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11
MILA
AKNOCK WOKE ME. I groaned and pulled my pillow over my face when I saw it was only seven a.m. I’d stayed up watching Russian sitcoms into the early hours of the morning, my skin flaring with the aftermath of Ronan’s mouth on mine. It made sleep impossible to find.I still couldn’t believe how quickly the kiss had escalated, that I orgasmed in a public hallway fromonly the press of his thigh. I would like to think it was the cyclone of teenage hormones and lust I suppressed, but I knew it was because we had chemistry. The kind that sizzled like the sun on hot pavement fromsimply being in the same room. And now I knew he felt it too. I could only assume his disturbed reaction afterward was due to himremembering I was only nineteen.Like it would help, I planned to tell himI was actually twenty.When the knocking continued, I sighed, tossed the comforter back, and padded across the room to answer the door, half-expecting Ivan to be standing on tRelated chapters
Lost in Moscow's Secret 12
Entering through the front doors of the restaurant I slept in a few nights ago was a different experience today. It may be timeworn and slightly dusty, but the delicious smells that hit me in the face made me salivate. Unlike the first time I was here, the place was now full.I locked eyes with a man I recognized from that night. The smoker. He leaned against the bar nursing a glass of clear liquid. His gaze flickered with something so harsh I grew cold. I needed to look up United States–Russia relations the first chance I got.Ronan removed my coat, and the glide of his fingers down the fabric of my dress dropped my heartbeat between my legs. “Zholtoye,” he said thoughtfully, his eyes on the dress, as if he’d been wondering what was beneath my coat. Yellow.My breath slowed. “Tebe . . . nravitsya zheltoye?” Do you like yellow?His gaze lifted, holding, pressing, burning mine while stealing every ounce of breath in my lungs. He never answered me,
Lost in Moscow's Secret 13
MILAI DIDN’T SEE RONAN FOR two days. I spent my time thinking about him, being the worst private investigator to exist, and deleting my papa’s and Ivan’s voicemails.Food—thoughtfully, vegan—was delivered like clockwork by the same teenage boy with poor customer service skills. This was a relief because, one, it fixed the issue of my limited funds, and two, it let me know Ronan hadn’t forgotten about me after that very intense and confusing kiss.I went to the opera house twice during busier hours, but each time I questioned someone about my mother, they stared speechlessly at me, made the sign of the cross on their chest, or simply turned and walked away. It was frustrating, to say the least, but also . . . disconcerting.My only relief was, I didn’t see the man with tattoos on his hands again, and I was much more vigilant while out and about.I shut the door, having just returned from sightseeing. One could say the priority to find information about my mother had become jumbled wi
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“Idealnaya,” he said roughly. Perfect.He gripped the flare of my hips, palms sliding up. A soft sigh escaped me as the pressure of his touch ached between my legs. He ran a thumb over the yellowing bruise on my waist, eyes flickering with violence. All of the fight in me died like a breeze against a flame, leaving something heavy and softer in its place.His gentle caress wrapped around my heart and tugged it toward him. “You feel this too,” I breathed into his mouth.He bit my bottomlip and responded, “Shut up,” but there wasn’t any heat in it.He caressed the bare curves of my ass, the skin on skin liquefying every nerve within me. His lips traveled down my throat to the tops of my breasts, and he nipped the skin before sliding a rough hand beneath my bra to squeeze the flesh.Pleasure rushed to my core, and I hummed against his neck. “Pomni.” His lips pressed against my ear. “Ti eto prosila.”I didn’t get time to dwell on the Russian words because he unclipped my bra and pulled it
Lost in Moscow's Secret 15
I WALKED DOWN THE AISLE stuffing my arms full of snacks: popcorn, chips, something sweet because salty. Obviously, I was eating my feelings, and the woman behind the counter was judging me the entire way.I ignored her, grabbing a bottle of cucumber-flavored soda to wash it all down with.After last night, the impending doomof going home and wearing Carter’s diamond ring tore at my every nerve, but I couldn’t just abandon my life forever. Not for a city that didn’t welcome me. Not even for a man who made me feel for the first time in my life.I wasn’t naïve enough to believe I could hold Ronan’s attention for more than a week. The thought of never seeing him again already ached like a hot coal in my chest. How bad would it be if I gave himmy virginity?I had to go home.It was the only lasting thing I had.I dropped my load on the counter. The cashier looked completely unimpressed with my purchases, but she didn’t say a word as she rang me up.I paid with one of my last ruble notes, p
