“Why don’t you recommend something for me to read?” I asked, after the main course plates were taken away, and she still hadn’t spoken.
She finally looked at me, and I hid my triumph. With her love of reading, there was no way she could resist answering that question. Maybe I would even read her suggestion.
“How about starting with the works of Dr. Seuss,” she said, suspiciously sarcastic.
I pulled out my phone and searched up this author, realizing with a flash of anger that she was talking about children’s rhyming books.
“A favorite of yours?” I asked, pretending I wasn’t bothered.
“When I was three,” she snapped.
I gave her a glare, fed up. “I’m not your enemy, Lilia. I’m your husband. It would be better if we got along.”
Now that the dam had cracked, she had plenty to say. “I could never get along with someone like you.”
Someone like me? “I wouldn’t have taken you for a hypocrite,” I said. “You’re a member of one of the biggest crime families in the world.” The compliment almost burned my throat getting it out, despite it being true.
Her lush mouth flew open in outrage. “The operative word is family. Your Collective wouldn’t know anything about how we operate. They’re more like a terrorist group.”
She wasn’t entirely wrong about that. I’d had the same type of thoughts myself when I was particularly annoyed with Luigi and his men. She named off the last three attacks his people had taken against hers and was a little too pleased to inform me of what I already knew. All three attacks had ended in utter failure.
I was impressed with her knowledge and intelligence, and I let her rail against the Collective for a little while. “Go ahead and get your frustration out,” I said. “You deserve it after what they put you through.”
“They?” She was close to hissing; she was so mad. “Aren’t you the head of the snake? Why don’t you take them in hand? Or are you admitting you’ve lost control of your own men?”
That was taking things too far and hitting too close to home. I leaned across the small table, wanting an intimate evening with her instead of hollering down the length of the grand table in the formal dining room.
“Have you ever heard of the old strategy of giving someone enough rope to hang themselves with?”
She should have recoiled from my ice-cold tone and the look I gave her, one that stopped men three times her size in their tracks. She didn’t and scoffed at my reasoning.
“My family would be taking the rope to them, and wrapping it around their necks themselves.”
She wasn’t wrong about that, either. The Petrovs were notorious for stopping coups and uprisings at the first murmurs of dissent. If only I hadn’t landed in this mess when all the plans were already well underway. It was like trying to untie impossible knots in an endless ball of twine. Setting the whole thing on fire would be simpler, but then I’d be left with nothing. I still believed I could salvage something and come out on top.
I didn’t want to discuss my strategy with this impertinent woman, who was too pretty for her own good when she was riled up. I was also exhausted with hearing about how screwed up my organization was.
I changed the subject a bit too fast, ignoring, but also appreciating, her look of triumph. Lilia was definitely more than I bargained for, and another knot in my endless ball of twine. But I still couldn’t get enough of her.
After the last crumbs of chocolate cake disappeared from her plate, I shoved mine aside and reached to take her hand. She froze, not pulling away, but going completely still. Her eyes met mine, her pupils huge. From my touch alone, or was she still terrified of me?
After all her cracks at dinner, I wasn’t overly concerned about alleviating her fear at the moment. Her hand was smooth and cool, and the memory of her body against mine when I held her close returned, so strong I could almost still feel the heat of her. Even with my irritation welling, there was no denying I wanted her. I leaned closer.
“Now I think we should do something that normal married couples do all the time,” I said, grinning at her until it seemed like she would pass out.
Chapter 13 - Lilia
Dinner with Gavril wasn’t as awful as I feared. He actually seemed to listen to what I had to say, even though I spit it all out rather vehemently. My shyness was completely forgotten in my passion to tell him exactly what I thought about the Collective. I got in some jabs about his organization, which, as soon as they were out, I feared a slap. But none came, and he didn’t even look all that annoyed.
Oh, he did look annoyed, but not enough to stop me from speaking my mind. Maybe he really didn’t want to hurt me. Perhaps I could relax.
Then the meal ended, and he pushed aside his dessert plate like I was the surprise finishing course. My blood sped up as my heart tried to climb out of my throat. His look was terrifying, lascivious, and full of confidence that he’d get what he wanted. Sweat broke out on the back of my neck as he took my hand and leaned closer.
I couldn’t move, not even twitch my nose. My hand grew hot under his, the heat moving up my arm to overtake my whole body.
“Now I think we should do something that normal married couples do all the time,” he said, voice low and gravelly.
I was shrinking, but I was still frozen, my eyes locked on his. Was this when he’d finally strike and prove himself to be the beast I was certain he was? Would I be able to fight him? Or would that only make things worse?
