Chapter 22
The last partyI attended was Christmas of senior year. Seventeen, and home from abroad for two weeks, I was desperate to be taken seriously. I’d tried everything I could think of but was dismissed at every turn. So that night, I wore my hair in a high ponytail. Sleek and severe, I chose the style so I’d look more grown-up.
A girl then, I naively thought I could achieve something so crucial with the most basic decision about my appearance.
I certainly caught attention. In doing so, I hovered on the fringes of important conversations with powerful people and studied.
In a matter of hours, I learned being noticed and taken seriously were two very different goals. Being seen was trivial, and fleeting at that. If I wanted to be taken seriously, it required far more than what I presented on the outside. It took more than being noticed. What I chose to say with my mouth, my eyes, and my demeanor, played crucial roles in the outcome.
It was knowing when to say nothing at all and listen instead.
Something I’d been getting good at before Konstantin impaled me with that unforgettable fucking dick of his. Now that we’d crossed all the lines, he is the ultimate distraction I can’t afford.
Deep breath.
I need to channel that energy and hold on to it with everything I have. Collect all those lessons I learned and implement them flawlessly, the impression I leave behind tonight nothing short of unforgettable.
He’ll be watching me for hours, scrutinizing every expression, my body language, and how everyone reacts to me. My job? To let him without giving him a reaction. I have too much at stake to do anything else.
The last thing I need to do is show any sort of divide within our own. Fuck if I will give Vlad or my father even a spec of help figuring out how to hit us the hardest and cause the most damage, or anyone else for that matter. Because Nikolaj will have other enemies there tonight. While their loyalty to the Ophidian Order may keep them in check, as well as their fear of his power being both Bratva and society member, they’ll be looking for any sign of weakness. Details they can hold on to until an opportunity arises to strike.
Nikolaj is right. Marriage is the way. It’s not what I want, but having control over who I marry is far more than I would have gotten otherwise.
Taking in my reflection in the full-length mirror, I smooth my palm over the crown of my hair. The stylist worked wonders. After washing, deep conditioning, shaping, trimming, and drying, he gathered the mass loosely at my nape and wove the strands into a loose flower French braid, guaranteeing my back remained fully exposed.
Feminine and soft, when I am anything but.
I glance at my mother’s solitaire pearl diamond necklace I used to wear and bite the inside of my cheek to chase away the tears. At one time, I thought death put the ultimate distance between us, but this twisted love triangle that defied logic proved me wrong. Exposed truths sucked the soul straight out of my childhood memories and shattered my dreams moving forward.
So I’ll have to forge a new path, find new dreams.
With the lotion I’ve slathered on my skin finally soaked in, I slide my revenge gown off the hanger and step into the opening. The fabric glides snugly along every curve on its way up my thighs and over my hips. Ahmed nailed the alterations beautifully. The bodice plunges into a deep V held in place by nothing more than a delicate clasp on the thin straps behind my neck.
Amazing how such a simple piece holds everything together.
I smooth my hands over the soft, shimmering fabric on my way to secure the short zipper hidden in the ruched fabric cascading over my ass.
An evil little smile curves my bloodred lips as I turn left, then right, watching the thigh-high slit I’d had Ahmed add expose not just my thigh, but a generous glimpse of my hip.
Tonight is going to be brutal for my godfather, and after everything, it is just a taste of what he deserves.
A deep knock draws my gaze to the door. It has to be Dimitri or Grigori because Konstantin, the cocky bastard he can be, would have just walked in. Plus, he disappeared into his lair as soon as the information he demanded from my brother arrived and I haven’t seen him since.
I fix a smile on my face, after all, it isn’t their fault their boss is a shithead, and open the door. My eyes collide with Konstantin’s broad chest where the tie of his tux hangs loose.
Shoulder propped against the doorframe, he holds a gold Christian Louboutin box on his upturned palm.
Leaning my hip against the door, I tilt my head. “Career change at your age? I’m not sure delivery boy was a wise move.”
His jaw clenches.
Direct. Fucking. Hit.
The minute I reach for the box, he tugs it back and holds it over his shoulder and out of my reach. Unless I want to climb him. Which, to be fair, I do. Or at least, my lusty vagina does.
I itch to trail my fingers over the grooves deepening between his eyebrows with his growing anger. He glances down the hall, shakes his head, and steps right up to me, front to front, forcing me to back up.
Kicking the door shut behind him, he flips the lock and wraps his hand around my throat, sending a goddamn shock straight up my spine. His fingers flex along the sides of my neck as if he fights the urge to choke me. The increased pressure ignites goosebumps over my scalp and a flood of shivers from head to toe.
He drags his nose along my cheekbone in that way of his, his mouth stopping right by my ear. “You didn’t seem to mind my age when you were begging me to fuck you, little girl.”
