth quiet,” he snaps. Then he kisses me.
“My little bird has claws.” “Call me a bird one more time, and I’ll—” “What?” I demand, pressing my chest to hers so I feel her heart pounding right through my shirt. “You’ll do what? Shoot me? Stab me? Drown me in a sea of words?” “Fuck you.” “Is that an invitation?” “You wish, you arrogant prick!” She’s so mad, she’s almost spitting.
“One more thing. You have to kiss me back. Lie there like a cold fish, and your friend Spider eats a bullet.” “I take back what I said about you being a gentleman.”
Through clenched teeth, I say, “How the fuck did he get in?” “I don’t know. We were locked down. None of the alarms went off. He’s a bloody ghost, that one.” “Kieran?” “Down. Shot three times. Still breathing, but it doesn’t look good.” He pauses to gulp more air. “There’s more. It’s bad.” I brace myself for the worst, which is exactly what I get. “Before that Russian bastard ran off with Riley … I…” His voice breaks. “I accidentally shot her. It was meant for him, but she got in the way.” Breath rushes out of my lungs in an audible whoosh. My life flashes in front of my eyes. When Sloane
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“Live, little bird,” Mal says, close to my ear, his voice low and urgent. “Fly back to me.”
“Will I be okay?” “You lost a kidney. And your spleen. And a lot of blood.” “Is that a yes or a no?” “It’s a maybe. How do you feel?” I think about it, searching for the perfect word to describe the sensation of extreme weakness, overwhelming exhaustion, and throbbing, bone-deep pain. “Shitty.”
“A place we use, off the books. You had surgery. You’ve been given analgesics, antibiotics, and hydration through IV. Blood transfusions, too.” He pauses. “You shouldn’t be alive.” My voice faint, I say, “I told you I was stubborn.” “Yes. You did.”
“She’s in Russia.”
He would never speak to me with such disrespect unless his heart was involved. He sinks into the chair beside him, drops his head into his hands, and groans. After a moment, I say quietly, “She doesn’t seem like your type.” He exhales. “I’ve never met a woman who could make me blush before.” Jesus Christ. Anger makes my tone harder than it should be. “Do I know everything I need to know about this situation?” He jerks his head up and stares at me beseechingly. “I never laid a finger on her. I swear on my mother’s grave. Nothing happened. She doesn’t even know.” “You’re saying it’s one-sided?”
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“Why go to all this trouble for someone you were threatening to kill? You could’ve just let me die back there and been done with me.” As if he thinks he’s making perfect sense, he says calmly, “You took a bullet for me. I’m responsible for you now.” “I’m not lucid enough to unravel that logic.”
“Also, with only one kidney, you can never drink alcohol again.” I close my eyes and groan. “I think I’d rather be dead.” “Look on the bright side.” “There is no bright side!” “Think of all the money you’ll save. And you’ll never have another hangover.”
He closes his eyes for a moment, shaking his head. “I have to go out for a while. I’ll try to be back before dark.” I start to panic all over again. “You’re leaving me here alone? What if I die while you’re gone?” “Then I suppose I’ll have some digging to do when I get back.” My mouth drops open. “Okay, that was just mean.”
“Why did you take a bullet for me?” “I don’t know.” “Yes, you do. Tell me the truth.” His voice is low and urgent. I imagine those beautiful green eyes gazing down at me with their usual penetrating intensity and wish with all my heart that I didn’t currently look like I’ve been sleeping under a bridge. I take a deep breath, let it out, and tell him the ridiculous truth in a voice so small, he probably can’t even hear it. “Because I didn’t want you to die.”
“I stood at the head of your bed when they opened your stomach to get the bullet and your damaged organs out. I gave you sponge baths while you were drugged. I changed your clothes, changed your bedsheets, and helped the nurse change your catheter when it got plugged. There isn’t an inch of your body I’m not already familiar with.” I squeeze my eyes shut and chant, “Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.” “You’re not dreaming.”
“Excuse me for not being deadened to all sense of humanity, Mr. International Assassin, but my body is not meat to me.” He examines my expression for a moment. “Are you angry because you think I might’ve touched you inappropriately?” “Jesus!” “Because I didn’t. I would never take advantage like that. I’m a psychopath, not a pervert. I believe strongly in consent.” “Well, that’s tremendous news! I feel so much better now!”
“And there are many things I’d like to get your specific consent for, Riley Rose, but touching you while you’re unconscious isn’t one of them.” I thought he’d mindfucked me before, I really did. But that leaves my brain twisted into such a knot, I lose the power of speech.
“Mal, I can’t. I can’t get naked in front of you. If this wound doesn’t kill me, the embarrassment will.” “Embarrassment over what?” “You seeing me naked!” “I’ve already seen you naked. I just explained that.” “You haven’t seen me naked while I’m awake!”
“Thank you.” That stops him cold. He glances up at me, his eyes dark, his brows drawn together. Storm clouds gather over his head. “Don’t thank me.” “Why not?” “You were shot because of me.” “I’m alive because of you.”
“Are you this bossy with all your patients?” “Are you this mouthy with all your doctors?” “Only the ones I like.” There’s a pause where he simply stands and stares at me, his eyes warm. Then a miracle occurs: he smiles. It’s beautiful. He murmurs, “Go to sleep, Riley Rose.”
When I wake up in the morning, Mal is sleeping on his side next to me in bed, his arm under my neck, a leg thrown over both of mine, his big warm hand splayed over my belly. Right over my scar.
After a while, he speaks again. This time, his tone has changed. It’s grown dark. “Don’t try to run away.” I whisper, “I won’t.” “You should.” “Why?” “You know why.”
“I know you’re not going to hurt me.” “I want to.” “No, you don’t.” His voice turns into a wolf’s growl. “Oh, yes, I do. I want to hold you down and bite you and fuck you until you’re sobbing. I want to come deep inside your pussy, your mouth, and that perfect little ass. I want to see my teeth marks on your tits and my fingerprints on your thighs and the tears in your eyes when I put you on your knees and make you gag on my cock. Don’t get it wrong, sweet girl. I want to fucking devour you.”
feel like we’re the only people in the world. In a make-believe, fairy-tale world of our own design, where no one exists but the two of us. Standing beside me, looking out at the endless view, Mal says quietly, “Mikhail and I grew up here. The Antonovs have lived in this house for four generations.” He pauses. “Well, not this house. The original cabin my great-grandfather built burned down. Hit by lightning. Mik and I rebuilt it from the ground up.”
There’s an ache inside my chest that’s growing rapidly. “Mal?” “Yes?” “I’m sorry about your brother.” He stiffens. “I’m not saying that because I don’t want you to kill Declan. I mean, I don’t want you to kill Declan, but that’s a separate thing. I just … I’m sorry for your loss. Even though we’re not that close, if my sister died, part of me would, too.” After a moment of thought, I admit reluctantly, “Maybe the best part.”
Through gritted teeth, the cords in his neck standing out, he says incredulously, “Have my way with you?” “You know what I mean. The point I’m making is that people who aren’t family and aren’t sleeping together but who look out for each other and take care of each other and make sacrifices for each other they wouldn’t normally make are called friends. Deal with it.”
