Chapter Eleven Callum #2
Once the necklace is secured, she centers the pendant on her sternum and looks at me—for what—approval?
Running a hand over my beard, I’m staring at her dumbfounded.
The woman has stolen all words. My breathing is uneven as I desperately grasp on to the mask of calm that’s splintering under her expectant gaze.
It’s all I can do to give her a short nod.
Stepping into the elevator, I avoid looking at her reflection as the doors close.
The last thing I need is to take this meeting with a raging erection, and one glance at her like this will have me rock hard.
Roscoe catches my eyes, his brows lifting to communicate that he notices my discomfort.
My glower in return only feeds his amusement.
Fucker.
“Who are we going to dinner with?” Lexie asks, oblivious to our silent exchange. She fiddles with the ring she always wears on the middle finger of her left hand, twisting it in a sign of what I recognize as anxiety. She’s nervous.
“Viktor and Levi Mikhailov will be there with their wives, along with Enzo.”
The elevator stops.
Ding.
The car ride is spent in silence. Lexie taps on her phone, most likely texting her best friend, Mia. I do my best not to stare at the way her dress rides up when she crosses her legs. My eyes keep catching on thick thighs despite my best efforts.
Get it together, Russo.
I can’t show up to meet Mikhailov tripping over my hormones like some horny teenager. This dinner, despite its casual front, is crucial to the Harris job. If I can’t get Viktor’s blessing to enter his territory, it could result in a turf war I have no interest in getting involved with.
My ties to the Cosa Nostra already have Mikhailov and his Bratva roots on the fence about me. Old family feuds run deep, even now. This dinner is an active minefield. One misstep and this whole situation detonates.
Tugging at the shirt cuffs clasped at my wrists, I roll my shoulders to ease the tension settling there. The restaurant comes into view and my resolve is set firmly back into place. I’ll get what I need from Mikhailov tonight, there’s no other option.
My hand finds its way to the small of Lexie’s back when we enter The Dining Room, the heat of her body radiating through her little black dress. Enzo stands waiting at the host stand, giving Lexie an enthusiastic greeting.
“Reporting for duty, boss,” he says to me, exaggerating his dutiful tone with a nod before his focus turns to the blonde. “And here I thought it would be a stuffy business dinner. But if you’re here, there’s hope for a good time. What a pleasant surprise.”
“Hi Enzo, it’s nice to see you again,” she replies. The fact that Enzo’s happily married doesn’t stop my fingers from flexing against Lexie’s back. She looks up at me curiously, but I keep my eyes straight ahead.
“Mr. Russo,” the hostess steps forward to address me.
“Your party is already seated and waiting for you. If you’ll follow me.
” As the young woman leads us through the restaurant, my gaze takes note of each exit, every staff member on the floor, and each set of male eyes that follow the woman on my arm.
Viktor and Levi are seated towards the back of the restaurant, the best table in the place that seats eight with a view of the city.
The Dining Room is one of the more upscale restaurants in New York, with marble floors, floor-to-ceiling windows looking over the city skyline, and a six-month waitlist. This place couldn’t be more different from the seedy, outdated bar Levi owns—which is exactly the point.
When authorities are looking for Russian thugs, Levi’s bar is the first place they look.
No one expects Viktor, the head of the Russian Bratva, to frequent a ritzy place like this, let alone own it.
“Russo,” Viktor greets, nodding to the other two men. “Who is this?” He indicates towards the woman on my arm.
“This is Lexie, she’s with me,” I state simply.
“Lexie, this is Viktor and his wife, Vera. And you remember Levi, with his wife, Alina.” Vera is a striking woman with severe features, like her piercing dark blue eyes that can cut you with a glance.
Her black hair is cut cleanly at the shoulders and curled inwards in a sleek bob.
The darkness of her hair stands in stark contrast to the fairness of her alabaster skin.
Alina has a much softer look with long dark brown hair and wide brown eyes. Her default expression seems to be a stoic pout as she watches quietly. Despite her docile appearance, I know Levi’s wife is anything but passive.
Lexie greets the two women in her usual fashion, complimenting them with a smile. Levi and Alina sit next to Vera then Viktor at the large circular table. Roscoe takes the seat next to Viktor while Enzo sits next to his son. I place myself next to Enzo, with Lexie on my right beside Roscoe.
