IT WAS TOO LATE to run. He had me, those big hands holding me in the air like a toy. He could snap my neck in a heartbeat or bundle me into a car and take me off to interrogate me. The mission was over before it had begun. I stared back into those cold gray eyes, unable to breathe—

And then his eyes changed. That hard, glittering heat I’d seen in his hotel room. He did know something was different.

And he liked it.

His eyes narrowed. He dipped his head. Oh God! He’s going to—

And then the lips I’d been dreaming about for two years were coming down on mine.

The first kiss was quick... or it was meant to be. Just a taste, a teaser for the main event. But as soon as that hard upper lip brushed against my softness, something happened. It was as if a million pink butterflies took flight in my chest, diving and wheeling through my body. I melted. Then that soft lower lip was dragging across mine and a low moan escaped my throat. I clutched at his arms, my whole body thrashing in his hands.

He drew back and I opened my eyes. I felt drunk. I’d been expecting hard, brutal lust, not...that.

Those gorgeous gray eyes regarded me from six inches away. His head tilted suspiciously and he brushed a finger across his lips. Neither had he. His hands hardened on my hips. He glowered at me with sudden doubt and confusion….

... and then lust.

He made a sound I’ll never forget, a growl that came right from his chest like a beast who’s caught the scent of its prey. One hand shot up between my shoulder blades. The other slid round to my ass. Suddenly I was tipped backwards, my hair flying out and my dress flaring up. I came to rest almost lying across his thigh, looking up at him. I’d been swept off my feet, like some Russian countess in a historical romance, just before the hero—

I drew in my breath just as his lips found mine again.

This time, it was different. It was urgent, almost violent. He needed me, now, his lips searching and pressing, spreading me open. I melted in a whole different way, opening and responding, lost. The hand on my back roved up through my hair and held the back of my head, silken strands tangling in his fingers as we twisted and moved. His tongue traced the edge of my lips and then plunged inside, finding mine and leading it into a dance. I’d never been kissed like this before: he was so knowing and confident. And the more I weakened, the more I gave myself up to it, the more turned on he got. I could feel it in the way his hand kneaded my ass, the way he pulled me against his chest. I was his without question. He was utterly in control. And yet somehow, at the same time... I was making him lose control.

My hand slid up over his stubbled cheek, exploring him. My fingers slid into his hair, pushing it back from his forehead—

And I felt something there. The raised line of a scar, slashing diagonally across his forehead, hidden by his hair—

He grabbed my wrist and pulled my hand away. Something he doesn’t want to be reminded of. I explored his body, instead, running my hands over his back, his shoulders….

He finally broke the kiss and stood there panting, staring down at me. His eyes were hooded with lust, but there was anger there, too. Shock, at how he’d lost control. For a second, I thought he was going to hurl me aside, that I’d displeased him.

Then he pulled me upright and put an arm around my waist. “We’re leaving,” he told his bodyguards, and they fell smoothly into formation around us, two in front and two behind.

The kiss had brought the arrivals hall to a standstill and now we were surrounded by gawping onlookers. I was hotly aware of the hundreds of eyes on me. I’d never felt so on display and all I wanted to do was run and hide. But what made it bearable, what made me feel safe, wasn’t the four hulking bodyguards around us. It was Konstantin’s arm around my waist. As we started to walk, he held me so close to his side that our hips rubbed, as if he couldn’t bear to be separated from me by even a millimeter of air. And one glower from him was enough to make the crowd fall away in front of us.

He marched me to a black Mercedes that was parked right outside the door. As I slid across the soft leather seat, it hit me that I’d done it. I’d met him and he’d accepted me as Christina. I was in.

And I realized I’d completely forgotten about the mission as soon as his lips touched mine. Jesus, what’s wrong with me?

We pulled away and joined the freeway. We were so cocooned in heavy steel and thick glass that there was barely any road noise and it was easy to think that we weren’t moving at all. But when I looked up, the landscape was whipping past outside. As the high of the kiss faded, reality started to set in. I was alone with a man everyone feared, and every second took me further and further from my friends, the FBI, and everything I knew.

A noise that was familiar. An important sound, but I was so distracted it just bounced off my perception because it didn’t apply to me. It came again. Again.

He touched my arm and I turned to look. “Christina!” he said, insistent.

Shit! That’s what I’d been hearing. My new name! My brain had just tuned it out. My heart jumped up into my mouth and I felt my face go pale. How could I have made such a basic mistake? I can’t pull this off! He’s going to find out!

