His bright eyes flash, and a smirk works its way across his face. I nod at Aleksandr, who nods toward me with a clear look of amusement on his face.

Ben, however, looks like he's about to piss himself.

"I feel confident you are not one of our regular dancers," Ivan says smoothly, as he stalks toward me slowly... almost cautiously.

The suit he's wearing tells me he's here for business, but the lack of a jacket with his slacks and the way his sleeves are rolled up suggest it's either not a formal meeting or it's over. His black shoes and belt shine, so he's not come from something more physical, though.

He looks good in all black, and it's clear from the way he carries himself that he knows it.

"You're right, I'm not," I confirm, nodding once and making a point of drinking in every detail of him as I sip on my water.

"Sir, I was trying to explain to her that she could be. She-" Ben began, but a single hard look from Ivan shut him up instantly.

Despite Ben's larger size, it's impressive how much he managed to shrink under Ivan's gaze.

Walking up, I fiddle with a button of his shirt while pressing lightly against him. His hands make their way to my hips over my lace panties at the same time that his eyes meet mine.

It's when his smirk returns that I melt... just a little...

"I'm helping one of your dancers out who needed to leave early. I've got to get back to the stage, I have about two more sets."

"No. You will do a private show instead. For me," his voice is husky and... is that... possessiveness I hear?

My core tightens instantly, and I'm suddenly very concerned that these lace panties are not enough coverage for what this man does to me.

"Yes, sir," Ben stutters out before rushing off, likely to get a different dancer to take the main stage.

I tsk at him lightly, pressing myself into him a bit more in response to his hands tugging me forward.

"You're going to give that poor man a heart attack," I chastise him lightly.

His chuckle is low, but he doesn't spare anyone around us a glance - despite the fact that we're now drawing the attention of literally every dancer and staff member in the area.

"Come with me, Dame," he murmurs quietly, brushing his lips along my cheek.

His voice is low enough no one else could hear, but the goosebumps spread across my arms when I realize he knows who I am. Not just in general as a random assassin, but specifically who I am... the identity of the WKTA's die Dame is a very well-guarded secret.

Yet, despite every warning bell going off telling me I should deny it or get the fuck out of here while I still can... I run my hands over his chest and move my lips to his ear. I take his earlobe in between my teeth, causing him to hiss and tense slightly. Then he chuckles, pulling back and looking at me with a hunger that tells me he wants to consume every bit of me.

And I want to let him.

I've lost my fucking mind.

He nods once, then stands aside and places a hand on my lower back to lead me away. The other two men he brought with him step aside then fall in step behind us as we walk through the hall beside the stage and up a flight of stairs labeled "VIP." Security nods at us but says nothing as they remove the rope swung across the path, and return to their posts to ensure no one without authorization follows behind.

My boots click on the black wood as we walk unhurried in a comfortable silence upward, his hand never moving from where he first placed it. He uses his other hand to gesture when we need to turn down a different hallway, then to open a door at the end.

Inside is a private lounge with a full bar, several couches, and a small stage in front of the large one-way windows overseeing the floor and main stage below. This space clearly also doubles as his office when he's here since it features a large desk that's a bit too nice for its surroundings.

I wonder if this is where he was sitting when he saw me dancing tonight.

"Why did you do it," Aleksandr's voice comes from behind me, his voice not as deep as Ivan's though his accent is thicker.

He barely waited for the door to close to dive into the questions. I admire that, honestly.

I don't turn away from the view of the dancers below, because I don't need to. I know where all three of the men in this office are at this moment. One by the door, standing directly in front of it, Aleksandr toward the center of the room behind and to the left of me, and Ivan moving from the bar where he's poured two drinks toward the couch to sit.

"You'll have to be more specific, darling Aleksandr," I say casually.

The dancer they've replaced me with appears to be quite new. Incredibly young. If she's 20, it's barely. Lots of focus on floor work because she hasn't built up the muscles for the longer pole-work yet. Still, she has potential.

"Come," Ivan interrupts, drawing my eyes.

