Cormac glares at me. “I didn’t carry her off, arsehole.”
“Well, you really did,” corrects Mala. “I mean, I had no idea what was happening when I walked onto your jet. I thought I was marrying that wife-murdering Don in Los Angeles.”
“What?” Morana gasps, and I get to enjoy my brother’s sour expression as Mala tells the story of how she metProfessorMacTavish at the Academy and they carried on an affair before he made a better deal with her arsehole da’ for her hand in marriage. I’m one of the very few who knows they first met for what was, apparently, an incredible night in London before school started.
After a couple of minutes, I realize my fingers have slipped under Morana’s dress and I’m stroking her back. I can feel the silk of her panties and the smooth skin above them, a slight dip just above her ass… are those dimples?
A pointed throat clearing from my brother makes me look up. He and Mala are trying not to laugh. Morana hasn’t moved, but the high color on her cheeks shows she’s not unaffected by my touch.
“We’re dancing,” I say, abruptly pulling her away from my idiot family.
Out on the dance floor, I can spread my hand wide against the bare skin of her back and pull her close. “Have I mentioned how much I like this dress?”
“If I’d known it was chosen for its easy access points, I would have put a sweater over it,” Morana mutters.
Another couple bumps into us.
“Cameron MacTavish, you’re a large enough target that I’m surprised we bumped into you.”
“Nolan O’Rourke? I was just drinking a bottle from your twenty-five-year cask the other night,” I said, holding out my hand.
O’Rourke is an enigma, even in our world where no one is what they seem. He’s blond, and model-handsome, in his late forties but looks younger. He’s made billions in real estate investments all over the world, but his real power is as an information broker.
Unfortunately, getting intel from him almost always costs more than it’s worth.
He chuckles indulgently, taking the handshake. His gaze slices over to Morana immediately. “Why darling, you’re far from home.”
She stiffens against me. “Have we met?”
“No, but I know your father and fiancé - well,formerfiancé,” he smiles pleasantly.
“Do you do business with them?” She’s pale and I feel her shaking, but her lips are set firm in a tight line.
“Not the sort you’re thinking of, dear.”
She relaxes slightly, but I know she’s still rattled. Guiding her over to the side of the floor, I nod to my bodyguards. “Morana, this is Natalia, she will be part of your security detail. Do you need to freshen up?”
Morana’s narrowed glance darts between me and O’Rourke, but she nods reluctantly and walks away with Natalia.
Swinging back to O’Rourke, I go on the attack. “What are you playing at?”
He lifted one haughty brow, “I don’t know what you mean, Cameron. I’m merely greeting old acquaintances.”
“Do you know my wife?” I leaned closer, suddenly furious at the thought, but O’Rourke is both a billionaire and slightly insane, so he’s not disturbed in the least.
“I don’t believe I’ve ever met her formally, her father used to keep her under lock and key,” he drawls, “but of course, Moscow society was looking forward to the spectacle of her wedding to Vadik Stepanov. You quite stole his thunder. I understand he’s rather displeased about it.”
Tilting my head, I watch him for a moment. I know this man is a sociopath, and he enjoys his games, but there’s no one better connected. “Do you have a financial interest with either Bratva?”
“Not at this time,” he shrugs, “I am not interested in human trafficking. So much fuss.”
“Then you’re neither gaining or losing by my recent marriage, yet you went out of my way to unsettle my wife.”
“I did hear the rumors, but with that rather noticeable ring on her hand and your affectionate - though a tad possessive - behavior tonight, that should settle everyone’s speculations.” He brushed a speck of lint off his perfect black tux. “I do hope you have a plan, because there is a firestorm coming your way.”
“When I’m finished,” I say softly, “there will be nothing left of those families but ash, and bone.”
O’Rourke’s looking for something, he searches my eyes for a moment and then nods as if it’s all settled. “I would not bet against you, MacTavish. Give my best to your new bride. Goodnight.”
