No. I was not sneaky. But it was no less effective when I was able to distract everyone with my foot waving antics and snatch Daniil’s cell from his hand without many noticing. The important ones were my family, and they didn’t see a damn thing because they were too busy standing and evaluating my swollen red foot. In hindsight, it was better not to kick someone made of steel with only flip-flops on.
Half of the table was looking at me like I was crazy.
The other half were snickering or flat out laughing.
And one lone man glared.
With my family squatting down, seeing to my foot, I mouthed, “Not. A. Fucking. Chance.” Then I smiled. Sweetly. Right before I dumped his cell into my water glass.
It made an oddburzpsound and then the screen flashed off under water.
He scowled harder, his gaze downright scary, but I just beamed at him as the table really started hooting. That was until my dad’s head shot up, and he leveled them with a look. He didn’t find it funny that I was hurt. And neither would anyone else as their snickering cut off abruptly, pretty much all of them sheepish in the face at my dad’s displeasure.
All except Daniil, who took my water glass after Dad turned back to my injury. He stuck two long fingers into the glass, pulled his phone out, and dried it with his napkin calmly. All while staring at me. His expression had turned…to nothing. Calm and quiet.
Somehow, I didn’t think that was a good thing.
“I still don’t see how you did that,” Mom griped as we walked out of the restaurant.
Two ice bags later, I was able to walk normally even if my foot was still red. It wasn’t broken, but it was sore. Trying not to let it show, I complained, “I told you I was popping my foot, and it bent too far.” I wiggled it, keeping the grimace at bay. “See, it’s fine.”
She bent down, evaluating it one more time before sighing and standing. “Are you sure you don’t want to ride with us instead of going up the bus stairs?” She eyed me skeptically before turning her attention to half the men in the group who she and Dad had pestered all throughout the rest of our meal. Even through dessert. I was never going to live this down.
“I’m sure. I’ll see you later. I have work to do.” Not completely a lie. I was going to have to deal with Daniil, who had been decidedly mute the rest of the time at the table.
“Fine.” She kissed my cheek. “We’ll see you later, then.”
Dad hugged me.
Aunt Susan winked at me.
And Katie alternated staring between Torrez, Lev, and Artur.
When they were out of eyeshot, I walked slowly—my foot seriously killing me—to the group, dreading this, but it needed to be done. Daniil waited until we were halfway through the aisle of the bus, back where only Lion Security could see us, before his hand shot out, gripping the back of my neck where he walked behind me. Yep, he was pissed.
I didn’t fight him because I wanted to keep this conversation private, away from the competitors in the front of the bus. So I waited until we were seated to start whacking at his arm. “Let me go, Daniil.” I whacked his arm again. “You’re acting like a barbarian.” Another solid whack—doing no good. “You can’t just go around killing everyone who hits on me! Or hasn’t even hit on me, but might. That’s pure lunacy.”
A split second later, his mouth pounded down on mine.
My head slammed back against the window where he held me, kissing the shit out of me. Sadly, after the shock wore off, it turned me the hell on. I knew I should probably be upset with him, but knowing and actually doing are two very different things. Instead, all I felt were the damn fireworks. And it felt like the Fourth of July erupted between us.
Somehow, I was suddenly flat on my back on the two seats with him on top of me. I knew everyone in his group was listening since the back half of the bus was quiet. I shook my head, whispering, “Daniil. Stop.” His mouth went to my hickey where he bit me solidly, gripping me. I hissed, “Your kids, Daniil!”
“Yes.” Grigori’s voice could be heard, his tone dry. “Your kids, Papa.”
Eva groaned, sounding like she was getting sick.
Artur hushed her.
Roman was the only silent one.
I guess one out of four wasn’t bad. It could have been worse.
Daniil stiffened over me, and then licked over his fading mark, being silent. Honestly, I wasn’t sure how silent we had been before. When the explosions went off, the world disappeared around us. He lifted his head, his black hair blanketing down around us as he whispered harshly, “I will kill him if you go on this date.” He was serious.
I shook my head, his hair tickling the sides of my face, leaning up and whispering just as brutally, “You will not! If you keep this shit up, I’m going to walk.” I paused, letting him see that I was serious. “I may not agree with violence, but I do understand protection. I get your mentality on that fact. Protect your family. Your loved ones. Your colleagues. I can only hope with words, not with fists or guns. But you killing him is not about protection. It would be flat out murder. He has done nothing to you, and you’re acting like a spoiled executioner, getting your way with only a few taps on your cell phone.” I stared hard. “Is that what you are, Daniil? A murderer? A monster?”
He was silent as he stared down at me with a crazy look in his eye. “I have been called that. But only to those who attack me first or threaten my family.” He paused, his head cocking. “Did you call me a spoiled executioner?” Another pause and he nodded. “Yes. You did. Maybe I have become a little lax on how I take care of business. Perhaps I should handle this one personally.” He grinned. “That would be amusing.”