I can't help smiling at him when my eyes find his face, softening slightly. I walk slowly toward him, holding his gaze steadily. His gaze is hypnotic... I couldn't turn away even if I wanted to.

What a dangerous game we're playing...

I could sit beside him. I'm pretty sure that's what he expects, but I smirk instead and slowly place my hands on his shoulders, leaning forward to drive him back into the couch. Then, just as slowly, I place one knee down beside his thigh before doing the same on the other side... straddling him so we're face to face.

After all, this is the only way we've talked up until now... mise well keep it going.

His smirk has turned into a full, mischievous grin. I study him for a long moment as I settle into his lap, before reaching back and grabbing his drink and handing it to him... never once breaking his gaze.

"I believe this is my seat," I purr, my own smile broadening at his.

He takes the drink and sips it, humming in agreement.

"Why," he finally asks, repeating Aleksandr's earlier query, "Why did you warn Aleksandr?"

I consider him for a long moment, having struggled with that myself for so long and not having come up with a good answer.

"I couldn't very well have all that work in the alley go to waste, now could I?" I finally say, shrugging.

"Why did you release me in the alley?" he responds, his eyebrows going up slightly in amusement at my answer.

I take his drink from his hand and slowly sip it - since I know this one isn't drugged now - before returning it to his hand.

That's a damn good whiskey.

"I'd already set the scene. Killing you would have been incredibly inconvenient."

"And the details about the hit? Letting me intercept the drop?"

"I'd already baked cookies, and figured I should give them away rather than do damage to my figure. I'm not as young as I once was, I have to watch the sweets."

Chuckling, he shakes his head.

"Do you ever answer questions you're asked?"

"Did you expect anything less from an assassin?"

This time, even Aleksandr joined in with his own laugh. Although he tried to cover it up with a cough. He failed miserably.

"Did you bake those cookies yourself?"

I considered being a smart ass just to keep our little game going where I refused to answer his questions with a real answer. Instead, I just smiled a bit and tried to hide the slight blush that threatened to spread across my cheeks.

"I did, yes. There, a direct answer. Better?"

He nodded slowly, his eyes flicking down to my lips before returning to my eyes.

"Who are you?"

"A phantom," I replied, taking his almost empty glass and enjoying another sip before placing it on the table behind me.

"You should ask questions I can actually answer if you want straight answers, my favorite Russian."

He considered me for a long moment, then without letting his eyes move from mine he waved with one hand toward the other two men in the room before placing a hand on each of my hips. I moved back and forth along him gently, becoming less subtle in my movements when I heard them both leave.

"Who are you," he whispered, his body reacting to mine in all the right ways.

This time, it didn't feel like he was asking for my identity. In fact, I'm not even sure he was talking to me. It felt very much like he was struggling, in that moment, with the way he reacts to me, much like how I struggle with my reaction to him.

My breath caught.

I can't wait another second to taste this man.

I slammed my lips into his and his response was immediate, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me closer. I rocked back and forth with more purpose, our bodies reacting powerfully as if they were made for each other.

It doesn't take long before I can't take it anymore, sitting back enough to undo his belt and unbuckle his pants without breaking the kiss. His urgency in assisting me slide them down and away only excites me more, but it's when he rips the lace away from my body that a guttural moan of true need escapes me.

Fuck.

I position myself above him, and pause for a long moment seeking consent. I pull away from the kiss, ensuring he's focused and aware of exactly what we're doing... holding his gaze and breathing heavily in anticipation.

His hands move to my hips and push me down slowly, allowing me to take all of him until I've fully returned to his lap. I throw my head back groaning at the same time I hear his own moan of approval when he's filled me entirely.

Holy shit he's big...

Then, with the need growing beyond my control, I hold his shoulders firmly as leverage to ride him.

"Fuck," he groans, a hand on each hip guiding me to move the way he wants.

His self-control is waning, and I can see the tension building in him as I move up and down. The sounds of our pleasure are desperate and growing in urgency with the limitations this position gives us both.

So, when he makes a pained moan before he lifts me and flips me on my back onto the couch, I don't fight it.

