Page 28 of Gilded in Blood

Sorry I watched you fuck yourself with your toys. Sorry I made you come while telling you how tight and wet your pussy looked. Sorry I sucked your fingers clean because I was dying to know how you taste.

And by the way, I’ve been jerking off to that memory every day since.

Yeah. No.

She glances over at me. “Oh, I made cookies last night. Would you like some?”

I let out a low groan in response, not trusting myself with actual words.

She smiles like that’s a yes and trots back inside. A minute later she returns carrying a tray with a plate of chocolate chip cookies and two glasses of cold juice.

I take the tray from her without comment and set it down on the coffee table between the lounge chairs.

I remain standing, scanning the surrounding buildings and streets out of habit. This area is secure, but I never let my guard down.

She bites into a cookie and hums happily. “One thing I don’t miss about Manchester is the weather. It’s so unpredictable.”

“One minute it’s sunny, the next it’s pouring rain, then it’s cold and windy. All in the same hour. Here in New York, at least the weather commits. When it’s sunny, it’s properly sunny. When it rains, it rains. I like that.”

I don’t reply, but she doesn’t seem to need me to. She keeps talking, nibbling on her cookie, her voice light and easy. She chats about her classes, random observations about the city, little things. She’s… yapping. Cheerful, animated, nonstop.

The file said she was calm. Quiet. Reserved.

What a fucking joke.

This girl is anything but quiet. And strangely, I don’t hate it.

She finishes one cookie and reaches for another. “I miss my sister. And my sisters-in-law,” she continues.

“Even after Calina got married, we still made time for each other. Now everything is phone calls and ‘stay safe’ messages. I haven’t seen Calina in so long…”

She turns to look at me then, big hazel-gray eyes wide and hopeful. Doe eyes. The kind that could make a weaker man do stupid things.

“Please,” she says softly. “Can’t we just sneak over to see her? No one even knows I’m back in the States. We could slip into her place and slip back out.”

The plea hits me harder than it should. For one dangerous second, I actually consider it.

“No,” I say firmly, before the thought can take root.

Her face falls. “But⁠—”

“It’s not safe, Milana. We’re not risking it. You stay here.”

She looks at me for a long moment, disappointment clear in her expression, but she doesn’t push further. She turns back toward the city skyline, cookie forgotten in her hand.

I stay standing, arms crossed, fighting the ridiculous urge to give her what she wants just to see that light return to her eyes.

A sudden loud thud against the glass makes me move on pure instinct.

I grab Milana and yank her down to the floor, covering her body completely with mine.

My arm is wrapped around her head, my chest pressed to her back, gun already halfway drawn as I scan for threats.

Seconds tick by in heavy silence. Nothing. Just the faint flutter of wings.

I lift my head slowly. A small bird is lying on the balcony floor, stunned after flying straight into the glass.

“A fucking bird,” I mutter, relieved but still tense. I start to push myself up. I move to toss it away when she stops me.