Chapter Six #2
Ivan huffed a sigh and poured himself a drink.
“You know how it is, Dima. Things have not been stable for the last few years. Kirill and Sasha blame your missteps. The family back home is considering sending someone to monitor the situation.” He downed the vodka in a single gulp and poured more.
“It is a good thing you have married this O’Malley woman and put some of that to rest. A very good thing. ”
Dmitri had to work to keep any expression off his face.
He’d known the extended family had lost confidence in him, but he hadn’t realized how far it’d gone.
If he read the situation right, the only reason Ivan had shown up was to honor their friendship.
If Dmitri was anyone else, Ivan would have passed on the invitation as well. Fuck.
It wasn’t the end. He still had time to fix things. The wedding reception would go a long way toward repairing the hits his reputation had taken—especially if the O’Malleys showed up. Even if they were furious, their presence would demonstrate that he had the upper hand.
The Eldridges were a different story altogether.
He had to take decisive action there, and he had to do it as soon as possible.
Damage control. Mikhail hadn’t gotten any satisfying answers about the package in Dmitri’s office.
For all intents and purposes, it had appeared there magically without assistance.
Which meant he had a traitor.
The door leading deep into the house opened.
Dmitri’s relief died a terrible death as Keira stepped into the room.
She wore… It took every single ounce of control he had to keep his expression neutral.
He didn’t have a damn bit left for words, and wouldn’t have been able to find them in any case.
Her lips were the same color red that they’d been the first night he met her—the same night she’d rolled that decadent body against his and offered to fuck him…
and then lifted his wallet and his watch.
Her newly dark hair had been pinned back in some artful just-fucked look.
And the dress.
It covered her from neck to wrists to floor, except a diamond-shaped cutout that stretched from the bottom of the collar—and the thick neckline bracketing her throat couldn’t be termed anything but a collar—to just above her belly button.
That cutout alone wouldn’t be enough to stop him in his tracks.
The fact that the dress was completely transparent did.
The smaller diamond pattern carved out of the fabric did nothing to hide her rosy nipples or the fact that she was wearing black panties.
She looked like a caged wild thing—proud and furious and determined to punish him if given half a chance.
They stared at each other for the space of a single breath. Then her red, red lips curved into a small smile. “Hello, husband.”
Ivan shifted, and reality slammed into Dmitri.
This man might be as close to a friend as Dmitri allowed himself—might be family—but he still couldn’t guarantee that Ivan wouldn’t do something to damage his power base.
If Dmitri fell, it would open up a space for an ambitious man, and Ivan and the others were nothing if not ambitious.
He crossed to his treacherous wife and took her hand. This close, he could hear the dress slither as she moved, the beading in the pattern making it cling to her body. “You’re playing with fire.”
“Maybe I like the burn.” Her smile never wavered, even as her attention shifted over his shoulder to where Ivan watched them avidly.
“Mmm.” He leaned closer to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “And maybe I am going to cut that fucking dress off you tonight.”
“Ah-ah, Russian. You’re showing your beast. Rein it in.” Her grin brightened, and she lifted her voice. “Who is this delightful creature? Sir, you look like the proverbial Russian bear that I hear wanders Siberia.”
It was official. He was going to kill her.
The little rebenok had known if she showed up late, she’d tie his hands.
He couldn’t drag her out of the room to change without broadcasting the fact that he didn’t control his wife.
This man might be a friend, but he’d take that information back to the men he answered to, and it would be nothing good for Dmitri.
And even if Ivan didn’t stab him in the back, he would tell Kirill and Sasha, and they’d made their alliances clear.
The only course of action was to move through the meeting while acting as if he wasn’t torn between wanting to turn her over his knee and wanting to fuck her against the wall. Both. I want both. And, damn her, Keira knew it.
Ivan walked over, his bushy eyebrows raised. “Charming creature, aren’t you?” He took her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckle for a full three seconds too long. “I am desperately in love with my Natasha, but if I were a younger man and single, I would steal you away, married to my cousin or no.”
“It seems I’m not the only one who’s charming.” Her laugh boomed out, sounding happy. Keira cast a glance over him that was just shy of an invitation, but then shook her head in mock sadness. “But I’m afraid it wouldn’t happen. My Dmitri keeps me more than satisfied.”
My Dmitri.
It was an act, but the words still rang through him. If he had his way, his wife would have already been satisfied several times over today, but the only person who knew it hadn’t happened—wouldn’t happen—was Keira.
“My Natasha would like you, I think.” Ivan gave Dmitri a lingering look.
“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
He transferred that look to Keira. “You should. Excuse me.” He headed back to the bar and poured himself a double.
The night was going nowhere fast. Dmitri had expected some rebellious act, but this was… something else altogether. Keira allowed him to take her hand, her dress shifting around her. Her pale skin shone beneath the black beading, and his attention was drawn back to her nipples again and again.
“See something you like?” she murmured.
Yes. He hated it, but he also fucking loved that dress.
He wanted her to wear it for him at a private dinner, where he could touch her, could drink in the sight of her, without eyes on them.
The fact that there were eyes on them—on her—had him speaking without intending to.
“You look like a high-class sex worker.”
“Isn’t that exactly what I am?” Her smile never wavered, and she didn’t look at him.
“You might not have paid in cash, but you bought me all the same.” With that, she expertly detached her hand from his and moved to perch on the single chair next to the fireplace.
“Ivan, you must tell me how you met my darling husband.” Her hazel eyes twinkled, and he almost believed the lie in every line of her body.
“I’m sure you have some hair-raising stories to share from his formative years. ”