“Easy,” he chastises softly, eyes full of amusement.
My heart lurches again, because oh god, I really lo… like this man.
I do not love him. That’s silly.
I’ve only seen Kirill in jeans and a T-shirt, so I assumed that was what he wore all the time. But no. He looks utterlycomfortable in an outfit so well-tailored it can only be custom-made.
“I didn’t know you owned a suit.”
“I mostly wear a suit, when I’m not…”
“Indulging in your hobby?” I finish for him.
“Precisely,” he says with an approving smile that warms me. “There are expectations of the head of Blackfen, and a suit is one of them. I’ve grown to like it, to be honest. It’s a clear reminder of what I am, so I don’t have to remind people to do my bidding in more painful ways.”
“Your clothes are practical even when they’re formal,” I joke, and that’s so Kirill.
“Clothing is a weapon.” He takes my arm and leads me downstairs and outside to where there’s a limo waiting. “Women know this. Many men have yet to catch up.”
It’s more than that. He looks hot, of course he does. But the suit hides his physical strength in favour of showing his power and wealth. Both outfits provide cover for the fact his most dangerous weapon is his brain.
“Where are we going?” I ask when we’re settled into the car.
“A hotel in central London.” He adjusts his cuffs and the gesture is so sexy I almost melt. But while it’s self-assured, I wonder if perhaps he’s nervous. What about, I have no idea.
“That narrows it down to about a thousand locations and even more reasons.”
“We’re going to meet with some people, and I’m taking them a present.”
“Me?” Panic spikes into me. He’s giving me away.
“Not you, lapochka.” Laughing, he shakes his head. “You’reminetonight, and I want everyone to know it. My third favour from you today is that you play my devoted girlfriend this evening.”
I gape.
He drags his hand through his hair and gives me a roguish grin that’s a cover. I’m beginning to see the difference. There’s something brittle around his grey eyes. Steel rather than mercury. “Adoring will also do. Loving. Besotted.”
“I’m a bookish girl, not an award-winning actress.” But honestly, I can’t imagine it’s going to be difficult to pretend to be falling for Kirill. Seems to be second nature to me. “Who are we meeting, and do they have eyes?”
“A group of mafia bosses who work together. They’re sometimes known as the London Mafia Syndicate, but I’ve also intercepted some messages where they call themselves the London Maths Club. And yes, I think they have eyes.”
I didn’t think this was Kirill’s thing. “Why?”
“Pfft. Because I haven’t gouged them out yet?” he deadpans.
I can’t help but smile. “No, I mean, why are they called the London Maths Club?”
“Because it takes all of them to put two and two together.”
“Shall I tell them you said that?” I reply innocently.
He rolls his eyes. “Apparently the beginning of mafia sounds like the beginning of maths, and Canary Wharf thought the woman he was trying to win over would like it better if he was part of a maths club, than a mafia syndicate.”
I think of all my dark romance enthusiast friends online. “That feels like the wrong call.”
“Indeed, and the rest of them went along with it to ensure he got what he deserved.”
“An equally nerdy partner?” I suggest. I’m leaning into Kirill, and he’s dipped his head so we’re speaking quietly in the back of the car. It’s intimate, despite our banter. Or maybe because of it.
