“I will.”
Chapter 15
Oleg
Oleg returned to his gaudy mansion in Rublyovka two hours before dawn after far too many rounds of blood-wine and toasts.
Ivan’s men surely liked to party, and they were very long-winded. Fortunately, there was now a reward waiting for him when he arrived home.
He poked his head into the office he’d reserved for Tatyana on the ground floor of the east wing.
She was sitting in front of her computer, tapping away at the machine and wearing a very attractive pair of eyeglasses he had never seen before. He watched her from the doorway, contemplating how clever he was that he’d convinced her to be his wife.
“I hear you there,” she said softly. “But I am editing a few details on a construction contract, so you will have to be patient.”
Oleg sat in a chair near the fireplace where one of the servants had lit some oak wood a few hours ago. “I have no problem waiting for what I want.”
Thetap-tap-tapof her delicate fingers on the reinforced keyboard reminded him of rain pattering on a metal roof.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Their blood connection was soothed every time they were together. When she was away from him, he felt a constant restlessness. It wasn’t bad for his focus—in fact, the imbalance kept him sharp—but it put others around him on edge.
But when they were together, his energy felt even. Balanced. Stronger.
“I like having you near,” she said softly. “Is it the blood?”
“No, it’s just me.”
She laughed a little.
He was glad she enjoyed his arrogance, because after claiming her as his wife in private and now in public, he wasn’t likely to ever be a humble vampire.
“Tell me when you are finished with work.” He kept his eyes closed and ruminated over Ivan and his other men’s reaction to seeing Tatyana seated at his right hand.
Ivan—despite his new ear piercing—had been amused and somewhat patronizing, as had his older sons, but the younger vampires at the banquet were properly awed by the appearance of a lavishly dressed, beautiful woman who clearly didn’t fear their boss.
Ivan had never trusted women. He took after Truvor in that, but Oleg was of another mind. He came from a human clan with nearly as many female warriors as male. He credited the faint memory of his fierce human mother with his respect for the power of the feminine.
“What are you thinking about?”
Oleg opened his eyes. “Are you finished with your work?”
“Yes.” She closed her computer and took off the gloves she used around electronics.
The corner of his mouth turned up. “You look like a very sexy clerk in those glasses.”
She took them off. “They’re for blocking blue light from the screen.”
He frowned. “Is this something that can affect immortal vision?”
“I have no idea.”
“Hmm.” He held out his hand. “You have something on your mind.”
“Yes, and yet I was asking about your thoughts.” She stood and walked toward him, but instead of sitting on his lap as he was hoping she would, she pulled over a tufted ottoman and sat on that, putting her hands on his knees. “Are you thinking about Ivan’s brush with death?”
He hadn’t been. That had been too amusing. “No, but how did you hear about it?”
“Rumors fly.”
