Chapter 1 #2
I decide to head upstairs toward the balcony so the mafia boss can get a better view of me.
Unfortunately, I don’t get far. Halfway up the stairs, a woman in a backless gold gown slides into my path, halting my next step.
Her veneer smile alone tells me she’s one of those high-society types who thinks a last name is currency.
“There you are,” she purrs, resting her hand on my sleeve. “I’ve been looking all over for the man who’s got this party in a frenzy. You’re all everyone’s talking about.”
“Am I now?” I retort, pulling my arm away from her unwanted touch.
“Mmm.” She hums with a flirty smile, not the least bit dismayed.
“Everyone knows everyone at these parties, so when a new face shows up, it’s only natural that everyone wants to know who they are.
Especially a face like yours.” Her gaze dips to the ink on my neck and hands before lifting back to my eyes.
She then extends her hand with a practiced flourish. “Kim Hardgraves, at your disposal.”
I glance at her hand but don’t take it, much less kiss it. Her painted smile dips in confusion, but she recovers quickly.
“I’m the governor’s stepdaughter,” she continues, her voice lifting with pride. “So I know my way around a room. I’d be more than happy to show you around and introduce you to the right people. Though,” she continues, her lashes fluttering, “it would help if I knew your name.”
I force myself not to sneer before I reply, “What if I don’t want to be known?”
Her expression doesn’t falter. “That’s fine by me, too. I’m sure I could find other ways to show you a good time.”
Her laugh is soft but practiced. It’s the kind of sound meant to reel men in, but it has the opposite effect on me. I find it shrill and unattractive. Or maybe I’m just disgusted by the way the wedding ring on her finger glimmers under the chandelier light.
Loyalty is something we Petrovs take seriously. If you can’t even be loyal to your spouse, then what kind of person are you?
On that, we agree with our Sicilian comrades and their old mafia proverb—never betray your wife, because if you are capable of betraying a woman who trusts you enough to close her eyes and sleep beside you, then you are not worthy of anyone’s trust.
Though I’m not interested in anything this woman is blatantly selling, I still give her a polite nod. I’m not stupid enough to make any type of scene, especially one that might compromise tonight’s mission.
“I appreciate the offer, but—”
“No buts about it.” She leans closer, the scent of her expensive perfume thick in the air. “You can appreciate it by letting me buy your next drink.”
“It’s an open bar.”
“Never said it had to be here.” She bats her eyelashes at me.
Before I can turn her down, another presence slides in beside me. A slender arm hooks through mine, and the warm, smoky sweetness of black cherry and night-blooming jasmine cleaves through the revolting perfume around me, pulling a steady breath from my lungs.
“Ah, there you are,” Stella says sweetly, her voice honeyed but laced with steel. “I was wondering where you’d wandered off to.” Her smile is radiant enough to disarm, but the piercing green of her eyes is all warning as they land on the woman before us. “Good evening, Kim.”
The socialite’s spine straightens, still smiling, though the lustful haze in her eyes has been replaced with apprehension. “Good evening, Stella. I… um… was just offering to show your friend around. I didn’t realize you two were acquainted.”
“There are entire libraries filled with things you don’t know,” Stella cuts, the faintest curl of amusement in her tone.
“But that is neither here nor there. I’ll take it from here.
” She then turns her head over her shoulder, pretending to study the crowd.
“Careful on your way down these stairs, Kim. Especially on those heels. We wouldn’t want you to trip and damage that pretty face.
It would be such a shame since we all know how hard your plastic surgeon worked on it. ”
“It’s always a pleasure seeing you, Stella,” Kim retorts with a fake grin.
“Wish I could say the same,” Stella beams at her.
Kim’s smile tightens before she drifts off, heading up the stairs instead, afraid Stella might make good on her threat and push her down.
“For a girl who threatened to cut out my tongue the last time I saw her, you sure were quick to come to my rescue,” I murmur with a low laugh, unable to help myself.
“What can I say? It’s been a dull night.” Stella’s fingers flex against my arm, possessive and unhurried. “Don’t make me regret my one moment of mercy, Kirill.”
“It’s Kill, and I wouldn’t dream of it,” I say, my hand sliding over hers as she guides me down the stairs and then toward the terrace. “Mind you, I never thought to bump into you tonight. I didn’t figure a girl like you would attend these kinds of soirées.”