“Sorry,” I said. “I—Just—” I searched my brain for an explanation and thought of the only time I’d been in hospital, when I’d had a bad kidney infection, age six. “Whenever I heard my name, in hospital, it meant someone was coming to jab me with a needle.”

His arm immediately scooped behind my back and hooked around me. His eyes lit up with a protective gleam and my fear melted away into a warm glow. Then I saw him frown, and he glanced at his arm as if surprised at what he’d done.

A moment later, we turned onto a private road. Trees had been used to cleverly hide the fence but I caught a glimpse of it, eight feet tall and topped with razor wire. Men in suits with that somber, no-nonsense look of former military patrolled its length, huge Rottweilers padding alongside them. My stomach flipped over. I knew they were there to keep enemies out, but they’d be just as effective at keeping me in. If Konstantin found out I wasn’t Christina, there’d be no hope of making a run for it.

The car swung around a sweeping driveway and as we broke through the trees, there it was. My breath caught in my throat and I tried not to stare. I’m meant to be used to this.

The mansion was a lot like him: imposingly big and unashamedly grand: three stories and two wings, doors that must have been twelve feet high framed by pillars too thick for me to wrap my arms around. It was outwardly cold, built from dark gray stone, but warm light from chandeliers spilled out through the windows and I could see the gleam of polished wood floors and the flicker of open fires. The place must have been at least a hundred years old and I wondered why he’d chosen it: he could have bought a huge, modern penthouse in the city for the same money.

Even as the car crunched to a halt on the gravel, a guard was already stepping forward to open my door. Konstantin seemed to be in a hurry to get inside, one of his big hands pressing on the small of my back to gently guide me. Two more guards were holding the massive front doors open for us... God, how many guards did he have? There were so many of them, all with the same heavy muscle, expensive suit, and the bulge of a gun, that their faces started to blend into one. It brought home just how serious the cold war between the different mafia families was.

There was one guard, though, who didn’t look like the others. He was a little older than the rest, with a few streaks of silver in his short, black hair. He wasn’t as heavily built as Konstantin but he was tall, lean, and good-looking in a craggy, old-fashioned kind of a way. I knew him from years of watching Konstantin: Grigory was the head bodyguard and also handled all of Konstantin’s arms deals.

As Grigory fell into step beside us, he was looking directly at me. At first, I ignored it and focused on Konstantin as he hustled me along. Why was he in such a hurry? But every time I glanced at Grigory, he was still staring. Shit! Could he sense something different about me?

We swept inside and into a tiled, double-height hall. A grand staircase rose in front of us, storybook-huge, its polished wooden banisters as thick as my thigh. I had a crazy urge to slide down them. Flanking the stairs were a pair of antique vases, each as big as me and probably worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. I did my best not to stare at everything.

The doors closed behind us. Konstantin swung me around to face him. I looked up at him... and gulped. That look was back, diamond-hard but scorching, sending waves of raw heat thrumming down through my body to my groin until I wanted to twist and writhe and melt into a puddle on the floor. Now I knew why he’d been in a hurry to get inside. He’d needed to know I was safe within this fortress of a house... because then, he could enjoy me.

He put his hands on my shoulders, the heat of him throbbing into me through my dress. Then he slid his hands under my arms and smoothed down my body in one slow, continuous movement. His fingers hooked around my back and the heels of his hands brushed the soft sides of my breasts as they passed. The room went so quiet, I could hear my intake of breath. He followed the curve of me in at the waist, thumbs brushing either side of my navel, then out, over my hips, the warmth of his hands soaking into me and making me squirm as he passed my groin. He went as far as he could reach, right down to the hem of my dress, his fingers toying with the backs of my stockinged thighs, and only then, reluctantly, did he stop.

As he brought his hands back up, I felt them twitch and his breathing went tight. I glanced down. Christina’s dress was tight on my bust and I was showing a lot of cleavage. He was staring right at it and—his hands twitched again, squeezing my shoulders. And he’s having to resist the urge to just fill his hands with my breasts. I went weak inside.

He used a knuckle under my chin to gently tip my head back and looked me in the eye. His gaze was clouded with lust. “You’ve changed,” he muttered thickly.

Oh God. A chill rippled through me. It didn’t reduce the heat, just made me more aware of it: peaks of scalding lust alternating with troughs of icy fear.

Konstantin frowned. He gripped my chin and slowly turned my head from side to side, studying me. “There’s something different about you.”

Shit!

The squeak of a shoe sole on tiles, off to one side. I whipped my head around, startled. I’d forgotten there was anyone else in the room. Grigory and two other guards were still there and Grigory was glaring right at me. He knows!

