Chapter 41
I nearly drop my phone when I glance up to find Emilio and Antonio entering the room.
That doesn’t look suspicious or anything.
Antonio’s gaze pings from me to Emilio. “Innocent?”
“I’m emailing my sister,” I blurt. “She needs money.”
I clutch the phone tight, hoping they don’t think I’m up to no good.
I want to prove to them that they can trust me.
Emilio said he didn’t want to hurt Dasha. I believe him.
Aleksy, on the other hand? I’m not so sure.
“The runaway sister?” Antonio asks.
My throat is dry as I nod.
Antonio peers at Emilio. “Good luck with that. I want to see you first thing in the morning.”
He leaves the room, and Emilio strides toward me.
“She doesn’t have my new number,” I say in a rush. “We’ve emailed. That’s it.” I jump up and thrust the phone into his hands.
His brows draw together as he scrolls through our emails. Exhaustion is clear on his face.
A twinge of guilt hits me when I say, “If you can just take me to the ATM and then somewhere I can wire her the money, I promise, I won’t do anything stupid.”
He hands me back my phone. “Why does she need it?”
My tone turns somewhat harsh. “Uh, because she’s on the run from my brother and the freaking Bratva.”
He scratches his cheek, ignoring my attitude. “How much?”
“All the cash I can get her.” I make a swooping motion toward the door. “I have plenty in my savings.”
“My wife doesn’t pay for anything.” He looks at me as if I’ve offended him in the worst way. “Has that not been understood since the beginning of our marriage?”
“But it’s not for me. It’s for my sister. The woman who ditched you at the altar.”
“Exactly. And for that, I’ll throw in an extra ten grand for her.” He smirks. “I wanted you anyway, so her running worked out in my favor.”
I blink at him. “You what?”
He takes a step toward me, closing the distance between us. “The night of our wedding day, before you made escape attempt number one, you asked why I made you move in with me when I hadn’t enforced the same rule with Dasha.”
“In the kitchen,” I whisper, leaning into him as goose bumps form. Memories of that night sweep through my thoughts.
His stance is wide as he stares at me, not breaking eye contact.
“I never wanted her. Never even entertained the idea of living with her. But you?” He reaches out and brushes his knuckles over my cheek.
“I did. That’s why I made it the only change in our deal when I could’ve made Aleksy give me a hell of a lot more. ”
“We hardly knew each other,” I rasp out, nuzzling into his touch.
“Trust me, I’m the last fucking person to believe in the moments.
It wasn’t love. I don’t do love. But it was something.
Something I only felt with you.” He tilts his head down to kiss the top of my head and pulls away.
“Now, come on. I’ll call the number she emailed you from my phone.
We’ll get her the cash, and then we’re going home. ”
I show him the number, and he dials it.
Dasha answers right away.
Emilio talks to her, setting up arrangements.
I look at the time on my phone.
It’s nearly one in the morning.
After he ends the call, he runs his hand through his hair. “This night is never-fucking-ending. Come on.” There’s frustration in his tone, but it’s not toward me.
It’s toward Dasha.
The day.
All his problems.
I eyeball him skeptically. “Are you serious?”
“Yes, and if this is some kind of setup, she’ll regret it.”
“It’s not; I swear it.”
Emilio was right.
This night is never-ending.
When we exit Lucky Kings, there’s a new car waiting for us with the darkest-tinted windows I’ve ever seen. I ask who it belongs to, and he says it’s for whoever needs it. Then he drives us to a high-rise building that turns out to be his condo in the city.
“So, you’re selling this place, right?” I ask, eyeing the living room and calculating how easy it could be used as a mistress spot.
I’d hate to have to burn this entire building down if Emilio got that idea.
“If that’s what you want,” he says before disappearing into a room.
When he returns, a large duffel bag big enough to fit a body is slung over his shoulder.
Our next stop is a run-down twenty-four-hour diner just past the city limits. Emilio pulls into a space under a light and beside an older baby-blue Escalade.
I recognize the vehicle immediately.
It’s David’s, the guy who lived across the street from our family home. He and Dasha had a thing years ago.
She used to sneak out with him during her teens, and he took her virginity. But as far as I knew, it was never anything serious between them.
“Stay here,” Emilio says, reaching into the glove box. He pulls out his Glock, shoves it beneath his waistband, and steps out.
The Escalade door opens.
David climbs out, looking stressed, and walks toward Emilio.
They start talking.
I lean forward, craning my neck, searching for Dasha.
The second I see her, I fling the door open and run toward her.