“It’s a necessary evil, I’m afraid.” She shrugs, uncaring of the eyes now trailing our every move.
“I’ve never understood that phrase. What kind of evil could possibly be necessary?”
“I should ask you,” she shoots back. “I’m sure you’re far more fluent in evil things than I am.”
“Ah, milaya,” I sigh, flashing a wolfish grin to our captive audience. “Something tells me your knowledge on the subject isn’t far behind mine.”
Once we step outside, Stella continues to take the lead and guides us across the terrace. If I thought the ballroom was packed, I’m disappointed to find the terrace isn’t much better.
The early December air bites at my skin, each breath turning to mist, yet the press of bodies keeps the chill at bay. The smell of hard liquor and spilled champagne hangs heavy in the air beneath the city’s hard white lights.
Stella isn’t deterred by the cold either, and just keeps moving, weaving us through the throng with her hand still looping through my arm. Normally, I’d never let anyone steer me like this, but since getting close to the Romano clan is part of the job, I don’t mind one bit that it starts with her.
Once we stop at the shadowed edge of the terrace, somewhere we won’t be seen or heard, Stella immediately releases my arm and folds hers across her chest. That’s when I finally turn to fully face her and take all of her in.
“Bozhe moy,” I murmur, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
Fuck me, but she’s a vision. The last time I saw her, I couldn’t deny she made an impression. But tonight—in that dress—with her hair wild and free… Jesus, she’s breathtaking.
But the second she’s sure the crowd’s eyes aren’t on us, the illusion breaks. Her smile drops, replaced by a stare sharp enough to draw blood.
“What are you doing here, Kirill? Has your strip club lost its sparkle?” she asks, her gaze as hard as her tone now.
“It’s Kill,” I remind a second time, “and to answer your question, the club is doing fine. I’m just making my charitable donation of the year like any good and true Chicagoan Samaritan would,” I goad back, doing my best not to lick my lips at the tasty treat standing before me, even if she does have her claws out right now.
“Right.” She laughs sarcastically. “Like you’re the charitable type.”
“What makes you think that I’m not?”
“Just by looking at you. You’re the kind of man who only ever thinks about himself. Selfishness and arrogance have a way of staining the soul. And that smudge is all over you. You might fool everyone here with talks of charity but I can sense your kind a mile away.”
“Is that supposed to wound me, milaya? I hate to disappoint you, but words barely make a scratch on me.” I grin sinisterly while eating the distance between us.
“What about daggers?” Her eyes sparkle as they fix on my Adam’s apple. “I think I could leave a pretty scratch on you with my blade. Maybe I could improve that tattoo around your neck that you seem so proud of.”
My cock stirs awake at the threat swimming in her jeweled eyes. “Are you carrying right now?” She answers with a smile. “A woman after my own heart,” I smirk, loving how she doesn’t step back when I’m all but on top of her.
“Please, stop with the flattery. We both know you’re only flirting with me to piss me off.”
“I don’t flirt, milaya,” I reply, dead serious. “Flirting is for cowards too afraid to say what they want outright. Make no mistake… I’m no coward.”
“So what are you doing right now, if not flirting? What exactly do you want? Why did you really come here tonight?”
I’m here for Kira.
That thought should’ve hit me instantly. But it doesn’t. Not when Stella’s wearing this curve-hugging dress that would look better rumpled on my bedroom floor.
“Right now?” I wet my lips with a slow breath as my gaze purposely travels over the swell of her cleavage. “I can give you a little guess.”
Her smile sours into a scowl. “Enough games, Kirill. Why are you here?”
“Your father asked me the same thing. Almost makes me feel unwanted. Almost.” I wink.
She rolls her eyes and tilts her head toward the night sky, the full moon paling in comparison to the goddess in front of me.
“I should have known talking to you would be a waste of my time.” She begins to step around me, but I instinctively grab her wrist before she has a chance to get away.
“I was ordered by the Pakhan to make a larger contribution to the city I live in. To start making it known that the Petrovs can be just as charitable as your family,” I say smoothly. “Shame you Romanos never learned how to share.”
“What can I say? We’re very territorial.”
“So am I,” I threaten, my blood beginning to run hot with the way her eyes stare deeply into mine. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, tell me the real reason you dragged me out here.”
“I already did. I wanted to know why you’re here.”
