Tonight, I was going to give that family a taste of their own fucking medicine.
I’d aim straight for their heart.
Beatrice Lebedev. The baby. The treasure. The one they all doted on and protected. Her loss would shatter not just one brother, but the entire family.
My new drink arrived just as the Lebedev women arrived. I spotted Beatrice walking in with her arm linked through Kate’s.
For a second, I forgot that it was Beatrice Lebedev. Damn…she cleaned up well.
I found myself unable to look away from the way she walked over to their table, in those killer eight-inch high heels that should’ve been made illegal. She had on this silver, shimmery little number that barely grazed down her ass and clung to her curves like water.
It wasn’t distasteful, not at all. Low-cut, super short, but with full sleeves that clung to her wrists like the world couldn’t handle all of her at once. She held on to her class, even in that tiny, teasing number.
She caught the light with every movement, making her look like she was made of stardust, and I found myself transfixed. She laughed at something Elena said, those dimples appearing like an angel’s.
But there was nothing angelic about her. She was fierce, sexy as hell, and had I not known who she was, had it been any other night, she looked like the kind of woman I would have walked up to and asked for a dance.
Four guards flanked them as the servers laid out bottles of vodka in ice. When Beatrice bent over to pour, I looked away before I caught sight of her gorgeous breasts, spilling out like half-moons through that low cut.
I wasn’t here to ogle.
A couple of minutes later, I looked back to see the girls loosening up. Drinking, dancing, ignoring the world around them. I sipped my drink, watching over the rim of my glass as the women leaned close to hear each other over the music.
Beatrice was the liveliest of them all. Where Elena had the cool reserve of a woman who knew her power, and the others had the cautious demeanor of women who had married into danger, Beatrice seemed… unburdened. She danced in her seat, mouthed along to songs, and beamed at everyone who caught her eye.
It was like watching a kitten playing in a den of wolves.
I tracked her every move, waiting for my opening, which seemed impossible with those guard dogs around.
But it came sooner than expected.
Beatrice leaned across the table, saying something to the others. Then she stood, waving off a guard who moved to follow her and pointed toward the bar, making a drinking motion.
Thank god the club was packed and table service was slow. Whatever Beatrice wanted, she clearly couldn’t wait.
The guard nodded, and I couldn’t believe it. She was going to get drinks alone.
I immediately slid out of the booth and followed, shoving past people to reach the bar. When I did, I noticed Beatrice struggling to get past a group of rowdy college students.
No smoother way into her good books than that, I thought to myself. I moved to stand right in front of her. She registered my presence, just barely, before groaning and trying to shove past the people in front, none of whom were actually ordering any drinks.
I flashed her a grin, and that’s when she looked back at me, and I held her stare. Her lips curved into a smile, just the smallest of ones, and I saw her mind running circles as she wondered exactly what it was I wanted.
I extended my arms, kept my eyes on her, and took a few steps back, my strong body crowding the people closer together until they scattered for more space, leaving an alley for Beatrice to move through.
“Thank you.” She shouted into my ear, one hand gentle on my shoulder as she tried to make herself be heard. I froze in place, her perfume kissing my nose, the skin tingling through my shirt where she touched.
She got back, feet flat on the floor, and I ushered her to the bar before I lost sight of her, and my damn fucking mind.
“Marek!” I bellowed, waving him down with two fingers and a smile.
“You come here often?” She turned to me, wide-eyed, innocent, and clearly impressed that I was friends with the people who mattered.
“Notthatoften, but I know the owner.” I prepared myself to charm the socks off her. This entire plan depended on her not being aware that I was 15 years older than her. I knew nothing of her dating history. From all the research I’d done, I’d figured she didn’t have much experience with men.
“What are you girls drinking?” I asked when Marek walked over. I hinted she’d caught my eye on purpose, and just as I expected, she blushed. “Some fruity cocktail with a ridiculous name? Four glasses?”
“Three fruity cocktails and one vodka water, actually,” she smiled and motioned at her table. “My sister-in-law Kate doesn’t do sweet.”
