Chapter 18
Dmitri
I’ve hired a driver for the evening. It’s a good fucking thing I did, because if I were behind the wheel, we’d be carnage in a fiery car accident. I’d be too busy staring at Leah to pay attention to the road.
The city lights flicker over her features as we motor along. I raise the privacy screen between us and the driver.
Leah shoots me a sidelong glance. “You’ve really pulled out all the stops, mister.”
“It’s a special night. I want you to enjoy yourself—you deserve it.”
“And you spent so much time talking about my dress, I didn’t get a chance to tell you how hot you look in your tux.”
“This old thing?” I pluck comically at my lapels. “I just found it lying around.”
“Liar. I don’t know a lot about menswear, but I can tell that’s a nice tux, Dmitri.”
“It has to be, to go with your sexy gold dress.”
She grins. “Thank you for the dress. Again.”
“You’re welcome. I am curious, though—is it the kind of dress that doesn’t allow underwear?”
“Ha.” She affects a prim demeanor. “That’s for me to know and you to find out…if you’re lucky.”
“Playing with fire again, baby girl.” I tsk .
“Well, you showed up at Gage’s right when—” Her eyes go wide. Her blue irises are nearly black in the darkness.
Intrigued, I turn sideways in my seat. “When what?”
“Nothing.” She says it too quickly.
“Not nothing. What were you and Gage doing when I showed up?”
“Just…talking.”
“Right.” I lengthen the word, skepticism dripping from it. “Now who’s the liar?”
She shakes her head.
“Naughty girl. Where did he touch you, baby? Or did he make you touch him ? Did he put his hard penis in your mouth?”
“Dmitri!” She pretends to be shocked. “That’s so crude!”
I laugh. “Did he, though?”
She shakes her head.
“Did he touch you, then?” I shift slightly, trying to give my dick more room in my slacks. I’m fucking loving this daddy-girl shit. It’s taboo and sinful and really fucking fun. “Tell me where, baby. Where did your other daddy touch you?”
She looks like she doesn’t want to answer, but I stare hard, silently waiting.
“On my chest,” she finally says.
“Where on your chest?”
“Um.” She bites her lip.
“Was it on your hard little nipples?”
Nodding, she says, “It really hurt, too.”
“I bet it did.” I sound as sympathetic as I can, even while lust heats my blood. “But did you like it?”
Her whisper is so soft, I almost can’t hear it over the sound of the car. “Yes.”
I slide over to sit in the center, right next to her. “Are you wet, baby?”
She nods and tries to look away, out the window.
I nudge her chin, turning her to face me again. “Show me.”
Lucky for me, she doesn’t offer a token resistance. She tugs up the glittering fabric of her gold dress, showing off her long, bare legs. With every inch of revealed skin, my anticipation rises.
She stops when her hem hits mid-thigh.
“Keep going, baby.” My voice is guttural, strangled. It doesn’t sound like my own. “Let Daddy see.”
She lifts her hips and hikes her dress up the rest of the way, bunching it around her waist. She’s wearing a lacy thong, the fabric barely there, temptingly transparent.
Without a word, I drop to the floorboards in front of her. I spread her knees apart. Leaving her thong in place, I lick over and around the fabric. She tastes so fucking sweet.
“Dmitri—Daddy—fuck, oh—” She threads her fingers through my hair, gripping my head.
I use two fingers to move her panties aside, sliding them through her wetness.
She clenches around me and lifts her hips. “Daddy…more.”
The car stops. I glance out the window to see the creamy stone facade of Hotel Rosa Roja, a glorious old hotel in the Salding district.
“We’re here.” I get back on the seat and start tugging Leah’s dress down.
She tries to push me back to the floorboards. “Noooo. I was almost there.”
“Sorry, baby. We have a party to go to.” I lick my fingers and find a cleaning wipe in a door compartment. Wiping away the evidence, I say, “Small talk with strangers.”
“Making friends.” Her voice is mock stern. “And it could wait ten seconds.”
“Ten seconds, huh? That was all you needed to come?”
She glares at me.
“Aw, so sad.” I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the privacy glass. My eyes are glazed with lust, but my smile is calculating. Evil. “We’ve arrived, baby. Time to get out of the car and make small talk with strangers.”
* * *
Leah
We walk into the hotel, where a woman at the door checks our tickets. My legs are shaking with repressed lust. Friction builds with every step I take.
Dmitri gives me a knowing smile. “Sorry about those ten seconds.”
I brush a hand over his shoulder. “You’re a cruel, cruel man, you know that?”
“I try.”
When we step into the dining area, I can almost— almost —forget the crazy arousal Dmitri caused in me.
The place is beautiful in a palette of gray, pink, and silver.