“I did not beg.” The words sound weak to my own ears.
He hears it too, but he doesn’t gloat. He doesn’t need to. His deep laugh along the shell of my ear does it for him. “Yes, you most certainly did. And you will again.”
Fat fucking chance. I’ll be married in a matter of months tops. And then maybe he’ll know a fraction of the hurt he’s inflicted on me.
He walks me back until I stand in front of the full-length mirror again and drops down onto one knee before me.
Flipping the lid off the shoebox, he tosses the red drawstring Louboutin bag aside. Strong fingers curl around my calf, smoothing down over my ankle and under my heel before lifting my foot onto his bent knee.
Heart in my throat choking out the hostile ‘fuck you’ I should have been delivering, I watch in rapt fascination, this side of him I’ve never seen.
The sexy heels pale compared to the sight he makes—all six-foot-seven of him on one knee—submissive, but only voluntarily so. Taking in the view of us in the mirror, a whole other scenario flashes in my mind, an unattainable fantasy I once clung to when anything more between us than our connection as godfather and goddaughter seemed impossible. A young girl’s dream. One that conveniently glossed over any dangers of crossing the forbidden line between us.
Has he ever proposed to a woman before? Hasn’t he dreamed of having a family of his own? Just the idea of him on his knee for anyone else has me volleying between violence and vomit.
I glance down at him to find his hot gaze locked on me—his eyes trailing over my skin from my face to the valley between my breasts. The brief flash of longing in his expression—longing for my mother or me, I can’t tell—spears straight into my heart. Missing the part of me who loves him, it lands in the black corner poisoned with self-doubt and jealousy.
Embracing the bitter taste of knowing Konstantin has never really been mine, my mouth, as sharp as my knife—at times, sharper—delivers another blow. “Did you offer the same services to my mother when my father decided to toss her some dick crumbs and sent you to fetch her?”
The hand holding my foot goes impossibly still. The only sound in the charged air is of his harsh, angry breaths. I am so focused on the ominous silence, the sharp smack landing on my ass makes me yelp, leaving a swift sting in its wake.
Without thinking, my fingers reach for my knife, just to come up empty. The sheath mocks me from the ottoman a few feet away, where I left it to apply lotion.
His gaze follows mine. “You go for blood and you’ll just end up with a ruined dress, brat.”
My mouth falls open, scathing barbs perched on the tip of my tongue, only to slide silently away as his palm stays planted on my ass as though it belongs to him. Only now, he rubs and squeezes, chasing away the sting. “I don’t know what you need more, a brutal spanking or savage fucking—probably both—but your brother will be here in ten minutes, so for once, fucking behave.”
His words set off an ache that throbs through me from head to toe. Or maybe it is the way his hand has gone back to caressing my ankle, then my calf. Subtly, he moves higher, setting off fireworks so powerful, it takes every last bit of resolve to hold back the whimper.
After peeling back the paper wrapping the shoes, he pulls out the heel and turns it over in his hand, examining it from every angle.
“You’re just asking for a broken ankle in these.”
“You just don’t like how I’ll look in them.”
“Mmmm,” he hums, his deep voice only diving deeper as he undoes the clasp. Silent but for our heavy breaths, I sway on my feet as he slides the shoe over my toes and up over my heel.
“I assure you, that’s the part I actually do like,” he says as he secures the delicate strap around my ankle before brushing a light kiss over the skin just above the clasp, “It’s anyone else seeing you in them and getting ideas that doesn’t work for me, Pcholka.” He trails his fingers over my knee and along my thigh, hooking his finger under the slit of my dress.
I suck in a sharp breath, all of my senses anticipating the back of his knuckle brushing over my pussy. I’ll never survive foreplay with this man. Never.
For this fleeting moment, I embrace the fantasy where nothing stands between us. A brief taste of what it would be like if our history didn’t exist and he could be mine. In this room, we’re just a man and woman, insanely attracted to one another, getting ready for a glamorous night out.
Maddeningly deliberate and with cunning precision, as though helpless to get closer to the heat emanating from me, he glides his finger farther behind the fabric bit by bit.
Like Icarus, but instead of being an overambitious boy flying too close to the sun, he finds the narrow path between the sun and sea, giving us both what we need, but pulling us back from our total annihilation.
How appropriate for my protector to find the balance. How fitting he has a set of black wings carved in ink over the length of his back and beyond.
“You’re going to need to work hard to keep this obscene split closed tonight.”
His gruff voice washes over me, leaving me throbbing and desperate. I’ll take our destruction over his restraint. “That defeats the entire purpose of having Ahmed add it.”
