Chapter 19
DARIUS
It was game time.
Time to get my head out of the clouds and stop thinking about the woman next to me as the vibrant sexual creature she was, but rather as the pawn that I needed her to be.
We pulled up to the Kennedy Center, and my driver got ready to get out and open the doors. I waved him off, wanting to do this myself.
After all, we were here to make a statement.
The best way to do that was for people to stop and stare. The paparazzi and the media may not have known who I was… but there were several politicians who did. Seeing me open the door for a woman, especially Senator Collins’s daughter, would get people talking.
That was the only reason I did, not because I wanted to be the one whose hand she held as she stepped out.
I walked around the car and opened the door on Anna's side. She didn’t take the hand I held out for hers.
"Anna," I warned. I may have preferred not making a scene, but that didn't mean I would let her get away with not following orders. She had a part to play, and she was going to play it one way or another.
"No, I can't do this. I won't do this, and you can't make me." She sounded like a petulant child. Her arms crossed over her chest, and her bottom lip stuck out just a little.
The urge to pull that lip between my teeth hit me so hard I had to curl my fingers into my palm.
The palm that was itching, wanting to take her back over my knee.
Irritation prickled just under my skin as I took a deep breath. I could handle her being annoying, but I couldn't handle her being so damn cute.
I leaned my forearm on top of the car and peered into the dark interior. "Anna, you have a choice. You can step out of this car willingly and walk down that red carpet on my arm with your head held high, or I can reach in and drag you out by your fucking hair."
"That isn't an actual choice, and you know it," she spat back.
"You're right, it's not. But they are still the only options you have. Make your choice."
She glared daggers at me, her lips pressed into a thin line, and when I reached in again to offer her a hand, she put her hand in mine.
My larger fingers easily engulfed hers as I helped her out of the car. Her skin was ice-cold despite the cashmere, and I rubbed my thumb across her knuckles once—just once—before I could stop myself.
The strangest urge came over me to warm her up. I dismissed the unwelcome desire and tucked her hand through my arm, ready to lead her down the red carpet.
Irritation tingled at the back of my throat for even questioning why I was being an ass to her. I was an ass to everyone. It had never bothered me before, but something about her made me want to reassure her, to comfort her, to care for her.
It was an entirely foreign and unwelcome feeling…but it wouldn't go away.
"Look, we are just here to make a statement. You are also here as a reminder to your mother of what is on the line."
"Are you threatening my life or her reputation?" she asked in a very pointed question.
The irritation in the back of my throat gave way to warmth. She had surprised me, but not in a bad way. It was another hint of the strength she had just underneath the surface, the one that I wanted to pry out of her and explore, even if it was against my better judgment.
"Both," I answered honestly. "Let's hope this reminder is enough to get your mother to do what she's told."
"Why me?" she asked, and I shouldn't have answered. I should have ignored her question entirely, but the way she looked at me, I felt like she deserved to know.
"Because you are the most convenient weakness of your mother's to exploit."
Something passed over her face, but it was gone before I could name it.
She just nodded, tightened her hand on my arm, and started walking. It was like a mask slid over her face. Gone was the confused, angry girl, and in her place was this sultry woman. She moved with elegance and grace, a polite, almost mysterious smile on her dark-red painted lips.
She embodied exactly what that dress was intended for. A woman of confidence, with her head held high, showing off the glittering stones around her neck, and an almost devious look in her eye, like she had a sexy secret.
As we walked across the large, paved entrance area, nearing the brightly lit Kennedy Center, she tripped, just a quick stumble.
I caught her before she could fall, pulling her close, pressing her side against mine. With my arm wrapped around her waist, steadying her, my hand splayed possessively over the curve of her hip. The silk of her dress was warm from her body heat, and beneath it, she was trembling.
"Easy," I murmured against her ear, low enough that only she could hear. "I've got you."
Her breath hitched. Just a small sound, but I heard it. Felt it.
I enjoyed touching her, holding her, even if it was so she wouldn't fall on her face. That was what I told myself over and over: I wasn't touching her because I liked it, because I wanted to feel her pressed against me. It was only to steady her so she didn't draw unwanted attention.
"Sorry," she mumbled. "I don't usually wear heels. At least not ones like these."
I had to suppress a smile. She was turning out to be far more adorable than I had expected, and it was disarming.
"Don't you go to events like this with your mother?"
"No," she answered. Just a single word.
"What about boyfriends, dates, and lovers? Don't they take you out places where you have to—"
"No," she interrupted.
Part of me wanted to scold her for speaking over me, for having answers that were close to being impertinent, but the thought quickly vanished upon our approach to a group of all-too-familiar people.
Gregor, Artem, Damien, and Mikhail were all standing by the entrance with their wives dressed to the nines on their arms. The night just got more complicated. I hated complications.
