Page 70 of Gilded in Blood

I refill it immediately. He finishes the second glass just as fast, letting out a shaky breath when he’s finished.

I swallow hard. “You said my brothers sent you to extract me from England. Is that true?”

He nods. “Yes.”

“How am I supposed to believe that?”

He braces both hands on the kitchen island, and my gaze catches the tattoo on the inside of his forearm. The Russian diminutive for Ilya.

“I was abducted on my way to the airport,” he says hoarsely. “I never made it to England.”

The world tilts.

If this is Ilya… then who the hell has been with me this whole time? The man I woke up in his bed this morning.

The man who blindfolded me. The man I let inside me. The man I’m slowly, terrifyingly falling for.

I look at the man in front of me, and feel like I’m going to be sick.

I have a lot of questions, but he looks seconds away from collapsing.

“You need a doctor,” I say quickly, pulling out my phone. I dial 911 with trembling fingers.

I stare at him as I wait for the call to connect, my mind spinning.

Is this a dream? Am I imagining all of this?

Because if this is the real Ilya… then who left me that note on the bed this morning?

CHAPTER TWENTY

Kirill

Michael leans back in his chair, nodding like a bobblehead.

“Fine. I’ll take your advice and leave Milana alone for now. We’ll go with your plan.”

I don’t show the relief that floods through me. The sound of her name in his mouth makes my jaw clench so hard it aches.

If I didn’t need him alive a little longer, if I hadn’t spent the last few weeks trying to figure out a way to keep her safe without blowing everything up, I would have put a bullet in his head the second he said her name.

The thought of him even thinking about touching her makes something violent and ugly rise in my chest.

I should be in bed right now with my girl. Instead, I’m here wasting time with this entitled little shit who inherited guns and money from daddy dearest and thinks starting a war is a good idea.

This morning, waking up with Milana pressed against me, her soft body curled into my chest, her breath warm on my skin… it felt so fucking good.

I never thought I’d want that. Never thought I’d crave it. But now I do. I want her in my bed every single morning.

I want her scent on my sheets. I want to wake up and pull her closer instead of slipping out before she opens her eyes.

It makes no sense. I don’t do this. I don’t yearn. But with each passing day, my need for her grows stronger. My resolve is dying.

Last night I even kissed her. It was just a brush of my lips against hers when she was half-asleep.

I don’t kiss. But with her, I wanted it. I wanted to taste her mouth, to claim it, to feel those soft lips under mine.

And when I finally did it, it felt better than I ever imagined.