Chaya glanced past me down the dark kitchen hallway before turning towards the pantry in the shadows. I followed close behind. She lifted the lid to a stainless steel pasta pot on the third shelf. "The necklace is a gold kundan choker with jade beads."

I had definitely seen the necklace on Lucia's dresser before dinner and was sure she was wearing it tonight. It would take some creativity to get her to take it off willingly for me. Or I just had to make sure I was there at the end of the night when she'd take it off herself. Which also might require some creativity.

But I could get creative.

I held my hand out to shake on it. "Okay."

As Chaya turned back around, she placed a heavy metal object against my palm. My fingers wrapped around the textured grip, recognizing the weight of it. And immediately, my hand sprung open to reject it. The gun flung up into the air between us, falling back to bounce off my palms like a hot potato before slipping through my fingers and clattering to the tile floor.

"Christ, Mac, your nerves still frozen or something?" Chaya snatched up the gun and held it back out to me. "What the hell is the matter with you?"

"Me?! Why the hell are you handing me a gun?"

"'Cause there's people here who clearly want you dead, mate. I can't just keep following you 'round all night. I'm not even supposed to be here."

She tried to put it in my hand again, but I stepped backwards, knocking into the pantry, rattling the pots and pans. "I don't even know how to use it."

Her arm straightened, gun pointed over my shoulder. "Aim. Pull trigger. No safety."

I swatted her arm down to our sides. "And just kill someone??"

Chaya sighed, obviously disappointed. She tucked the nose of the gun into her leggings and leaned back against the pantry. "Well, you'll probably be all right for now. Charlene won't come after you again, not you alone at least."

"Then why are you trying to give me a gun?"

"'Cause she'll target your family instead."

"I don't have—" But then I realized she meant Artemisia and Desirae and likely anyone else I might get close to. My eyes went to the gun in her pants. Her hips flexed out, tempting me to take it. I shook my head. "I'm not like you, Chaya. I can't just..."

"What? And you think you're like them?" She gestured back to the dining hall with a snort. "You can slither into her gowns, step into her shoes. She'll dress you up and tote you 'round like her little play-thing. But you'll always be just some girl from the gutter like me. And we do what we have to in order to survive. We're not like them."

A lingering shiver shook my body into action. I stepped up to her and curled my fingers around the textured grip.

She caught my wrist.

"Don't hesitate, Mac." Her dark eyes shifted over mine. "The second you do, you'll be dead."

As I nodded, she let go of my wrist and I slipped the gun out from her waistband.

But now that it was in my possession, I didn't know what to do with it. I cupped the gun awkwardly with both of my hands. "Where am I gonna put it?"

Chaya pushed away from the pantry and walked a circle around me, stopping in front again to kneel down. She reached back behind herself and out of nowhere, she pulled out a knife and flicked it open.

"Oh, uh..." I swallowed hard, eyeing up the length of the silver blade reflecting the low light of the hall. "Can I just have the knife instead?"

Her warm hands slid up beneath my dress against my still frozen legs. My body stiffened as the spine of the knife grazed my skin. Instantly, my fingers tightened around the metal grip of the gun, afraid I was going to drop it again; afraid of what she was going to do; and afraid I was slightly turned on by what she was going to do. As she reached my hips, she hooked her fingertips into the lace waistband of my underwear. The knife slid up against my hip and with a gentle snap, the blade cut through the elastic.

I exhaled a little too loud and Chaya looked up at me, lips pressed with a tempting smile. Slowly, she slipped off my underwear, down over my legs, where the edge of the blade kissed my skin again. Heat rushed through my cold body, settling between my thighs.

I shut my eyes and tried to think of being locked in that freezer with Georgiy's head again.

The click of the blade folding back into the steel handle made me wink open an eye to peer down at her. Chaya tucked the knife back into her side pocket. Gripping my ankle, she lifted my foot to a shelf in the pantry, spreading me wide with just a thin strip of my dress between us.

I reminded myself that she was a killer.

She took the cut elastic waistband of my underwear and wrapped it around my bare thigh twice, tying it so tight that I had to bite my lip to hold back a cry.

A trained killer.

As her thumb slid under the band to adjust it farther up my thigh, I had to shut my eyes again.