At least two hundred people dressed in tuxes and beautiful gowns mingle at the tables and the edges of the room.
A classical ensemble plays in the corner.
The music is a gentle background to the conversation and laughter.
It's hard to believe that I, a nobody who was barely scraping by, am wearing a fabulous gown and taking part in an event of this caliber. I half expect the woman who checked my ticket to rush after us and tell me there’s been a mistake.
“Incoming brunette who looks like she’s going to hug you.” Dmitri subtly nods to our left.
Sure enough, Olivia, decked in a gorgeous magenta gown, is hurrying toward us. She throws her arms around me. “Leah, you made it!”
“Of course.” I hug her back. Her enthusiasm is contagious. “There are so many people here!”
She glances around and smiles broadly. “There are a fair few. I’m so lucky to have the support of my friends—and my husbands’ friends.”
“Do you three know everyone in San Esteban?” I ask.
She laughs. “Not a chance. Half the people here bought tickets with business names, anyway. It makes it hard to track who our friends are—which is why I’m so grateful you came. You look amazing, by the way!”
“You too!” I step back so I can better admire her. The strapless gown flatters her curves, and her lipstick and shoes match the deep pink. “The pic of your dress didn’t do it justice. It looks even better on you.”
“Aw, thanks. And—is this one of your guys?”
“Ack, sorry. How rude of me.” I give Dmitri an apologetic smile, but he seems chill about being ignored in favor of dress chatter. I introduce the two of them.
Dmitri keeps his left hand on my lower back and shakes hands with Olivia. “It’s nice to meet you. Leah has said many good things about you.”
The three of us make small talk for a couple of minutes, until Olivia says, “So sorry, I have to mingle. If you see Ella or Sam, tell them to find me, okay?”
“Sure. Oh—and Gage is supposed to come through the back. Have you seen him?”
“Not yet. Our security is the best, though, and they know to keep an eye out for him.”
“Thanks so much for letting him use a different entrance.”
“Anytime.” She gives my forearm a gentle squeeze. “I know what it’s like.”
That’s right, she does. Over the course of the few days I’ve known her, she shared some of the absolute chaos of her past. The fact that she seems so calm and happy now gives me hope that someday I might overcome the drama in my own life. Tonight, at least, I can pretend everything is settled.
Dmitri and I wander around. Dmitri snags two flutes of champagne from a passing server. We clink glasses and he grins. “To small talk with strangers.”
“Oh, stop it. Olivia is a friend.”
“She’s a stranger to me.”
“Not anymore.” I bat my eyelashes. “You said more than three words to her. That makes you besties.”
He laughs as we find a quiet area to people-watch from.
Two handsome men in tuxes flank Olivia. They must be her husbands, and I make a note to ask her for an introduction later.
She’s talked about how madly in love she is with them.
From the way they casually touch her and look at her, I can tell they feel the same.
My heart gives a pang of yearning. If Dmitri and Gage got along better, maybe we could have something similar.
For as long as it lasted, I would enjoy it.
I notice a lean, muscular guy with light brown hair who looks vaguely familiar. He’s with a blond-haired woman I’ve never seen before—but when I notice the giant guy following behind him, it clicks.
“Hey.” I tug on Dmitri’s sleeve. “I recognize those guys. Weren’t they at Patrick’s party? Edward? And Troy?”
Dmitri frowns. “Close. It’s Edmund and Troy. Christ, I can’t get away from those guys no matter what I do.”
“Are they…bad news or something?”
“They’re with the Layton family.”
“And…”
“The Laytons? You haven’t heard of them?”
“No.” I put a hand on my hip, frustrated. “Should I have?”
“Fuck.” He shakes his head. “I…shit, this isn’t the place to tell you.”
“Tell me what? Because whatever it is, now you have to tell me.”
He takes my hand and stares into my eyes. His voice is firm, but kind. “Leah, this is the worst time. Later, okay?”
Edmund’s gaze swivels in our direction, and I freeze. Does he know we’re talking about him? He starts forward, the blond woman trailing behind him like an afterthought.
Dmitri lets out a frustrated groan. “Oh, shit, here he comes.”
“What is the problem?” Inside, I’m seething. But I keep my voice low, and a smile on my face. “This conversation isn’t over, Dmitri.”
“It is for tonight.” He glares at Edmund.
“Oh yeah? Who died and made you boss?”
Edmund is close now, about ten yards away.
Dmitri grits his teeth. “If I’m your daddy, then I’m the boss. No one had to die.”
Because he’s Daddy , he’s the boss? I put my hands on my hips. “You asshole?—”
Edmund, Troy, and the woman are too close now, so I can’t finish the tirade I’m about to go on. But this is absolutely not over between Dmitri and me. He can’t pull the daddy card to win an argument; that’s not how this works.
