She walked straight to the bed and peered up.It was massive.The bed itself was bigger than a king size, but what caught her attention was the canopy that was a good ten feet off the mattress.It looked like a place where giants slept, rather than a mere man.“Tell me the truth—you wait until all your good little Russian men have gone to bed and then you jump on this thing, don’t you?”
“Guilty.”
She shot him a look, but his expression was serious.Keira shook her head.“Everyone’s a comedian.”Shepoked the white down comforter and then ran her fingers down the sheer fabric of the canopy.It looked like something out of some fallen angel’s daydream… until she pictured Dmitri in the middle of it, naked and looking at her like the very devil.
Heat crept up her chest to her cheeks.She turned away and practically ran to the bathroom.It wasn’t any better.She couldn’t look at that shower with its clear tiles without picturing the water sluicing down Dmitri’s body, or examine the claw-foot tub without thinking about him there, his head back and eyes closed.The closet didn’t grant her a damn bit of a reprieve.Suits lined half of the space, each more expensive than the next, and itsmelledof him.Dark and spicy and tempting.
The other half of the closet was empty.
Waiting for her things.
She couldn’t deal withthatany more than she could deal with the fact that Dmitri’s presence was imprinted on this very space.“I’m keeping my room.”
“For now.”He said it the same way he’d said that he wouldn’t force her—as if it was already decided.
As if she’d be there one way or another—sooner, rather than later.
As if he was so fucking sure he’d get his way.
That knowledge, more than anything else, drove her to step closer to him.She didn’t touch him, but she closed the distance until she had to lean back to look into his face.“Dmitri.”
“Da?”
Was it her imagination, or had his voice gotten a little hoarse?She reached up and ran her fingers up the fabric above the top button.Her knuckles brushed the tanned skin just below the dip at the bottom of his throat.Oh yes, hedefinitelyis holding his breath.Keira inhaled deeply as if breathing for both of them, taking his dark, spicy scent into her lungs.She had to be careful, or she’d have traded in one addiction for another.Getting close to this man was dangerous.
It didn’t change the fact that she wanted him.
If anything, his being dangerous made her want him more.
She went up onto her tiptoes, so close that if he moved his head a fraction of an inch, he would have kissed her.“I’m keeping my room.”Keira dropped back down to her feet and turned on her heel.She made it a grand total of three steps before his arm snaked around her waist and pulled her back against a chiseled chest.“You’re teasing me,moya koroleva.”
She tried not to notice how he dwarfed her.Dmitri didn’t look particularly huge, but this close, he felt like a fucking giant.It was everything she could do not to press back against him, to submit to the command in every line of his body.Keira gritted her teeth.“You had something on your shirt.”
His chuckle went straight through her.“You may keep your room, but as of tonight, your belongings will be moved into mine.”
“What?” All the delicious feeling in her body disappeared, replaced by sheer rage.“You can’t do that, you high-handed son of a bitch.”
“I think you’ll learn that I can do whatever I damn well please.”He didn’t move, didn’t abuse the position he had her in, but she felt the promise of his words all the same.
She elbowed him, slammed her boot into his instep, and ducked under his arm.Keira spun to face him, hands up.She might be able to throw a punch, but she wasn’t a martialarts expert.Dmitri really could do whatever he damn well pleased to her and she would be helpless to stop him.
He straightened his shirt, looking at her as if he’d spooked a wild animal.“Dinner.Tonight.You seem to have forgotten our plans the other day.Don’t forget again.”This time, there was no mistaking the threat.Apparently her grace period was at an end.
She lifted her chin.“Game on, Russian.”
Dmitri studied the box on his desk.Generic in every way except its size.It sat in the middle of the desk, a rough three-by-three square.Mikhail stood on the other side of it, his hand on his gun.A gun wouldn’t do anything against whatever was enclosed, but it was good for his man to be alert.“Who sent it?”
“I don’t know.I came into the office and it was here.”
He cut the nondescript tape on the top and opened it.Styrofoam peanuts sat in a perfect layer, but the smell told him everything he needed to know—death.“I need gloves.”
Mikhail went to the cabinet in the corner and returned with leather gloves.Dmitri pulled them on, never taking his gaze from the box.He delved into the peanuts, coming up with a sealed envelope.It contained a plain card with a note scrawled in it.
A preview of what’s to come.
—M
“Where is Keira?”He set the note aside.He’d expected Mae to make a move—she wasn’t the patient type, and ithad to be infuriating in the extreme to know he bested her.It was entirely in character for whatever the box contained to be dramatic—and bloody.Alethea’s leash had slipped before, and it had obviously slipped again.There was no controlling Mae.
