“May I provide you with refreshments, Mrs. Zolotov?” The butler stood in the doorway, his hands gripping the double doors in preparation to close them again.
“No, I’m fine.” I brushed a rogue curl from my face that had fallen from the updo.
When I was alone, I felt infinitely better. Relieved. I wouldn’t die tonight.
I moved to one of the tufted chairs and sat down. The flames from the fire were warm and comforting. I suddenly felt tired, the rush of feelings that had moved through me when I entered the Bratva royal estate sloughing off of me and leaving me feeling hollow.
Closing my eyes, I concentrated on the bursts of orange-red light behind my eyelids as I faced the burning logs.
I wondered if Alexander was somewhere on the property. And if he was, what he was doing. Thinking of him brought the memory of the kiss fresh to my mind. My lips tingled and my body hummed with need as I reminisced.
Chapter Nine
Alexander
I watched her from the doorway, her eyes closed as she sat in front of the hearth, the glow from the flames dancing against her pale skin. Her expression was more relaxed than I’d seen her before. She looked calm, serene, at peace momentarily. The skirt of her pale dress had parted, revealing creamy freckled legs.
I’d dismissed the butler so I could speak to her alone, away from prying eyes and ears, under the pretense with my father that to separate the two would be a wise decision.
Separated we could pry them both open and discover their secrets, seeking out any small infraction. Marisha was a weak little mouse and I could break her, Ivan would take a little longer. Divide and conquer, so to speak. Though my father had no idea of the type of conquering I had in mind. He could not imagine that I would cross this line, especially with this woman whom he loathed for her parents’ betrayal.
I strode across the room, the sound of my shoes on the varnished floors drawing her attention. Her eyes flashed open and she stood in alarm, straightening her skirt, her gaze skittish like a frightened animal.
Oh, Marisha, you make this too easy for me.
“Good evening, Mr. Vasiliev,” she said, stammering over the words.
I drew close, giving her a short nod of my head. “You’re looking exceptional tonight, Marisha,” I cooed, and I could have sworn her chest heaved under the compliment.
“Thank you,” she said, her gaze skirting towards the room’s entrance. I could see the fear in her eyes. Somewhere in this expansive home, her husband was meeting with the Bratva king.
Nervous, always so nervous whenever he was near.
I held out my hand. “Come, walk with me.” I’d take her further from my father’s office. Though, there really was no chance of being heard here. We were far enough away and the walls were solid, nearly soundproof. They had to be, so the sound of gunfire wouldn’t carry.
“I’m sorry, but Ivan has insisted that I wait here for him until dinner.”
“Marisha,” I warned, “I’m Alexander Vasiliev, if Ivan doesn’t trust his wife with me then there’s an issue.” I let my smile fall, a frown puckering my eyebrows as my expression turned stern. “Besides,” I leaned forward, “I know my father. You will be forgotten here. Forgotten by them, but not by me. I doubt we’ll even be asked to join them at dinner if things go well.”
She bit her lower lip gently and pushed a loose curl away from her face, still uncertain. “Perhaps we can sit and wait here,” she offered helpfully.
I tutted impatiently, my hands going to my pockets. “Fine then, I can see that you’re not comfortable around me.” I gestured for her to sit and she did with a shy smile, her cheeks flushing red.
As she sat back in her chair, the split in her dress gave a flash of thigh and a rumble echoed from my chest. A smile climbed my face at the sight, the desire to drop to my knees and spread her legs apart so I could bury my tongue between her folds almost too hard to resist.
“That’s a pretty dress,” I complimented, my hungry gaze on her. She squirmed in her seat, trying to close the gap. “Drink?” I offered but she shook her head. Nervous little mouse.
I headed to the drinks cabinet and poured two neat vodkas with plenty of ice before coming back and offering her one.
“It would be rude to refuse,” I reminded her, “since you’re watching your etiquette so charmingly.” I brought my glass to my lips to take a drink.
Her tongue darted out to dampen her plump lips as she reached for the glass. “You’ll have my husband spanking me later for my insubordination,” she replied, taking a sip of her drink.
I choked on the vodka, the alcohol burning all the way down as I coughed in surprise, and when I looked at her she was smirking.
Fucking smirking!
“Marisha,” I said, my tone a depraved warning, “with a mouth like that I’ll have you acrossmylap.” I took a seat opposite her and leaned back, waiting for the usual blush across her cheeks to flourish.
