She huffs out a faintly amused breath, but something in her gaze tells me she’s torn between entertaining this and closing herself off again.
“If it bothers you, then I’m sure we can have the driver turn around so I can change.”
“Don’t you dare,” I murmur, grip tightening by a fraction.
Her lips pull faintly at that before she looks out the window, leaving the space feeling charged between us.
Despite still being cold after everything we felt together, she doesn’t push my hand off, yet she doesn’t lean into it either.
It seems like she’s testing me somehow, likely wondering just how far I’ll go to have her again.
Little does she know, I’ll go as far as I can take it.
The rest of the drive is quiet while that tension continues to simmer between us, along with something else. Something unspoken and fragile in a way that’s fucking terrifying.
All the while, I have to remind myself to behave. To otherwise keep my hands to myself at least until we get back home. Maybe then she’ll warm up to me again.
We arrive at the high-end restaurant, following the velvet carpet inside while I keep Kat close to my side, hand on her lower back, which makes her tense slightly.
I feel the weight of their gazes the moment we’re led into the sitting area, and it’s obvious they’ve been waiting for this moment. Waiting for the chance to either congratulate me or ream me out for going off course.
It isn’t every day that a Lukov gets married, and unfortunately for them, I did it without my family as my witnesses.
Instead, Katya has only been a name to them and a piece in this puzzle against the Balakins.
Of course, it isn’t ideal for us to have one of them at the table with us. Fortunately, she isn’t one of them anymore. Technically, she’s one of us.
Roman’s eyes reach Kat first while he assesses her, then he looks at me with cold control. I can already tell there’s so much he wants to say to me, but he keeps it minimal for now.
“Sergey,” he says almost plainly.
“Roman,” I murmur, doing my best to take the high road while I pull out Kat’s chair for her. I glance at the others, feeling vaguely smug for some reason. “Others.”
There’s a hint of tension around the table, almost like everyone is waiting for the bomb to go off. Ivan leans back in his seat with a smirk like he’s anticipating the train wreck, while Mikhail has a similar expression, and Nikolai sips his drink with his usual quiet observance.
Elena is the only one who gets up and hugs Kat, catching her off guard.
“You look stunning, Kat,” she says with a warm smile before introducing herself and the other wives, giving them the chance to speak up as well.
I catch as Kat thanks her and manages to slowly find her stride with the women, but I find myself focusing on my brothers and their reactions.
Roman looks like he’s navigating a storm inside himself while the others subtly take in my wife. Assessing her, surely.
Of course, they’d never say much about it, but I can only imagine what they’re thinking.
It’s both satisfying and enraging, and I do my best to keep myself in check while I join them at the table.
As we settle in, my hand returns to her thigh beneath the table, and while she allows it, I can still feel how rigid she is, almost like she’s bracing for an actual war.
I want to reassure her that everything will be fine, and that I’ll personally ensure it, but I let my gentle caress communicate it for me.
Roman doesn’t take long before he speaks up.
“So, this is what you’ve been hiding away, Sergey?”
I smile to myself as I reach for my wine glass. “Not hiding…just enjoying.”
“Enjoying,” he says with a low scoff. “You’ve always been indulgent. That’s bold for someone who couldn’t follow through.”
