There are at least five on each arm. I remember each cut, and a shiver works its way down my spine.
“What are you looking at?”
When I don’t answer, he steps up behind me. “I asked you a question. What are you looking at?”
“How I look,” I whisper.
“And how is it you think you look?” I turn my head to look at him, but he follows my movement. “No. Don’t look at me. Look at yourself.”
He steps up closer, so close I can feel each inhale and exhale of his body.
In the reflection of the mirror, his eyes beg me if this is okay. I nod, and he puts his hands on my hips.
“Look at yourself.”
I do.
“You know what I see?”
I shake my head.
“I see a survivor. I see a strong woman who didn’t break. Yes, you are bruised, but you didn’t break. I see a woman who, even though she should be scared, offers herself so that no other woman would have to endure what she has. Now look at yourself. Do you still see anything else? On top of being the strongest woman I know, you’re also the most beautiful.”
“Hardly.”
One hand lands on my back, tilting me forward. The other shimmies up my T-shirt, exposing my panties to him.
I catch his stare in the mirror as he slowly lowers them down my ass until they pool on the floor.
“Is this okay?” he asks, and a part of me melts right there. Even through his haze, he won’t take.
I nod.
“Words.”
“Yes, Cyrus.”
“You are the sun. You shine brighter than anything in this universe. You burn so hot that when I touch you, I’m sure I’ll melt.” His hand parts my legs, and then his finger teases my seam. When he dips inside, I swear I will combust from the heat growing inside me. “See that flush? See the way you look? The haze in your eyes.” He pumps his finger in and out. “You are gorgeous. This is the most beautiful you have ever looked.”
I hear him moving behind me, and then he leans closer to me, flicking his tongue on the skin by my ear.
He removes his fingers, and just as I’m about to beg him not to, he thrusts to the hilt inside me. I lean forward over the counter, my face close to my own reflection. My pupils are wide.
He thrusts in and out of me like a possessed man.
“Like this . . .” He fucks me harder. “Like this, with me inside you . . .” Thrust. “You are perfect.” Thrust. “You are everything.” Thrust. “You are my light.” Thrust. “Entee albi.”
His moves become more animalistic at that, and I know we are both close.
Together, we fall over the edge.
48
Ivy
The plan is in motion. We are heading to the location we found on Boris’s phone. Apparently, and I don’t know all the details, Cyrus hired some ridiculous hacker to break into Boris’s phone. From there, they impersonated Boris, saying the girl was ready . . . the girl being me.
I’m not sure exactly what was said about me, but after Cyrus received the text, he threw stuff. Broke a table and didn’t seem too happy. Yet the plan is still on, so it must have worked.
When I asked, he didn’t say one word about it. He just told me not to worry and that he would take care of me.
Whoever we are meeting will be ambushed, but that’s not how the plan will go down.
I’m still bait.
So that means, right now, I’m chained up again.
The only difference is these chains are for show.
They aren’t secure, and I have a gun on my back. Not that I think I will use it, but the security of knowing it’s there is worth it.
I’m still not sure how much I like this plan, or if I think it will work, but either way, I support Cyrus.
It feels like an eternity as I wait, arms fatigued from being behind my back.
“Incoming,” I hear, and I know that Cyrus isn’t in the room right now.
Instead, one of Matteo’s men is here with me. Matteo thought that they would send a man in first to make sure I was here. This is the part of the plan that should scare me.
But instead of letting it, I breathe in slowly, not allowing it to.
My heart beats rapidly in my chest as I hear the sound of footsteps, and then I hear more. Craning my neck, I see five men walking toward me, and in the center is a handsome man in a suit.
This must be the leader. He’s getting closer and closer, and all the nerves in my body feel like they are on edge.
“Magnificent.” He’s close enough that I can smell his cologne.
“Where is Boris?” He turns to Matteo’s man. “He did well.”
“Boris is on his way,” Matteo’s man answers. Lies, more like it. Boris will be going nowhere anytime soon, but he plays his part perfectly in the deception.