Lost in Moscow's Secret 16
RONANITOSSED THE EMPTY SYRINGE to the floor when her body went limp in my arms. I’d kept the injection in my pocket since she ran into me on her first night here, waiting for the right moment to put it to use.And this was not the right fucking moment.Anger sent a rush of heat through me as I wrapped an arm around her legs and lifted her, her long blonde ponytail hanging lifelessly. Beneath her coat, she wore a bohemian skirt with a slit to her hip and some kind of blouse that didn’t reach her navel. So impractical for a Russian winter.As always.Her head rolled to rest against me, tear tracks wet on her cheeks. I looked away fromher face and turned to see Albert behind me, his cautious gaze on the girl in my arms. He was as emotionless as ice, but I could only assume the barely-there look in his eyes was reservation about what I might do to her.“I will take her,” he said. I was sure he would.Annoyance flared in my chest. “You’ll go clean up the mess with Adams. There’s blood all
Lost in Moscow's Secret 17
MILAMY MOUTH FELT AS DRY as cotton. A strand of hair tickled my cheek. I reached up to scratch it, but confusion clouded my mind when my hands refused to move.I peeled my eyes open, blinking against the light coming from the television in the otherwise dark and unfamiliar bedroom. My heartbeat trembled when I saw my wrists secured to the armrests of a wooden chair. I yanked against the ropes, but a soft moan brought my gaze to the TV on the dresser. I stared at the scene playing in front of my eyes, revulsion rising in my throat.The moan on the screen came fromme while I sat naked on Ronan’s lap, grinding on his hand. He recorded us.The video was shot from a high corner of my hotel room, on a camera that could have been there my entire stay. Humiliation churned in my stomach and twisted my heart like a wrung-out rag as I watched myself come and shudder against him.Then the video began to play again. I liked Ronan.I cared.And he was only using me.Tears blurred my vision while I
Lost in Moscow's Secret 18
MILA“YOU COULD HAVE AT LEAST tried to make an effort,” Ronan said like he was disappointed in me, examining the photo he took.This man was disturbed.The devil walking the streets of Moscow.He put his phone in his back pocket and dropped to his haunches in front of me. Untying the ropes on my wrists, he absently ran a thumb over the raw skin beneath. Those little caresses convinced me only yesterday he cared for me, but maybe that warmth was just a secret villains passed down to one another as a means of drawing their prey in before stomping their hearts beneath their feet.“Is your papa as demented as you?” I asked tonelessly.He looked at me, amused. “Not sure. Never met him. But if it makes you feel better, my mother was just as sadistic as yours.”My eyes flashed with resentment, but his expression and the fact he was close enough to slap me again held my response in. His gaze contained a warning within before he rose and turned off the amateur porn on the TV.I rubbed my wris
Lost in Moscow's Secret 19
IDIDN’T MOVE WHEN THE door shut behind him. A cool draft touched my bare skin and sent a shiver through me. I was naked and cold, my wrists secured uncomfortably above my head, but somehow, I managed to drift off to sleep.Self-loathing was exhausting.I woke to the sun slanting across my body and an uncomfortable pressure in my bladder.For the first time, I viewed the room in daylight. I lay in the middle of a king-size bed with an elaborate iron headboard and a white duvet. Heavy drapes, the color of blood, framed the window with a reading seat beneath. The space was large, conveying wealth in a traditionally Russian way. Seeing no personal effects, I surmised I was in a guest room.My eyes settled on a cracked wooden door leading into what I hoped was a bathroom. I really had to pee, and I wasn’t about to add urinating all over myself to my list of humiliations.I jerked against the ropes, trying to twist my wrists out of them, but they were so tight, all I managed to do was rub m
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