“Yes,” I glanced over at her, “you know, that thing you do with your feet and your body.”
A timid smile played on her mouth and my nostrils flared in pride at the sight. I’d wiped away her sadness momentarily and had made this fragile, delicate creature smile. I wanted to reach out and take it for my own. To feel her lips curl up into a smile beneath my fingertips. I wanted to steal that smile for my own, so I did.
Turning back to her, I reached out, pressing the pad of my thumb against her mouth, and feeling the soft, pink flesh of her lips compress against my touch. Her breath was hot against my hand and a rumble came unwound from my chest. I lowered my hand from her face.
“Yes,” she said, trying to back away from my touch, “I know what dancing is. But no, I haven’t.”
I gazed into her face, wondering what the hell was coming over me. “You should get that husband of yours to take you sometime.”
“That’s never going to happen.” She shook her head, looking flustered. She ran her hand through her hair, pulling it to one side.
I watched every movement she made. Every blink, every breath she took, every purse of her lips. Jesus, was she a witch? I couldn’t look away.
In that moment, the whole world was Marisha.
The sky. The stars. The earth. The air.
“Maybe I could convince him to let me take you?” I offered.
What was I even saying? Ivan would never let that happen. I was surprised he’d let this beguiling woman out of his sight for more than five minutes. I knew if she were mine, she would be by my side every second of every day.
“Oh, please don’t,” she begged, the panic returning to her face, “I really should be getting back. He’ll be looking for me.”
I shook my head. “He’s having an informal business meeting like every other man in there, like I should be. He’ll be busy for a while yet.” I leaned closer, until my lips were next to her ear. “Which means I get you all to myself for a little longer.”
I wasn’t sure if I imagined it, but I was certain she seemed pleased by that.
Chapter Six
Marisha
I stared at the man holding me hostage. I knew what Ivan would do if he caught us here, alone in this shadowed corner of the rooftop, with only the sparkling trellis lights as our witness.
He’d throw us to the wolves. To Eduard and his ilk, to finish what they started with my parents.
The man in front of me wanted me though—no matter how much he tried to hide it and act nonchalant—and god it felt good to be wanted in a way that wasn’t ownership, even if it was based purely on momentary lust and not lasting love.
And, heaven help me, he wasgorgeous. The very definition of tall, dark, and handsome. The first time I’d seen him in the lounge, I’d nearly gotten wet just from the sight of him. And now here he was, close enough to touch, and my stomach was warm with desire that flooded down between my legs. He was as dangerous as Ivan in his own way, though. His mere existence threatened my life, and yet I couldn't walk away.
“You say my husband is like family, then you know how dangerous he is. Please stop this.” I backed away until my body pressed into the wall of ivy. Sparks of fear danced with flames of desire; it was intoxicating. “If he thinks anything happened between us, he’ll punish us both. He’ll hurt us both. Likely, he’llkillus both. He really will. Please believe me.”
The man smirked, his thick, sumptuous mouth begging to be kissed, though I banished the desire immediately. To look was a sin, but to act upon it was a death sentence.
“Ivan wouldn’t dare touch me,” he said with confidence that would give even my husband pause.
“Ivan’s not scared of anyone.” I shook my head, pulse pounding as the man took a step towards me. “Not even Eduard. So why would he be scared of you?”
Maybe I should have connected the dots.
Maybe I should have smelled the years of blood and sweat upon this man’s body.
The strong hands built for the Bratva life, and the dark gleam in his eye that said he’d done many a bad deed.
Yet, in this moment, all I saw were his dark eyes full of promise. And his body, chiseled from the hardest stone and waiting to be touched by my soft fingers, called to me. He was a succubus, intoxicating and tempting, and he’d get me killed.
The Bratva King’s son. The prince. The heir apparent.
Maybe he would be an easier death than jumping off the building.