A professionally paid killer.

"We—we shouldn't, right?" My heart was in my throat; body still frozen, but ablaze. "You're a killer. You've killed people."

"So have you, Mac."

"Right. Technically, yes. I have. I did." I clenched my eyes tighter. "But I mean, you've killed people with those hands, right? Your bare hands?"

Her breath was hot on my thigh. "I don't have to use my hands..."

I couldn't take it any more.

Tossing the gun haphazardly onto the pantry, I raked a hand through Chaya's dark curls to guide her between my legs. She threw my leg over her shoulder and found my clit with her tongue. As my body swelled with pleasure, I had to grip the shelf behind me to stabilize myself. The rattle of the pots and pans muffled my moan. Her tongue circled over me, lapping eagerly while her fingers dug into the backs of my thighs.

I wanted them around my throat.

To walk that fine line with death again.

I wondered if she'd ever felt the same after killing someone.

Did she feel anything at all?

"What's your body count?" I asked through gasps.

"Hmm..." she hummed against my skin, sending a ripple of pleasure through me. "Three hundred maybe?"

My eyes opened. "Three hundred?"

"Did you mean fucks or kills?"

I ran my hand through her soft hair again and shoved her back between my thighs. "Nevermind."

With a laugh, she dipped her tongue inside me. My knee nearly gave out, legs trembling as she slipped in and out. I wanted her deeper. Needed her deeper. To push out all the thoughts in my head of death and decapitated heads and Charlene and Lucia and Desirae and Artemisia.

Desirae and Artemisia.

Had Desirae come onto her first that night? No. I didn't want to go there. But my mind wouldn't obey. Artemisia was way more forward. She had always been the first to make a move. She would have still been livid after the gallery, in that red, vintage, Gucci dress I had ripped up the thigh. Probably cursing me out as she took it off. Desirae resisting, turning away. Artemisia coming up from behind her, slipping her fingers beneath Desirae's dress.

My own tightened around Chaya's curls. "I lied. I do need your hands."

As she let go of my thighs to find my center, I tugged up on her hair again. In a second, she had me flipped around and bent over the sink next to the pantry, her hands tight in my own curls this time to hold me in place.

"Bit of a brat, aren't you? Maybe you are like her," she laughed quiet but heavy against my ear.

My body trembled with anticipation. Her grip loosened, then released, reaching down to find the slit in my dress instead. The tear of fabric made me gasp, my back arched. I could feel Artemisia's anger from when I had done the same to her.

"Lu's gonna—"

Chaya's hand slid slowly up between my legs. "Lu's gonna what? Kill me?" She eased her fingers inside of me, stroking to find my g-spot, both gentle and rough, exactly what I needed. "You're so wet," she whispered against my bare back. "I wish I had stolen one of the straps from her room."

My back arched deeper with every word, wishing for the same. But as turned on as I was from her and everything she was doing to me, I couldn't get Desirae and Artemisia out of my mind.

With each thought and every thrust, my breaths quickened, body closer to release. Chaya's free hand slipped beneath the plunging neckline of my dress to squeeze my breast, to massage my nipple. My moans grew louder and her hand shot up to cup my mouth. Voices in the kitchen echoed our way, but Chaya didn't stop. I whimpered against her palm which only drove her deeper into me, faster, harder. I slid her hand away from my mouth and down to my throat. Her fingers tightened. My body tightened.

As I gasped for air, her hips grinded against my ass. My head went starry light. I probably should have tapped out, but I wanted her to keep going. I needed her to. Thoughts of Artemisia and Desirae continued to play out in my head. Chaya's soft groans caressed the back of my neck, coaxing me to come. I was on the edge, ready to plunge, when a metal clink drew my eyes to the sink. Even in the dark I could see the red ribbon.

The key to Lucia's room.

As I reached down for it, Chaya grabbed my wrist and twisted my arm behind my back. "You naughty little bird. What'd you do to earn that?"

"I told you, Lu thinks I killed her husband."

Her thrusts slowed, but deepened. "Didn't you?"

"Does that thought turn you on?"

She gripped me by the hair again, pulling me upright. Pain ripped through my shoulder, muscles tearing, but it only made the pleasure better.

