Page 185 of Arrow

Stepping closer, she invaded my space. “I worked for the Romanov family before Arrow went his own way. I know what happens to beautiful things in that family.”

“And yet you’re still here,” I observed, “serving drinks to his son.”

She laughed, a sound like broken glass. “We all serve someone in this city. The question is whether we choose our masters or they choose us.” Her fingers brushed my arm, light as a butterfly’s wing. “You wear his mark,” she nodded at my necklace, “but your eyes don’t match your collar.”

“Maybe I like the contradiction.”

“Or maybe you’re playing a game you don’t fully understand.” She leaned closer, her breath warm against my ear. “Be careful, Virelli. The last woman who thought she could tame Arrow Romanov ended up in pieces.”

Before I could respond, the bathroom door swung open. The woman stepped back smoothly, her face transforming into a pleasant, servile mask as Arrow filled the doorway, his expression thunderous.

“Time’s up,” he said, eyes flicking between us.

The woman dipped her head in mock deference. “Just offering your fiancée a towel, Mr. Romanov.” She glided past him.

His eyes followed her until the door closed, then locked onto me. “What did she say to you?”

I shrugged, smoothing my dress with an intentional air of casualness. “Just girl talk. Bathroom etiquette. You know how it is.”

He stepped closer, backing me against the marble counter. “Don’t lie to me, Harlowe. Not here.”

I met his gaze, unflinching. “She warned me about you. Said the last woman who thought she could tame you ended up in pieces.” I tilted my head. “Care to elaborate?”

A muscle jumped in his jaw. “Irina talks too much. Always has.”

“Irina,” I repeated, filing the name away. “So you do know her.”

“She worked for my father.” His hand came up to cup my jaw, thumb pressing just hard enough against my pulse to feel it quicken. “She likes to collect secrets and sell them to the highest bidder.”

“And what secrets was she hoping to collect from me?”

His eyes darkened. “Whatever would hurt me most.”

The possessiveness in his voice sent a thrill through me—not fear, but something darker, more primal. I leaned into his touch, letting my lips brush against his thumb. “And what would destroy you most completely?” I replied.

His pupils dilated, and for a moment, I thought he might take me right there on the marble counter, with strangers just beyond the door. Instead, he gripped my wrist and pulled me from the bathroom, his stride purposeful as he cut through the club. We bypassed the meeting room entirely, heading down a corridor I hadn't seen before.

“Where are we going?” I asked, struggling to keep up in my heels.

“Somewhere private.” His voice was clipped, controlled fury vibrating beneath the surface.

He swiped a keycard at a door with a snake on it, then pulled me inside. The room was small but luxurious—black walls, red velvet furniture, and a massive bed that dominated the space. One-way mirrors lined one wall, offering a view of the main floor below while keeping us hidden from prying eyes.

Arrow locked the door behind us, then turned to face me. The controlled rage in his expression made my skin prickle with anticipation.

“You think this is a game, moya malen’kaya gadyuka?”⁠* he asked, closing the distance between us. “Testing me in front of those men? Talking to Irina?”

I lifted my chin. “Everything’s a game in this world. I thought you knew the rules.”

His hand shot out, gripping my throat—not squeezing, just holding, his thumb pressed against my pulse point. “Those men down there? They’d skin you alive just to hear the sound. And you walk in there as if you own them, like your father’s name is enough to keep you safe. Tvoy otets nichto!”⁠* His grip tightened fractionally. “Nothing keeps you safe here except me.”

“I don’t need your protection. I need your respect.”

Something flickered in his eyes—not anger, but something deeper, more complex. His hand slid from my throat to cup my face, thumb brushing across my lower lip. He backed me against the one-way mirror, the glass cold against my overheated skin. Below us, the club pulsed with bodies and music, but up here, we existed in our own violent universe.

“You think I don’t see what you’re doing?” he growled against my mouth. “Pushing me, testing limits, seeing how far you can go before I snap?” His hand slid up my thigh, fingers digging into my flesh as he pushed the fabric up around my hips. “You have what you wanted—you’re here, in the middle of everything. What more are you trying to prove?”

“That I’m not just your trophy,” I whispered against his mouth. “That I’m not just another possession for you to lock away.”