جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 28

“Tell me, have we fucked before?”“Yes—”My eyes widened. “Wait—no. I mean—yes, but—not like you think—”The words scrambled over themselves, trying to backpedal, trying to correct, but my mouth wouldn’t cooperate. I was trying to explain the unexplainable, and the silence between us shattered like glass.Elian didn’t move. For a heartbeat. Then two. His piercing blue eyes locked on mine. And then he closed the distance in a single step and kissed me.His mouth found mine like it had been there before and remembered the path by instinct. My knees buckled under the force of it. His hand slid to the base of my neck. The breath was punched from my lungs as a memory of that reckless night shoved itself to the surface. The hotel room.The wine.The fury at my cheating partner. The crash of bodies needing something more than truth.I stood frozen, caught in the moment.

My blood turned to ice, heart skidding into my throat.Isla leaned against the doorway like she owned the place, arms crossed, a smirk curling at the corner of her mouth. “Seems like I'm late to the party.”I scrambled, dragging the sheet up over my chest as if it could somehow hide the fact that Elian’s body was still very much flush against mine. “Oh my God.”“So much for a warning, huh,” Isla said, dry as dust.Elian didn’t so much as flinch. In fact, he laughed. A really loud, shameless laugh.“She’s a cop,” Isla continued with a grimace, clearly relishing her role as buzzkill. “Or were you too busy fucking her knee-deep to notice the badge shoved up her—”“She’s not a cop anymore,” Elian cut in smoothly, still breathless, his arm casually slung around my bare shoulder like this wasn’t a living nightmare. “She’s a journalist now. Technically.”Isla arched an eyebrow. “That’s supposed to be better?”Elian shr

The matte-black jet waiting on the tarmac made a lot more sense.We parked directly beside it, not a terminal in sight. The driver—Mikkel, I learned when Elian addressed him by name—stepped out and started unloading our bags. Then he circled back to open my door like this was just a regular Tuesday and not an actual Bond movie.Elian stepped out, casual as ever, like this was all entirely expected.I slid out of the car, brushing my jeans, and crossed my arms against the wind sweeping across the tarmac. “You have a plane.”“Yes,” Elian’s voice was all silk and steel. “Quite a nice one.”I looked up at him, squinting. “Stolen?”He scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. This isn’t Grand Theft Auto, Maeve. I didn’t steal a jet.” He smiled. That slow, dangerous smile that meant trouble. “I stole the money that bought it.”I stared at him. Just stared. Blankly.In the past thirty minutes, he’d casually confessed to

There were two cars waiting when we landed. Sleek black Ferraris idled at the edge of the tarmac, engines low and menacing like they were waiting for someone more important than us.It took a double-glance at the Port Bellagio plates to remind myself I’d actually gone through with this reckless plan.I stepped off the jet with Elian at my side and Isla trailing behind, her steps uneven. She clung to his arm with pale knuckles and a wince behind her lashes.“Why are there two cars?”One of the blond, broad-shouldered twins already strode ahead, answering without breaking pace. “She’s riding separately,” he said, jerking his chin toward Isla. “Too sick for crowds right now.”I couldn’t remember which twin was which, just that one of them was named Mikkel. It might’ve been this one. Or the one still behind us. Impossible to tell when they both looked like they were carved out of the same mountain.“Motion sickness?” I aske