I gasp, but his coarse words only make the pleasure coil tighter inside me. “Yes.”

“Watched you fuck that enforcer as if he had any right to this pussy. Watched him put his hands all over you while he split you wide open where anyone could see, in that short little dress.”

I can still see the picture he sent. The damning evidence of me on someone else’s cock. “Yes,” I moan.

“Then you shared my pussy with that bitch, letting her mark you up and take a picture with her hands all over you. Taunting me.”

“Yes!” I ride him harder, faster. “It felt so good. I knew it’d make you so mad.”

“You keep passing that cunt out like free candy. It’s like you want me to punish you. To fuck you hard and fast and reclaim what’s mine.” His teeth find my nipple, and it’s enough to have me dancing right up to the edge.

I don’t make a conscious decision to move. To disobey. It’s as if my hands have a mind of their own. One moment, I’m quivering and shaking, on the brink of coming, and the next, I rip off my blindfold and look down at Wolf.

I freeze.

He’s not wearing a mask right now. He’s just as naked as I am, his face all harsh lines.

His . . . familiar face.

Because I know this face. I’ve seen it wearing a thousand different emotions, seen it angry and soft and filled with the kind of lust that makes my clit throb.

Luke.

But no. That’s impossible. It can’t be. I know Luke. He’s a nice guy. Respectful. Almost boring these days, though he wasn’t when we started dating.

I’ve never seen this expression on his face, though. He looks cruel, his blue eyes so cold that I shiver on his cock. It’s as if another person is wearing his skin. I don’t know this man. My Luke would not stalk me. My Luke would not murder someone and then finger fuck me over their dead body.

“What the fuck,” I whisper.

If he says something harsh and self-assured like Wolf would, I may do the mental gymnastics to keep fucking him. Instead he says, “I can explain.” And he doesn’t sound like Luke right now. But he doesn’t sound like Wolf either.

He has a Russian accent.

I shove off him. I don’t have a plan, but I’m nearly to the door when he catches up with me. He wraps me in his big body, and I really am a fool because part of me wants to melt for him.

“Stop, Ruby.”

“Let me go. What did you do with Wolf?” It’s the only explanation. Luke and Wolf can’t be the same person. Luke must have figured out what was going on and then stepped into Wolf’s clothing.

“I’m Wolf.”

“Don’t lie to me!”

He braces one arm on the door in front of me. “Look.”

I see what he means immediately. The bite mark on his forearm, the perfect impression of my teeth from the last time. When he fucked me on the couch and told me to be quiet or he’d kill Luke. Except he’s Luke. “What the fuck?”

His hard cock presses against my ass. “What’s your safe word, baby?” His accent gives the words a strange flavor, as if he’s not Wolf or Luke. But someone who may be more dangerous than both.

“What?” My head is spinning. I can’t think. I can’t process what the hell is going on.

“Your safe word.” He tightens his hold on my waist and lifts me just a little, just enough for his cock to find my entrance. “Because as far as I’m concerned, nothing has changed between us. You were happy enough that I paid a million dollars for this cunt five minutes ago. I mean to take what I’m owed.”

Again, my foolish body takes over. I arch back against him, my safe word trapped on the inside of my teeth. “I hate you.”

“Yeah, you keep saying that.” He wedges his cock into me, one slow inch at a time. It doesn’t feel like care, though. It feels like humiliation, especially when my pussy blooms around him in response. “Hands on the door.”

“Fuck you.” But I obey. I press my hands flat to the door as he starts to fuck me again. This time, it’s not like when I was riding him. It’s closer to what happened on the couch.

A claim of ownership.

“When you come, I want you to say my name,” he murmurs in my ear. “My real name.”

“I . . . get that . . . now? Lucky me.” Gods, his cock feels good inside me. I don’t understand how I didn’t recognize him as Luke, who I’ve fucked more times than I can count. But then, Luke never fucked me like this. He was selfless to an outstanding degree, and if sometimes we got a little rough, it was always with me on top and driving things. It never felt dirty or borderline violent.

“Casimir.”

Just like that, everything clicks. The name I barely recognized. The Russian accent. Casimir Romanov. The vicious fixer for the Russian branch of the Romanov family.

The Mad Wolf.

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12

The Romanovs don’t have a foothold in Carver City. I don’t know if they ever tried to, but to the best of my knowledge, when they sent over their people from Russia to put down roots in the States, they stuck to the main port cities. Our power structure is older and more insular than a lot of other cities in the country. That remains true to this day.

But that doesn’t explain what he’s doing here. With me.

I open my mouth to demand answers, but he slaps my clit before I can speak. His voice is harsh in my ear. “Do it, Ruby. Come for me right fucking now.”

Even as my mind rails at his arrogance, at his determination to make me fold, my body is primed and ready to submit. It’s everything I can do to clamp my jaw shut and keep his name trapped on the right side of my teeth. I can’t stop myself from coming, though. My body is too eager for the pleasure he gives.

He curses against my ear. “Stubborn to the bitter end.”

Wolf—Luke—Casimir pulls out of me. I don’t have a chance to figure out what I’m supposed to do next, because he throws me over his shoulder and starts carrying me to the bed. “Time to talk.”

That snaps me out of it. “You son of a bitch.” I beat my fists against his lower back. “You lied to me. You’ve been lying to me.” For two fucking years. He must have known exactly who I was in that bar that night he hit on me, when we took shots together and ended up fucking in the parking lot. He took me home that night, and within a week, we were official.

A lie.

Casimir pauses in front of the huge trunk of toys, but I don’t have a chance to twist to see what he’s doing before he’s on the move again. He drops me onto the bed. I bounce, and then he’s on top of me, straddling my stomach.

I almost—almost—get distracted by his massive cock right in my face. He’s still hard and coated in my orgasm. I’ve seen his cock like this before, but it’s not the same. It will never be the same again.

He slams a cuff around one wrist and, in one smooth move, clips it into a bar connected to the rings hanging on either side of the headboard. I gasp, but it’s too late. He already has my second wrist bound and clipped in. “You motherfucker.”

He ignores me and moves down my body to give my ankles the same treatment. I try to twist and kick him, but he easily avoids the blow. Within seconds, I’m bound spread-eagle on the bed.

Helpless.

No one even knows where I am, thanks to my lies. I didn’t book the plane ticket with my credit card, so there’s no record of it. I turned in my phone when I arrived at the estate, and I watched the Concierge turn it off, so I can’t rely on location tracking.

I’m fucked.

Casimir climbs off the bed and pulls on his pants. Then he turns back to me. “Now. Speak. Get it off your chest so we can move on.”

His audacity leaves me temporarily speechless. He’s talking as if this has a foregone conclusion, as if this is a little bump on the path to our future. Delusional. I rattle the cuffs against their rings. “Untie me.”