“Dasha!” I choke out, wrapping my arms around her. “Oh my God, you’re okay.” I pull away, gripping her shoulders, and look her over. “Where have you been? Are you safe?”
She gives me a tired smile.
Her eyes are dull. Her hair matted.
But she’s alive.
I ignore Emilio’s warning glare as we walk over to them. It’s clear from the way his voice drops that he’s hurriedly ending whatever conversation they’re having so we don’t hear.
Without a word, he walks to the sedan, and we follow. He pops the trunk and pulls out the black duffel bag.
“Fifty grand,” he says.
Dasha reaches for it, but he yanks it back just as her fingers touch the strap.
“You take this, and you’re done calling my wife for money. No more dragging her into your problems.”
He drops the bag on the ground, and it falls at her feet with a heavy thud.
“You want to call her to talk? Fine,” he goes on before thrusting his finger into his chest. “But if you need money, you call me.” He moves his finger to point at me. “Not her.”
“Damn,” Dasha whispers, staring at Emilio in awe.
The complete opposite of how she looked at him at their engagement dinner.
My husband is standing on business for me.
To protect me but also help someone I love.
David grabs the bag from the ground and swings it over his shoulder.
Dasha hugs me again. “Maybe I should’ve married him,” she whispers into my ear.
“No take-backs,” I say, staring over her shoulder at my husband.
He’s all mine.
Emilio’s eyes meet mine and soften.
I smile in satisfaction and happiness.
He meets my smile and jerks his head toward the car.
Time to go home with my husband.
The lights are on in the house when we walk in, but my tired mind doesn’t think to wonder why.
The second Emilio shuts the door, I launch myself at him.
I loop my arms around his neck and smash my mouth against his.
He tastes like cinnamon.
Soo good.
I love it.
Moaning against his lips, I start fumbling with his belt.
Desperate and needy.
He grabs my wrist, stopping me. “Wait.”
I whine, my breathing labored as I inch back and frown.
“Does this mean I’m good to go?”
I turn slowly, mortified to find a man around Emilio’s age emerging from the dining room. A laptop is in one hand, and his phone is in the other. He glances between us, amusement clear on his face.
My cheeks flame, and he smirks.
Kill me now.
Emilio releases a heavy breath. “Liliya, this is Franko. He’s one of our security guards. He was keeping an eye on the house.”
I shyly wave at him, unable to meet his eyes. “Hi.”
“No, you’re not good to go,” Emilio says to Franko. “You can wait in your car.”
I peer out the window, now realizing I missed that there was another vehicle in the driveway. All that was on my mind was fucking my husband.
Franko salutes us. “You two have a nice night.”
He’s out the door in seconds.
The courage to become a sex kitten and attack my husband is gone.
I glance around, biting into my lip and scratching a nonexistent itch. “So, that’s why you stopped?”
“Yes.” Emilio steps closer, and my breathing hitches. “If another man saw you naked, I’d have to pluck their fucking eyeballs out.” He brushes hair from my face before stroking my cheek.
Such a gentle touch while his words are so murderous.
“You’re for my eyes only,” he says, emphasizing each word.
I trail my fingers down his chest and whisper, “And the same with you? For my eyes only?”
He smirks. “Are you saying you don’t want another woman touching me?” He dips his head, lips running over my jaw.
I tilt my head, giving him better access. “I doubt I can stomach the whole eye-plucking part though. So, how about we just don’t risk it?”
He groans. “I love it when you ramble.”
His mouth moves to my neck, sucking gently, and heat surges through me.
My thighs clench.
I giggle when he lifts me off the ground and tosses me over his shoulder. He rushes up the stairs, taking two steps at a time, and my body bounces with each one.
He kicks open the bedroom door, turns on the light, and lowers me to my feet. “Let’s finish what you started downstairs.”
I smile innocently. “What did I start?”
He closes the distance between us, roughly shoving his hand down my shorts without bothering to unbutton them. “Oh, now she wants to play innocent?”
I shut my eyes, squirming as he tries to nudge his fingers beneath my panties. The space is too tight.
“If you want more,” he says, his voice deep and dark, “lose the fucking panties.”
I grin before slowly peeling off my shorts and panties and stepping out of them.
Emilio is back on me in seconds.
Our mouths crash together, messy and breathless.
We claw at each other’s clothes.
He throws my shirt and bra across the room.
I fling his against the wall.
When I fumble to unbuckle his pants, he bats my hand away and does it himself.
We’re tired, our movements frantic and messy.
“Does my wife want her husband’s cock?” Emilio asks, stroking himself, staring straight into my eyes.
My gaze drifts from his eyes to his cock.
Both my mouth and pussy are drenched for him.