The click of the lock. That was the last thing I heard before the silence settled over the room. The space, which had just moments ago been filled with the tender, brutal passion of Vladimir, now felt hollow.

I stood in the middle of it, my body still humming from his touch, my heart drums against my ribs. The scent of him, cologne, whiskey, and that uniquely masculine scent that was just him, lingered in the air. He was gone. My protector, my lover, my terrifying Don.

The terror, which I had ...