“Dmitri Aseyev.” Edmund grins, his white teeth looking less friendly and more threatening. “What are you doing in the Salding district?”
“It’s Montrose, not Aseyev. And I’m here for the benefit.” Dmitri’s stance is stiff and annoyed. “Obviously.”
“We’d prefer if you spoke to us before wandering into our neighborhood.” Edmund brushes an invisible piece of lint from his sleeve. “It could be dangerous for you here if the wrong people catch you.”
Dmitri doesn’t respond. A long, tense silence stretches between us. I look back and forth between the men. Troy scowls.
The blond woman behind Edmund, in a sparkling black gown, taps Edmund’s shoulder. “Eddie, let’s go.”
Troy’s scowl deepens. He doesn’t appear to approve of Edmund’s date.
“Leah.” Edmund smiles again, and this time it seems genuine. “Tell Danica that Troy and I say hello.”
“You fucking bastard .” Dmitri starts forward.
Troy moves in front of Edmund, just as fast.
I smoothly step between the guys, causing Dmitri to stop abruptly. He’s coiled behind me, ready to spring.
“Hey.” I paste on a smile. I’d hate for this kind of drama to ruin Olivia’s benefit.
Her organization deserves better than a bunch of testosterone-fueled gorillas smashing through the dining room.
“We’re here for the benefit, not for…whatever this is.
We’ll keep to one side of the room, you keep to the other. Does that sound fair?”
“Of course.” Edmund’s voice is smooth and calm. His green eyes glitter like emeralds. “Leah, it was a pleasure.”
His date wraps her hand around his arm and sends a fearful glance back toward Dmitri. Troy’s expression is far more menacing, but he follows along as well.
I spin around and face Dmitri. “Explain.”
He’s staring after them, not looking at me. Through gritted teeth, he says, “The Laytons are a crime family.”
“Cool.” Although it isn’t cool—it’s kind of scary. I’ve had enough crime, and no thank you, I am not interested in hanging around a crime family. But there has to be more to it for Dmitri to be so aggressive toward them. “And…?”
“And so are the Aseyevs.” His eyes are cold like the Arctic sea. “The two don’t get along.”
It takes me a long moment to connect the dots. The Aseyevs. The Laytons. Crime families.
Dmitri’s family is in organized crime? It shouldn’t make sense, but in some ways, it does.
I remember looking at all those old photos of Danica’s grandfather and his friends.
Danica and I had so many wild theories. They were true, some of them?
And neither Dmitri nor Danica have said one fucking word to me in all the years we’ve known each other.
Maybe it’s a stupid thing to feel upset over. After all, Dmitri and I hid our relationship from Danica. Maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe hiding important shit from each other is just something people do.
But my eyes are tearing up and I’m starting to lose my composure. This isn’t the place for fights or freak-outs.
Dmitri reaches for me, his face pinched in regret. “Hey, I’m sorry?—”
“I—I need a minute.”
“Leah, don’t run off?—”
I hold up a hand in a stop gesture. I’m not going to run, not like I did to Gage. But if I stay here another second, I’m going to start crying in front of everyone. “A minute. Maybe five.”
Maintaining a placid expression as I leave the ballroom is difficult.
I focus on each step, struggling to keep my balance while I hold in tears.
I hope I’m managing myself okay. Olivia is a new friend, and a good one.
I’m sure she wouldn’t judge me for crying at her party, but I’d really rather not.
Finally, I make it to the hallway and see a sign for the restrooms. I hustle past a few random people who I don’t make eye contact with. Gaze down, just reach the destination. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.
There. I step into a calming room decorated in peach and baby blues. The polished wood bathroom stalls stretch floor to ceiling. This is by far the nicest public restroom I’ve ever been in.
Someone comes in after me. I quickly duck into one of the stalls and lock the door.
There, I breathe deeply in and out. Keep it together.
Keep it together. Present Leah has to calm down so she can go out there with a happy face.
Future Leah can cry and kick Dmitri’s ass—maybe not in that order, or maybe simultaneously.
After a few minutes, the main door to the restrooms opens and closes. I think the second person left, but I didn’t hear her heels on the floor, so maybe this is someone new who came in. Doesn’t matter. I’m ready to go back to the party—or as ready as I’ll ever be.
My face is probably still red. I hate that it gets this way when I’m upset. I’ll pat some water on my heated skin to cool off.
I step out of the stall. Water on the cheeks. Then I’ll be ready to face the party once more.
Instead, I’m faced with none other than Nicola Johnson.
She sees me and smirks, then reaches behind her and locks the door.