Dark, brooding eyes flash up to mine. Mouth tight, his hand clamps on my ankle, locking my foot on his thigh. The hand he used to explore the slit in my gown just seconds earlier, now reaches into the drawer of the nightstand. “Maybe a bit of motivation then.”
I barely catch a glimpse of papers, an engraved money clip, a remote for the fan before the drawer slams shut, making me jump. Eyes on mine, he grabs the edge of the slit and tosses the shimmering fabric over the opposite side, holding it there with his long fingers curling over my hip.
Dress bunched up at my waist, he lays every last part of me bare from the waist down—at eye level with him.
Gaze locked dead center, a whoosh of breath leaves his lungs. With my foot balanced on his thigh, my legs parted and completely open to him, the rush of air skims over all the right places.
His eyes flick to the array of lingerie next to my knives and sheath on the ottoman. “There will be panties covering this pussy when we walk out the door.” A growl tears from his throat just before he buries his face between my legs, his determined mouth closing over my clit.
I can’t stop the groan. My head falls back and my thighs quiver. The hot rush of blood filling my ears sets my heart racing under the bone-melting onslaught.
Stop him! You’ll never survive this!
My self-preservation’s voice grows weaker, sounding farther and farther away with every firm swipe of his hot tongue as he devours me.
Burying my shaking fingers in his long, silver-threaded hair, I hold on as I light on fire from the inside out, white-hot sensations almost painful in the voraciousness pummeling me from every direction.
Pulling back, he meets my gaze, his thumb casually stroking back and forth over my clit. With his mouth coated with my arousal, he gives me the single most sinfully satisfied smile I’ve ever seen. Rolling his lips into his mouth, he sucks every last bit of me from his lips.
“If my every bad decision combined in perfect balance to make a flawless forbidden fruit, it would taste just like you.”
His words rumble through me, as his lips suck me back into his mouth, while his tongue sweeps over me in relentless demand. The orgasm grows swiftly, with a heartbeat of its own, but before it takes hold, he wrenches his mouth away, the pleasure slipping out of reach, leaving me wet, aching, and wanting to punch his teeth down his throat.
I yank his head back with the grip I have on his hair. “What the fuck?”
His eyes flick to my thigh and a smug grin tips his mouth.
I glance down and the blood drains from my face. There, under the gentle glide of his thumb back and forth, he’s signed ‘Malikov’ starting at the inside of my thigh, wrapping around the front dangerously close to where the slit of my dress falls.
A Sharpie marker mocks me from the floor next to his shoe.
“Have you lost your fucking mind?”
“Undoubtedly.” He makes quick work of the second shoe before reaching over to the ottoman, where he picks up my sheath and secures the leather strap to my thigh.
My throat thickens with the unexpected gesture. He knows what I am capable of, but he clearly recognizes how my knives have become integral to my feeling safe. Despite every reason why weaponizing me is about the worst idea he can have, he does it anyway.
I refuse to think about what it means. I will not let this one little gesture worm its way inside me. No.
His eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head. “You know what, I don’t trust you.” He hooks his finger around a pair of panties in the exact same champagne shade as the gown. Holding them open at my feet, he glares up at me in silent command.
Despite being furious with him, I like him like this… looking up at me. Tunneling my fingers into the underside of his hair, tipping his head back even farther, I hold on.
He never looks away, not for a single second. The unhurried drag of the silk thong stokes the fire he started with his mouth. By the time he reaches the apex of my thighs, I am a panting mess with sweat blooming at the edge of my hairline.
I close my eyes, my chest heaving with the effort of my restraint. He took my virginity and I haven’t been touched since. A means to an end, we never had a chance to indulge in the intimacy or foreplay my body was so desperate for. This fleeting taste is excruciating in every way.
My eyes flicker open, locking on my reflection. The woman standing there looks thoroughly fucked despite being brought to the precipice of orgasm only to be denied by the man before her.
Who says the Devil will never kneel? Is there a better disguised evil than feigned acquiescence?
One long finger settles the string between my ass cheeks, deliberately dragging the tip from my pussy, over my asshole, and beyond, eliciting a desperate whimper.
Fingers clenched in his hair, I only just notice how I have tugged him closer, silently begging for what he denied me earlier.
“Mmmm, better.” His impossibly deep voice reverberates along my thigh. His featherlight kiss comes next, a momentary warmth from his lips through the silk followed by infinite nothingness.
With one last lingering touch, he stands.
He takes my chin with his forefinger and thumb and tips my face up to his. “Baby steps tonight, goddaughter of mine,” he says, smirking down at me. “You don’t want to give away all of your secrets.”
I stumble as he lets me go, rage making my blood pump furiously through my veins. My heartbeat echoes in my ears, but not loud enough to drown out his parting words.
“We will talk about what you said to me about your mother when this is over. You and me? We’re going to set a few fucking things straight.”