AnyaI make my way to the kitchen, my steps lighter than they’ve been in days. Despite the odd tension at last night’s dinner, I find myself strangely at ease this morning. The penthouse is silent, and for the first time since I got here, I feel like I can breathe. I scoop coffee grounds into the machine, press the button, and the aroma fills the room. Last night’s dinner plays like a surreal montage in my head, punctuated by Bastien’s penetrating gaze and that unnerving yet electrifying moment on my knees beside him. I can’t make sense of it, of him, of how he’s affecting me. A flutter of something—nervousness, excitement, or perhaps even fear—courses through me, leaving me unsettled.The phrase plays over and over in my head as the coffee brews. There was something in his tone, an unspoken weight, that I can’t shake off. I’ve never been one to seek approval, but the warmth that spread through me at his words was as disconcerting as it was pleasurable.My musings are interrupted by
BastienMy office is usually a fortress of solitude, far removed from the chaos and obligations that come with being both Alpha and Kingpin of Las Vegas. But today, the leather chair seems more like a throne of thorns, each prickle a reminder of the enigma that is Anya.I can’t even bring myself to walk into my office, can’t bear to see the questions on her face about Valeria this morning.She’s on my territory, in my home, answering my damn phones, and yet she feels miles away, unreachable. I can hear the soft clicks of her typing, the hushed conversations as she answers the switchboard. Each sound is a taunt, a dare for me to come out and face whatever the hell is happening between us.But I don’t. I fucking can’t.I replay the events of last night’s dinner, then this morning. Her squirming at the dinner table, the way her body relaxed when I stroked her hair. Christ, even the way her tongue curled around my finger, how she sucked the digit without being prompted… Fuck, I need to f
AnyaA shiver of electricity passes between our lips as he kisses me, the world blurring away until there’s only Bastien. But then a jolt of realization hits me like a freight train, and I break off the kiss abruptly. My mind races back to family dinners, childhood memories, and my father’s stern face as he cautioned me never to reveal our true identity. He spoke of debts and enemies as if they were ghosts that haunted us, shadows that never quite went away. I never understood the gravity of those words until now.Bastien doesn’t know who I am. He doesn’t know I’m the daughter of the man who murdered his wife and fled to Russia. A man he has sworn to bring down at any cost.The guilt is a tidal wave, crashing over me, drowning me.What am I doing? A storm of emotions is waging war inside me. Panic, guilt, and an overwhelming sense of impending doom flood my veins as I jump to my feet.“Bastien, I can’t—,” I try to say, but the words catch in my throat. I can’t finish the sentence. I
BastienI’ve been pacing the room for the last two hours replaying the scene from last night over and over in my head. Everything in me is screaming how much of a fucking mistake this is, that I should just step back and not get too tangled up in Anya.But now that I’ve kissed her, now that I know what her submission literally fucking tastes like, I can’t. There’s no point in me trying to deny the fact that I want her, in every fucking way possible.“Man the fuck up,” I grumble under my breath and breathe out a sigh. I have to face this head on, there’s literally no backing out now.So, after a shower where I willed myself to not think about her and failing, I head to my walk-in to get ready for the day. What will her answer be when I walk inside the office, I wonder? I understand if she’d rather not go down that road with me, but just the thought alone has me feeling empty. I crave her submission the more I think about her, and it’s driving me fucking insane.After another deep brea
AnyaThe air in the office is thick with tension. I can feel it clinging to my skin, like a layer of dust that won’t wash off. Bastien’s voice cuts through the charged atmosphere as he barks orders into his phone, speaking rapidly in Greek. Every so often, I glance up from my desk, catching him in various states of emotion—mostly frustration and tense focus. And the entire room is charged with an energy so palpable that I could reach out and touch it. It has me on edge, wound tight, and I don’t even know why.But one word punches me in the gut like a fist, making my heart leap into my throat: “Popov.” He says it while speaking in Greek, probably assuming I wouldn’t understand. But that’s where he’s wrong. Because Popov isn’t just any name; it’s my name. My father’s name.The way he’s calling people and ordering them makes it seem like something huge is happening. Does my father know I’m here? Is he attacking? Then there’s the fact that Bastien mentioned not to go outside at all. So
AnyaThe clock on the wall ticks mockingly, its steady rhythm contrasting sharply with the erratic beating of my heart. It’s past midnight, and the penthouse is cloaked in a silence that’s louder than any noise. I’ve paced the length of the plush carpet in the living room so many times I’ve lost count, each step a testament to the anxiety gnawing at me.Bastien told me to stay away from the windows—just in case. The gravity of those words is not lost on me, hinting at the danger that lurks in the darkness of the city below. But my fear is not for myself or even for the secret that I’ve guarded so fiercely. It’s for Bastien—the man who has, against all odds, become the eye of my storm.Swallowing deeply as curiosity takes over, I peek outside hoping to see something, but not even the full moon shows me what I need to know.My father sent people here, I know it. It’s been weeks since I’ve gone missing in a city that belongs to his enemy. It bothers me that he’s taken so long to look for
BastienThe moment I have her in my grasp, the world narrows to the pounding of her heart against my arm, the sweet scent of her fear mingled with something else—desire, maybe. It’s a potent cocktail that makes my beast claw at the cage of my control.“Running from me?” The words tumble from my lips more as a purr, a deep vibration that I feel resonate within her as she shivers against me. I can’t help the smirk that curves my lips. “You should know better.”Every muscle in my body is taut, primed for the hunt, for the claiming. It’s a physical ache, a need that drowns out reason, that turns the world red in the light of the full moon. My wolf wants her, craves her in a way that’s as ancient as the bloodline coursing through my veins.I can feel the fight in her, the push and pull of her body against mine, trying to find purchase, to escape. It’s fucking maddening. My grip tightens reflexively, and a part of me—the darkest part—thrills at the whimper that escapes her lips.I feel her
BastienI stand alone in the aftermath of the full moon, its madness now just a lingering echo in my blood. The morning light seeps into the penthouse, casting a pale glow that does little to lift the weight from my shoulders. It’s the day after the nonsensical attack on Red Diamond, my casino—a battleground that saw no real battle, a storm that was all fury and no rain. The silence of the aftermath is a stark contrast to the chaos that rattled within me just hours ago.My focus is razor sharp, a necessary edge to slice through the confusion left by Popov’s half-hearted assault. It reeks of a feint, a misdirection, and it’s got me clawing for answers I’m not sure I want to find. The Russians have been silent for too long; I knew they’d come, but like this? It’s unlike Popov, and that unsettles me.I don’t fucking get it.Andrej approaches with a grim set to his jaw. He’s got the rundown, a detailed report of the ‘attack’—if you could even call it that. Barely a handful of men stormed