Holding my legs up, he takes full control and slams into me harder and faster, his groans turning into growls when he's able to plunge completely into me.

When he leaned forward, finding the angle that has me arching my back and gasping, he smirked in triumph before unleashing on me completely. Every inhibition broke away when my reactions gave him what he sought.

His kisses become brutal, his bites sharp, his grasp tight... each pain accompanied by pleasure, driving me closer and closer toward exploding.

At last, he drives me over the edge at the same time he finds his own release, and it's so fucking delicious we barely pause long enough to breathe before we start all over again.

Panting with my head on his arm and my hand running through the hair on his now-bare chest, I listen to his heartbeat as he too tries to catch his breath. We made it to the floor long ago, and I've decided not to think too hard about how clean the floors in this room are or aren't.

"You won't tell me your name. Will you?" he finally asks, after we've both caught our breath.

"No, my favorite Russian. I will not."

"I want to know you," he finally says, looking down at me.

His fingers are tracing up and down my back, a gentle touch that has powerful side effects.

"You shouldn't," I whisper, reaching up and tracing his jaw, "this is too dangerous..."

"I can protect you," his voice is determined, and his face is very serious.

I can't help smiling at his protectiveness... almost possessiveness... for a person he knows nearly nothing about.

"I'm the one that's been working to keep you alive, remember?" I tease.

Then the smile falls, and reality starts to set in despite our little bubble of peace and pleasure.

"The hits were ordered by Rossi. Failure is making him desperate."

His eyebrow arches up for a long moment.

"The guy for the drop was useless. A homeless man with no ties," he replies, studying me for a long moment.

I nod, confirming I know that's true.

"Yes, he was. But with enough digging and patience you can trace the payment drop back to the original hand off with one of Rossi's men."

He curses softly, studying me with what looks like... admiration? Amusement? Pride? What is that look he's giving me and why does it make me want to go another round?

Then... I make a decision... a bad... not wise... decision I've been fighting with since speaking with Mel only a few hours ago.

"Rossi has four hostages at his estate. The other four from your alliance-gone-bad that night at The Rouge," I begin slowly, studying his reactions to see how he handles the information I have before I decide what to do next.

He tenses beneath me, his eyes widening, but he doesn't say anything.

"I'm going to break them out," I state, again waiting for his response.

This time he takes a deep breath in, and several emotions I can't quite identify flicker behind his eyes.

"Why?" he finally asks, sitting up and slowly moving me on my back so he can hover above me, holding his weight on his arms, "Why are you helping me?"

I hesitate, trying to school my features but likely failing in the face of this incredibly disarming man.

I don't fucking know... because I've lost my God damn mind and you consume every single thought in my head even though I don't know hardly anything about you? Also, this is bigger than you and me, and Rossi is now becoming an unhinged, unpredictable risk that even the WKTA neutrality can't ignore? So, my boss wants me to go rogue and take the fall if I fail.

Not to even mention Rossi's potential personal obsession with me...

"I told you. It'd be a waste if I let you die so quickly after all the work I put in to save you."

"Your organization won't look too kindly on you taking sides, Dame," he mutters, moving his hand down my cheek.

There's a huge part of me that wants to ask how he figured out who I am... or spin the truth to deny it completely.

But I don't...

"That's why they can't know I'm involved. No one can," I say softly, my focus torn between his touch as his fingers trail down my neck and his eyes as he studies me.

"You told me," he said softly, pausing and holding my gaze.

Yes I did, and it's as stupid as it is dangerous.

I hold his gaze and say nothing. He already knows the implications. After a few heartbeats, his lips slam on mine again and we decide to repeat our previous exercises all over again - leaving the rest of what my confession means unsaid.

Then we did it again. And again. And...

Sated and sore, I stood and got dressed.

I had evidence of our activities in absolutely every crevice of my body, and I'd be lying if I said it upset me. I did have to steal a pair of shorts he thankfully had stashed in his office since he decided to shred my underwear - but his smirk when I grumbled about it made it hard to be upset with him.

