Beauty and the Hitman by Sophie Stone

Author:Sophie Stone [Stone, Sophie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-07-22T16:00:00+00:00

6

Anton

I wake up alone.

This would not be unusual every other morning of my life. Except in the span of twelve hours, I’ve blown up everything I once considered normal.

I pass a hand over Mia’s side of the bed—still warm—and spring to my feet, tugging on my boxers and grabbing a gun from the nightstand.

She’s not in the en suite. Not in the walk-in closet or the guest room.

Gone… or taken? Scared off by my possessiveness? She might think she’s safer out there without me. She would be wrong about that. Either way, I need to find her. Now. Before anyone else does.

I stalk down the hallway, keeping close to the wall, clearing the apartment room by room. All of the windows are closed. No sign of forced entry. Nothing disturbed.

There are sounds coming from the kitchen.

I cross the hall, holding the gun with both hands, my finger beside the trigger. One breath in, and release. I step into the kitchen, pointing the barrel at the intruders.

“Anton,” my mother tsks, mid-pour. “Please put this thing away. You do not see we have guest?”

She plops a slice of lemon into the teacup and slides it across the kitchen to Mia. Mia plucks her cup up with her fingertips and takes a small sip, a smile curving her lips. She’s dressed in my shirt and boxers, which are currently riding up her thigh. Her tangle of blonde curls has been whipped up into a messy knot at the top of her head.

“You do not even introduce,” my mother chides, moving around the kitchen to extract another cup from the display cabinets housing the good china. The ones she brought with her from Russia. Mia must have made a good impression.

“We got in late,” I tell her. I place my gun on the table and drop down next to Mia at the bar, giving her leg a light squeeze. I leave my hand there, my fingers curled possessively into her warm softness. She sputters a little into her next sip of tea, and my mother flashes me a look.

If she wasn’t my mother, she’d have made a fearsome hitman herself. Luckily, her days of sacrificing herself for me are long past.

“Is okay. Mia and I have been getting to know… um, how you say?”

“Each other. Or you could say one another,” Mia says gently, then turns to me. “Your mom very kindly made me breakfast.”

My mother waves a hand. “Is nothing. Antoshka, never eats my pastries. Now I have someone who does. You stay, I give you more.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing this morning? Eating pastries? Drinking tea?”

I catch a devious glint in Mia’s eye. “And chatting.”

“Chatting, huh?” I murmur under my breath, knocking my shoulder into Mia’s as my mother busies herself with cutting another hunk of apple cake. “Nothing bad, I hope.”

“Oh, Antoshka,” Mia breathes, her attempt at the Russian sending a hot electric shock straight to my cock. “It’s all bad.”

I slide my hand up beneath her loose boxers, my fingers at the wet apex of her cunt.

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