Conversation starts off mildly with politeness and pleasantries.
Lexie comments on Alina’s earrings, which starts a small debate about natural diamonds versus lab-grown.
I think a diamond is just a sparkly rock, natural or not.
The pretty pink nurse seems to agree with me.
What we talk about here at the table is inconsequential—the only conversation that matters to me tonight is the one I’ll have with Viktor later. Alone.
Everything is going smoothly until the waiter comes around to take our dinner orders.
“And what would you like to eat, Miss?” The waiter addresses Lexie with a little too much interest. My eyes narrow at the man, but he’s too focused on the bombshell beside me to notice.
“I’ve never eaten here before. What’s your favorite dish on the menu…” Lexie looks up at his name tag. “Blake.” The smile she offers him is far too warm and inviting. And I don’t miss the way Blake eyes her breasts. More than once.
“I would recommend the center cut filet. It’s so tender, it melts in your mouth.” My grip on my fork tightens. Could he be any more brazen with his come-on?
“Oh, that sounds delicious.” There’s no reason to smile so much while ordering food. “I’ll do that in the six-ounce, with the loaded mashed potatoes and mixed greens salad.”
“Excellent choice, you have good taste.”
I swear, if this fucker looks down her dress one more time. Of course, Lexie doesn’t care enough to notice.
“And to drink, perhaps the house red?”
My arm stretches across the back of her chair, fed up.
I’m done listening to frivolous conversation—done letting him stare at her like she’s the real meal.
He doesn’t get to taste her, no one does.
Leaning across her, I force the server’s attention to me while I stare down the pathetic man trying to toy with something that doesn’t belong to him.
She’s not his, and she never will be.
“We’ll take a bottle of the Brunello di Montalcino Riserva.
” My expression speaks the threats that my words don’t.
His face pales at the murder in my eyes.
Looking from Lexie to me, the waiter seems to finally register that he’s made an error.
Luckily for Blake, he’s smart enough to take a step back. His posture shifts with a polite nod.
“Right away, sir. My apologies.” With that, he excuses himself and scurries away like the roach that he is. Lexie watches him go, flashing me a look of irritation that says she knows exactly what just happened. Her annoyance grates against my nerves.
She wants to keep talking to him.
Keeping my arm across the back of her chair, I bring my lips to her ear. “Try to be a little less shameless,” I growl.
Her gaze flickers to me before her eyes roll briefly to the ceiling.
“I was just having a conversation. Waiters are people too, they deserve to be treated like it,” she says as if she blatantly flirts with every waiter she comes across. The mental image only works to darken my mood.
“Why do you insist on talking to everyone who gives you the time of day? Are you really that desperate for attention?” I snap. A breath in only fills my lungs with her delicious scent.
“Probably because I’m starved of good conversation at home.” Her barb hits me dead center. “I’ve got to take every opportunity I can when I’m out.”
“It’s childish. You’re just begging for people to take advantage of you.”
“Maybe I am. Maybe I want someone to take full advantage, Callum.”
Arousal floods through me with her innuendo, seeping into my anger and fueling the darkness inside me. She’s looking for someone to fuck, and she’s making sure I know it’ll be anyone but me.
“No one respects ridiculous women who try so hard to be the center of attention.” She blinks at me, taking a sip of her water as she holds on to her unaffected facade for dear life.
I can see her shiny confidence slipping.
I’m conflicted as to whether or not that’s my goal—break her down, take away any ability to replace me, so I’m her only refuge.
Sick bastard.
“What people think about me is none of my business. I’m not gonna try to take up less space just because other people feel small.
” Something flashes in her eyes, something deeper and more fierce than I’ve ever seen in her.
I’ve struck a nerve, one I wasn’t looking for.
One I’m starting to regret poking at. “How you’re feeling right now is your problem, it has nothing to do with me. ”
My eyes hold hers, pinning her where she sits. The conversations coming from the other side of the table barely register, my attention laser-focused on the woman next to me.
Each breath I take is filled with the addicting scent of her perfume. She’s everywhere, in my head, under my skin, in the air I breathe. Everywhere but where she belongs—in my bed.
Lexie couldn’t be more wrong. What I’m feeling right now has everything to do with her.