"Lu was there that night, yeah?" she whispered in my ear. "Was she wearing that leather harness beneath her dress?"

My mind went back to the harness Lucia had laid out on her bed. Earlier I had imagined her in it, but maybe it hadn't just been my imagination. I tried to shake the image away, but she persisted.

Chaya slipped another finger inside of me, filling me up. Her other hand tugged harder through my hair. "Tell me."

"Yes," I gasped. Her hand left my curls, back to my neck, tightening around my throat. Phantom memories tugged at my oxygen-deprived mind. I could see Lucia there in the bedroom in Sicily, leather harness strapped tight to her body; I could smell Artemisia's Chanel on her skin. I arched harder into Chaya's hips and she met me with equal force, grinding and pumping until one final thrust made her body quiver against mine.

"Fuck," she groaned, letting go of my throat. "I didn't mean to come so quick."

I glanced back at her over my shoulder. "I guess the visual helped?"

She pulled out and smacked my ass, squeezing my cheek hard. "I'd ask you the same, but I already know."

"Glad we're on the same page." I smiled nervously as I tried to purge Lucia from my head. At least I had stopped thinking about Desirae and Artemisia, but what the fuck did any of this mean. I flipped back around and stood upright, adjusting my dress as casually as I could. "Wouldn't want you catching feelings."

"You'd have to kill me first." She licked me off her fingers, slow and exaggerated. I almost wanted to kiss her. Maybe out of curiosity more than anything. But something told me she wasn't the kissing type. She slid her thigh up between my legs and grabbed my hips. "Should we keep going?"

I wanted to. My body wanted to. Naturally, it began to roll against her. But I had to get back to dinner. I had to figure out what happened that night. How I was going to get the necklace from Lucia. And how I was going to wind up in her bedroom at the end of the night. The obvious plan was likely the worst one.

I hated myself for thinking about it.

"What's uh, Lu's top kink?"

Chaya's grip on my hips loosened. The smirk on her face slipped just slightly.

"I mean, besides the voyeuristic, group sex stuff. She's obviously into leather. Is it just a kinky fashion thing for the club? Or is she some type of Russian dom?"

Chaya let me go completely and glanced down the hall towards the kitchen before turning on the faucet next to me. She lathered her hands and scrubbed me from them. "Lu may come across as a dom, but she's a total sub. Probably because it's the only way she can release after bossing everyone around all day. She loves being told what to do. She was paying some Sicilian mistress over $20k every couple weeks until Georgiy found out and killed the woman right in front of her."

"Georgiy did?"

"That's what she told me." Chaya shrugged. "I was called in afterwards for clean up. Looked pretty violent. Chest stab wounds, throat slit—"

"In their bed?" I asked.

Chaya nodded, drying her hands off. "Sound familiar?"

I took the dish towel from her and started to clean myself up. I didn't know what to make of all of it. It seemed like too much of a coincidence.

"I heard she offered to buy Artemisia."

My head shot back up. "What?"

"And her father almost accepted."

"Pino would never." I tossed the towel back into the sink. "Give up control over Artemisia? Never. That's why he cut her off, to try to get her back. But it backfired on him. She's going to testify against him."

"I doubt that."

"Well, you don't know her." My throat tightened, fists clenched. "I'm proud of her."

It felt good to say that out loud about her. But the whole situation put me on the edge. Especially knowing now that Artemisia had met up with Lucia that night. What had it been about? Had she followed Lucia into the villa?

"You'd be smart to leave them to each other, Mac. Them and that CIA baddie."

"Then I guess I'm just a dumbass."

Chaya nodded with a sigh. "You and me both." She tipped her head to a corner in the back. "Come on."

I started to follow her, then spun back around for the gun. It was still laying on the shelf in the pantry, but the key that had fallen into the sink was gone. No red ribbon. I carefully picked up the gun, eyes still searching for a sliver of red in the dark. Chaya popped up behind me again, making the hair on my arms bristle. I held the gun out to her. "What do I do with this?"

That salacious smile returned to her face as she found the slit in my dress again and took the gun, sliding it up between my legs to tuck the barrel into the band around my thigh. Cold metal against my hot skin made me gasp.

"I don't think it needs to be up that high," I whispered.