"I want to see you again," he said suddenly.

Looking over to him, I see his smile has faded and he's turned very serious, making my own smile fall away as well.

"You know we can't do that," I said, shaking my head and finishing up with my boots, "we shouldn't have done this. You and me? This? This could get us both killed."

He knows I'm right, but he doesn't even realize how far it goes. He doesn't know who I am beyond what he's seen. This is even more complicated than the WKTA's policy on killing those that break neutrality, the bratva's opinions on who their leaders have relationships with, or the opinions of the rival gangs on die Dame being scooped up by the Russians.

No... I have even more to risk than that, personally. Deep inside, something I fear is his rejection if he learns who I am outside of our world. If he learns about the real me... and my past.

"We can handle the politics," he says, walking toward me slowly.

He's so incredibly handsome. He's shirtless with his slacks thrown back on but rumpled from their time on the floor, his hair wild from the hours of sex, and the sweat on his muscles making his skin glow under the low lights in his black-painted lounge. It's hard to breathe when he's in front of me looking like that, hard to think clearly.

I shake my head, trying to clear it.

"We can't, Ivan," I say quietly, turning away to try and catch my breath.

His arms wrapped around me from behind and steals it right back.

His breath on my ear makes it hard to catch it again.

"Say my name again, mon zlyushchaya lisa" he whispered.

My feisty fox... that's a phenomenal name that makes me smile despite myself.

"Ivan," I whisper back, not meaning it to come out like the purr it did.

"Fuck," Ivan mutters, burying his face in the crook of my neck, kissing and nibbling gently.

His arms have wrapped around my waist, one hand on my hip and the other landing on my chest above the corset. I lean backward into him, exposing my neck to give him more access.

He makes it hard to keep a level head in his presence.

"I can't stay," I murmur, and I almost flinch hearing the reluctance so obvious in my voice.

"Let me help you," his voice is stronger, and his hold tightened as he spoke, placing kisses between his words, "With Rossi. We'll break them out together. They'll never have to know you were involved."

And we'll have to work together... unspoken yet hanging between us as loudly as if he'd said the words.

"I'll think about it."

That's a bad answer. I should say no. I should absolutely not think about it. Yet... the temptation to have an excuse to talk to him again is difficult to resist. The way I feel his smile against my neck is not helping strengthen my resolve.

What magic does this man have that melts me like this?

Turning around in his arms, I place my hands on his chest, twirling my fingers absentmindedly in the hair there as I look into his eyes... memorizing him. The way he's studying me, it's like he's doing the same.

"Goodbye... Ivan," I murmur, pulling him down as I stretch upward to kiss him one last time - more chaste than all the rest and yet, somehow, more intimate - before turning on my heel and hurrying out the door.

I quickly move past the two bodies standing guard, not looking to see if Aleksandr is one of them, down the stairs and to the locker to retrieve my things. I dress quickly, and leave the club without looking around. I know eyes are on me, but I avoid looking at anyone and everyone. Instead, when I leave I go through the motions... I don't head back to my bike, but grab the taxi I called the moment I got out of Ivan's lounge. I let them take me to a drop off, where another taxi is waiting around the corner and through a parking garage. Ducking into the parking garage, I take the elevator to the level with no working cameras and enter the public restroom beside the stair well.

I'm going to have to restock my wardrobe change stashes soon...

By the time I exit and enter the second taxi, no one would have any idea I was the woman who entered the parking garage from the other entrance. I have the driver take me back to the parking garage where my bike is, and then trash the duffle containing tonight's outfit before heading home.

Gonna have to replace my costume collection too. I'm running out of wigs.

When I finally make it through the front door of my apartment, it's nearly 4am and I have just enough energy to shower - washing off the insane amounts of cum and sweat from tonight's events - before falling into bed.

I fell asleep before my head fully settled into the pillow.

I dreamt of his eyes... his arms... his lips... the sounds of his pleasure... the way his muscles tensed when he came.

It's hard to regret the very obviously bad decisions I made tonight when those dreams were my reward.

--

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