“You could’ve asked me that inside.” I tilt my head toward the crowded ballroom. “But instead, you brought me out here where no one can see us together. Why?”
“Maybe I don’t want anyone seeing me lowering my standards by talking to someone like you.”
“You don’t want anyone seeing us together, or you don’t want your father to?”
“Both things can be true.”
“Hmm… and what else doesn’t Romano know about his precious daughter and what she gets up to behind his back?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
I step closer, until our chests press. To my delight, she holds her ground again, not backing away.
“You’re right,” I murmur. “I would like to know.”
Stella keeps her chin held high as my gaze drifts over her face, tracing every detail and curve of perfection.
She doesn’t flinch under the weight of it, but the subtle movement of her throat gives her away.
It’s plain to see that I’m not the only one affected by this encounter, which only fuels my desire more.
“Red looks good on you,” I say softly, twirling a strand of her hair around my finger.
“I think I look better in black.”
My cock hardens to the point of pain at the comparison. Red might be Stella’s color, but black has always been mine—a fact this gorgeous temptress has clearly noticed, and one she’s more than happy to use to taunt me.
“Yes, I bet you do.” I drag my lower lip between my teeth and run my knuckles over her cheek just to feel the softness of her skin. “I wonder what else would look good on you.”
“Is that a proposal?”
“Consider it an invitation.”
“An invitation?” She laughs in amusement while my hand softly glides from her cheek towards her neck.
“Yes, milaya. Consider it an open invitation.”
“And what kind of invitation are you offering?” She breathes out when my hand clutches around her throat.
“Trouble.”
When the word lights up her eyes, my entire body tightens with need. Need to push us both over the edge, until she forgets who we are supposed to be to one another—rivals.
Most women would be scared right about now to have a stranger’s hand engulfing their neck, with promises of chaos. But not Stella. She’s practically beaming with excitement. I haven’t been this captivated by a woman I know nothing about in all my twenty-six years.
“I see my offer amuses you.”
“And what if it does?” She arches a manicured brow. “Doesn’t mean I’ll be taking you up on it.”
“Ah, printsessa, we both know it’s only a matter of time before you do.” A slow grin tugs at my mouth, all heat and challenge.
“First of all, I’m no princess. And second, I wouldn’t sound so sure of yourself if I were you.”
She scowls, clearly uncomfortable with how easily I can read her. Or maybe it’s the printsessa that tanked her playful mood. Either way, we both know I’ve got more than one reason to be cocky—her still not taking my hand off her throat, for one.
“Are you sure?” When her luscious lips thin into a fine line, I know my time is up. “Very well,” I say, stepping back and pulling my hand away from the slender curve of her neck. “Apologies if I was wrong. I thought you’d be up for the challenge. My mistake.”
Before I can turn around and leave her, it’s Stella’s turn to catch my wrist and keep me rooted to my spot.
“What challenge?”
I keep my triumphant smile in check as I lean close to her ear and whisper, “That maybe you’d like to cause a bit of trouble of your own.”
She holds my gaze, defiant. The air between us hums, thick and charged, her warmth ghosting over my lips. I want to close the gap between us, just to taste the defiance on her tongue. But I don’t. Not yet. Not until she begs for it. And Stella Romano will beg. Even if it’s the last thing I do.
I start to pull back, forcing space to come between us once again, when her hand shoots up and curls around my throat. My breath stalls as her fingers burn my skin. She inches closer, her lips hovering just shy of mine, her eyes glinting with pure challenge.
“I’ll keep your offer in mind,” she murmurs, voice low and amused. “See you around, Kill.”
Then she lets go and waltzes back into the ballroom, without a care in the world, all curves and long legs. I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face as I watch her strut back into her domain—owning every step of it.
Ah, Stella… sooner or later, you will be in my bed. That’s a certainty.
My fantasies of corrupting the fiery vixen are cut short by the obnoxious ring of my phone. One look at Misha’s name on the screen and it’s like a bucket of ice straight into my libido.
“Any news?” he asks, in lieu of a greeting.
“Not yet,” I reply, stone-faced, as if my brother could actually see me.
“That’s disappointing.”
“Not really.” I smile more to myself than to him as a plan begins to take shape in my mind. “I think I might have just found a way to get the precise information we want.”
“Romano?”
“Better. His daughter.”