Chapter 17 - Mira
Mira’s marriage was an unending source of contradictions and confusion to her.
Before the wedding, when Williams had walked in on them in the library, Mikhail had acted as though he couldn’t get enough of her. Then just when she’d thought she couldn’t take anymore, he had let her go and never shown any inclination of wanting to touch her in the two weeks since then. He had never attempted so much as a kiss or hug, never mind more intimate touches. For all the indifference he put up, she might as well have been a log of wood dressed in fancy clothes.
Speaking of clothes, she hadn’t had any clothes and he’d bought her such expensive and beautiful clothes that she didn’t even miss her wardrobe at home. But whenever she wore any of those clothes, Mikhail couldn’t even be bothered to work up a compliment, although his eyes followed her everywhere she went.
Then whenever she went to use his library to read and at least keep her mind occupied since she couldn’t go out for now, he was very welcoming. But always, without fail, he left the room within seconds of her arrival.
Seated now in the library, her hands shook a little as she considered the fact that she had been in the room for almost thirty minutes and he hadn’t left. What was going on with him? Perhaps he’d decided to stay with her today?
She didn’t care whether he stayed or not, she assured herself. She only needed him so she could keep an eye on him so she could find out what he truly knew about her mother’s death.
Then why were you almost blind with jealousy when you saw that woman in his arms? a naughty voice whispered inwardly.
She sighed. “I wasn’t blind with jealousy.”
“Did you say something?” Mikhail asked from his position behind his desk.
He was looking particularly delicious today, dressed in a navy-blue turtleneck thrown over a pair of black pants that emphasized his deep tan. Mira kept looking at his Adam’s apple as it peeked out just a little above the turtleneck, and she couldn’t help wondering what he would do if she crossed the room and pressed a small kiss to the bulging point.
He would probably have a stroke and accuse her of offending his modesty and “tender sensibilities,” she thought with a grim chuckle as she borrowed one of Sarah’s favorite phrases from her Regency romance novels.
“You’re doing it again,” he said softly, leaving his seat to come and sit beside her.
She looked up at him. “Doing what?”
“Holding an entire conversation in your head and leaving me out,” he complained.
She shook her head. “That was never my intention, I swear. I thought you were busy with your work.”
His proximity was starting to affect her again. Every time he came near her, she forgot that she feared he might know some secret about her mother’s death.
He was watching her intently with banked fire in his dark gaze. “You seem as though you want me to…to kiss you.”
She didn’t bother denying it. She kept staring at him. Then she shrugged. “You haven’t touched me since the wedding.”
“You told me not to, right after you called me a lecherous old goat,” he reminded her.
Horrified comprehension dawned and she buried her face in her hands as she whooped with laughter. So that was why he’d been staying away from her? The man had the instincts of a true gentleman, despite being a mafia lord. “That’s not true. I didn’t use those exact words.”
“Close enough,” he assured her silkily. Then his voice dropped to an intimate murmur as he cupped one hand around her neck and pulled her closer. “You have the most kissable lips of anyone I’ve ever met.”
She couldn’t resist. “Even Alena?” she asked, laughing up at him with playful humor and mirth.
His own gaze was very serious as he responded, “Especially Alena.”
His kiss was soft, filled with the promise of heat and passion. His hands cradled her closer and she started to press against him, needing this contact with his body, needing to feel him pressed up against her.
He deepened the kiss as though in response to her silent plea and Mira’s heart exulted in her chest.
One large hand firmly curved around her breast even as his lips followed the hand down to tug gently at her nipple through the soft cotton of her T-shirt.
Mira gasped as several emotions assailed her. She wanted him, she realized urgently as she let her hands delve beneath the soft cotton of his turtleneck top.
Just then, her phone vibrated as a message came in. She made to ignore it, but Mikhail wouldn’t let her. He released her at once and nodded toward the phone. “It might be important.”
With a sigh, she opened it, not bothering to hide anything from him.
The message was from her father: I will hunt that man to the ends of the earth, Mira. And you’re going to help me destroy him.
She sighed as she put the phone away. Why did his words sound remarkably like what she’d heard Mikhail say to Williams after their wedding? Evidently they both thought she didn’t have a mind of her own and was simply a pawn for them to use in destroying each other. She would set both men straight, she decided.
But first, I want Mikhail to show me all the interesting things he can do with his lips and hands , she thought with hungry delight as she reached for him.
He met her gaze with eyes that had gone blank and cold. “Did you promise him that you were going to spy on me for him?”
Confusion warred with shock as she stared at him. “I haven’t communicated with him since the day I told him we got married.”
Mikhail strode away to stand by his desk, his gaze locked on her, noting and assessing her every movement. “I still remember how you waltzed in here out of the blue looking for me for some mysterious reason. Every instinct I possessed told me then that you were a fraud and an actress. I knew then that you were only doing his bidding.”
“You’re getting ahead of yourself,” Mira protested.
“Am I? Vlad!” he barked, so angry the veins on his neck were straining.
Vlad came running.
“See to it that Mrs. Nikolai has one of our men with her at all times. Someone vigilant, and sharp as a tack.”
“I don’t believe this,” she spat as she sprang to her feet and headed for the door.
“Follow her,” Mikhail ordered.
As Vlad fell into step behind her, dogging her every footstep, Mira decided it was time she stood up for herself. If she let this new edict stand then she would be tripping over Mikhail’s men every time she turned around. And then how on earth would she find out any of his secrets?
Hastily she entered her room, slamming the door in Vlad’s face. She could hear him speaking immediately on his walkie-talkie. No prizes for guessing that he was sending some men to be stationed beneath her window in case she decided to jump out.
The indignity their imaginations ascribed to her made her grit her teeth. She shed her clothes with measured movements as she changed into a bikini and grabbed a towel.
She yanked open the door just as Vlad was leaning forward to take a listen. She sidestepped and he lost his balance and went careening into her room, cursing ripely as he crashed against the floor.
“Shut the door when you pick yourself up off the floor,” she called.
She strode from the room, right down the stairs to the poolside. She tossed the towel onto the chaise lounge and dove into the deep end of the pool. The water made a satisfyingly mighty splash and she grinned to herself as she began to take measured strokes up and down the pool.
Vlad came running to the poolside, pulling up short when he saw her swimming. He then positioned himself in a corner and stared off stoically into the distance.
The beautiful thing about the pool, Mira mused, was that it was stationed right outside one of the many windows of the library. She knew Mikhail could see her; she could feel his dark gaze on her, almost sense his arousal as he watched her voluptuous body and incredible curves sluicing through the cool pool in the hot afternoon sun.
She would force him out here, she decided. If he thought she needed a babysitter, then he would have to do it himself, she vowed.
She didn’t want to examine too closely why she was doing what she was doing. She just knew her mission depended on this. If she was to find out what she could about her mother, then she didn’t need a legion of babysitters; she needed only Mikhail.