My eyes snapped back to Konstantin, my heart hammering. His frown grew deeper and the fear slammed through me, like being dropped into ice water. But then he slid his hand through my hair, every brush of his fingertips sending pleasure fluttering through my body. Just like at the airport, I felt drunk, my brain bathed in adrenaline one second, endorphins the next. Was he about to kiss me or kill me?

He gave a sort of dismissive hmph, a quick shake of his head...and pushed me away. I went staggering back across the tiles, eyes screwed shut in fear, waiting for a bullet to rip through me—

My back whumped against the thick wooden post at the bottom of one of the banisters. And when I opened my eyes in shock, I saw Konstantin marching towards me, his eyes narrowed with need.

He hadn’t been pushing me away. He just wanted me up against something solid.

I didn’t even have time to draw a breath before his lips were on me, pressing, searching, drawing me up onto tiptoes to meet him. My head was tipped right back, my hair cushioning my head from the hard wood. He grabbed my hips and then slid his palms up my body, bringing the hem of my dress with them. I could feel the expensive fabric sliding higher and higher, the cool air of the room wafting against lacy stocking top and then bare skin. I felt my cheeks start to color: there were still three guards watching this. But the embarrassment evaporated as it met the greater heat of the kiss.

It was a dance. At first it was between two practiced partners, open-mouthed and hungry. Each brush of his tongue against my upper lip, each soft nip of his teeth against my lower was a beat in a rising rhythm. I followed him without even being aware of it, molding my body to his, grabbing his upper arms and exploring that gorgeous, hard upper lip with my softer ones.

But I didn’t know the steps. I couldn’t match him, couldn’t fight him the way Christina must have. I realized too late that with her, this would have been a violent clash, a battle for dominance that he always won. I just melted. And that made him stop and break the kiss, frowning at me from just a few inches away. He ran his thumb over my lips, looking confused, and I was lost between oh God, I’ve blown it and please please kiss me again.

His lips came down on mine again and this time he was the teacher and I was the pupil. He led me, toyed with me, showed me what he liked and then rewarded me when I got it right. My hands found his shoulders and clung on, my legs weakening. Oh God it was amazing, that hard upper lip plundering me but the softness of the lower one stroking mine so gently. He was so confident, he knew so well how to pleasure me, how to hold me tight and kiss me deeply, how to tease my tongue with his. And yet each time I responded, however timidly, he gave a groan of lust that vibrated right to my core. I was different to Christina... and he liked it.

I was only dimly aware of his hand sliding up my thigh and pushing the dress even higher. Then he squeezed my ass through my panties and I started wondering how much the guards could see. When his fingers hooked under the side of my panties, my eyes sprang open and I broke the kiss, panting hard. “I—”

My protest was cut off by him skimming his fingertips up over the lips of my sex. I could feel them swell under his touch, knew he could feel the slickness between them. “Konstantin—” I croaked.

He didn’t answer, but with his other hand he grabbed the shoulder strap of my dress and wrenched it down over my arm. The neck stretched and, since the bra was built in, my breast was revealed, almost down to the nipple. I gave a strangled groan of horror: the hand between my thighs was sort of hidden by our bodies, but I was about to flash the guards. “They’re watching,” I panted.

His voice was a heavy rasp, his eyes hooded. “You never minded an audience before.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but he chose that moment to plunge two fingers up into me and I arched my back and moaned—

Running footsteps, then an apologetic cough from behind him. Konstantin twisted around with a sound that was almost a snarl. But he didn’t yell at the man who’d run into the room, just waited, his massive chest rising and falling as he panted.

The man said just three words. “It’s Ralavich. Here.”

Konstantin just stared at him in disbelief. As he took it in, his face turned...bleak. Haunted in a way that made me want to wrap my arms around him.

Then his jaw tightened and his eyes went so mercilessly, bitterly cold I drew in my breath and pressed my back against the banister. I’d glimpsed a warmer side to him but this was the opposite. This was him filled with raw, jagged hate. Ralavich. I knew that name.

“I need to deal with this,” muttered Konstantin. And he wheeled around and stalked out. I raced to pull my dress back into place before any of the guards got a good look at my bare breast and hiked-up skirt but I needn’t have worried: when I looked around, every one of them had their eyes averted. They didn’t dare look.

Except one. Grigory was muttering orders to the other guards but his eyes were still on me, his expression unreadable. I swallowed and hooked my shoulder strap back into place, then smoothed the hem down. I told the guards I was going upstairs to unpack and started to climb the staircase, but I could feel Grigory’s eyes burning into my back. My stomach was in knots. I must have made a mistake. Because somehow, he knows.