"Uncle." Nadia smiled, her eyes brightening. "I didn't know you would be here."
She moved out of her husband's grasp and pulled me into a tight hug. Nadia was always a vision and a breath of fresh air. She was the bright, bubbling joy that kept the rest of us from sinking too deep into darkness.
I had never been able to see her in any other way. Knowing that Mikhail protected that light was the main reason I never objected to their marriage.
"What brings you all out this evening?" I asked as I let Nadia go and put my arm back around Anna. Her entire body went rigid, and I felt the sharp intake of breath she tried to hide.
"I'm just here as a tourist. I hear the blend of culture and hypocrisy is not to be missed. Five stars," Artem said.
Gregor stared me down, not bothering with pleasantries or excuses. "I'm here because of you."
The women got quiet, the tension thick between Gregor and me as we stared at each other, each waiting for the other to blink.
"As long as you don’t interfere with my plans tonight. This is your only warning."
"Or what?" he sneered.
There was a reason I met with Artem, Gregor, and Mikhail in private and not with their women present. But if Gregor thought their presence now would change my plan, he was sadly mistaken. I wasn't the one who brought them here. I wasn't the one who started this in front of them.
"Do not test me on this, Nephew," I said, keeping my tone light, my words even.
"I am the one who runs this family in this town," he said between clenched teeth.
"Yes." I nodded. "Because I allow it. Do not forget who runs the family as a whole."
"Okay, that's enough dick swinging for tonight, gentlemen," Yelena interrupted. "I was promised an evening of music and conversation, and nowhere did anyone say anything about a penis measuring contest and too much testosterone to breathe."
The tension seemed to fizzle out for a moment, but Gregor refused to let it die.
"I won't let you blow up all that I have accomplished in this town," he spat. Taking half a step forward, he put himself just ahead of his wife. It was like he was instinctually trying to shield her from me.
Anna flinched, then her knees buckled slightly at the phrase “blow up.”
Her expression went from that sultry mask she wore to shattered in seconds. And despite everything, the panic in her eyes pulled at something I didn't want to name.
It was that same irritation in the back of my throat, that same urge in my chest that I didn't understand.
I wanted this woman to be obedient, not terrified.
I tightened my grip on her and glared at Gregor.
His eyes went wide when he realized what he had said, but his mouth stayed shut. Smart enough to know when he fucked up but too bullheaded to make it right or admit fault.
Then Nadia stepped forward, all bright smiles and innocent sweetness as she reached for Anna's collar. "I love your necklace. It has such an unusual setting, is that—"
Mikhail yanked her back hard, making her stumble on her heels as she fell into him. His arms wrapped protectively around her waist. "Don't touch that, baby girl."
Immediately, the wives exchanged loaded looks. They were used to mafia tension. They knew when their husbands were being cocky or stubborn, and they knew exactly how deadly they could be.
They understood the price that they paid for the comfortable life they lived. They also knew when something didn't smell right. When the tension lingered too long, and when the silent conversations held the wrong undertones.
Nadia's gaze sharpened on the necklace, and I kicked myself for forgetting that she was a jewelry designer. Of course, she'd notice the wrongness of the setting.
Yelena was the first to say something as she rounded on Damien. "Why shouldn't Nadia touch that woman's necklace?"
"Because it's rude to touch what's not yours?" Damien offered. "I hear personal space is very in this year."
Yelena narrowed her eyes at him, seeing straight through his bullshit.
Damien flipped me off before dragging her away, whispering in her ear.
I didn't know if he was telling her some made-up excuse, some pretty lies that she wouldn't believe, or if he was going straight to the truth to salvage his night.
Either way, Yelena knew to keep her mouth shut.
Samara stayed behind, her arms crossed and fury in her eyes. I could not have chosen a better woman for Gregor if I had tried. She knew when to bow to him and let him handle things. She also knew when to call him on his shit, which was endlessly entertaining for the rest of the family.
This time, the fury wasn't pointed at Gregor but rather was aimed at me.
"What have you done, Uncle Darius?"
"Control your woman," I growled at Gregor.
This entire situation was far too public to get too emotional or out of control.
Neither were things I would tolerate.
Anna pulled out of my arms and turned to leave, but before she could even take two steps, her mother appeared.
"Mother," she said, stopping short, her face paling as Senator Collins stood in front of her in a red satin pantsuit.
The senator's gaze raked over her daughter like she was examining a disappointing purchase. Her lip curled ever so slightly.
The expression the senator aimed at her daughter was one of pure malice. Paired with whatever she hissed under her breath, she caused the confident, beautiful woman who was on my arm a moment ago to wilt like a week-old rose.
Anna’s shoulders curved inward, and something dark and possessive twisted in my chest.
No one—not even her own mother—should make her feel small.
Especially not when she was mine.