Images of Alexander kept swimming through my head, and though he’d taken every ounce of pleasure I could muster, I still found myself touching, tasting myself, and remembering.
Chapter Eleven
Alexander
She was right.
I was playing with fire and if I wasn’t careful, I would get burned, but I couldn’t stop myself. Watching from the shadows as Marisha left the bathroom on still unsteady legs, her red hair wild on top of her head as she made her way towards a furious looking Ivan had pissed me off. He didn’t deserve such a woman and I despised him more in that moment than I ever had anyone before.
He had what I wanted, and he wasn’t even appreciative of her.
But I’d already planted the seed of seeing Marisha again. That would have to be enough for now. I frowned, realizing that convincing my father and mother was going to be harder than making empty promises of a future engagement.
Dragging a hand down my face I turned and left the foyer, heading to my father’s study to go over the meeting he’d just had. It must have gone badly, for Father to cancel dinner and send Ivan away. I wanted to know every last detail of what was said and what my father planned next. Because one way or another, I was having that woman again.
Good thing I was goddamn persuasive when I put my mind, and charm, to it. A dinner raincheck was happening. Period.
*
The wait had grated on my nerves. I’d never had to hit pause on a conquest. If I wanted a woman a second time, I made it happen in my own timing.
But this situation made my normal behavior impossible. Bratva prince or not.
The restaurant was busy and bustling with life, though we were led towards our usual private VIP area. As always, the atmosphere was electric in The Willow Tree. It was a favorite place of my mothers and my father had coerced her into allowing Ivan and Marisha to come and eat with us since we were all trying to play happy families for now. Of course, I’d been the one to originally convince Father. He’d been set on cutting Ivan out of the picture, business losses be damned. It had taken making him see the entire financial picture for him to agree to a rescheduled dinner. He’d been a phone call away from pulling our loyal men from Ivan’s various operations. The week’s fallout with the Semenov family hadn’t helped. Father held Ivan responsible for the arrest, though everyone knew Stefan couldn’t think his way out of a paper sack. The minute Ivan had pushed back, blaming his failure on the Semenov’s was the minute the meeting had crashed and burned.
It had taken every ounce of my wit to make Father reconsider and have this joint outing to the restaurant.
Of course, I hadn’t told him that I’d already promised said dinner. My father, as did all men, did best when he thought everything was his own idea.
Attempted water under the bridge or not, my mother did not like Ivan and I had a feeling that I might have thoroughly pissed her off by suggesting we let the slight towards our family from Ivan marrying Marisha be dismissed. Mother had to really dislike a person to not consider a second chance. But, honestly, Mother had never been overly found of Ivan. His many years of loyalty had done nothing to soften her feelings towards him. I’d overheard her once telling Father that he was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and she would not be swayed from her assessment no matter how much money Ivan brought the family.
Father, on the other hand, agreed with my suggestion of a second chance at dinner once I’d reminded him of how much money was to be lost in severing ties with the Zolotovs. He was even happy in fact, because the next day he and Ivan had already struck a deal on a new business venture that was set to make us all a lot of money and, as far as my father was concerned, he was forgiven. The marriage issue, and the Semenov issue, were brushed beneath the carpet.
Money made the fucking world go round. Anyone who said different, simply didn’t have money and were the kind of people who convinced themselves that true happiness came from other things.
The chandelier over our VIP table was heavy and ornate, with crystals hanging swollen from its branches like blossoms. The lighting reflected the mood as Marisha and Ivan made their way to our table and we all stood to greet them.
It took all of my willpower to keep my eyes on Ivan and off Marisha and her plunging neckline, though a length of sheer material covered her actual skin. She wore true red tonight, a color that suited her. On her, the sleek silk looked like a waterfall of blood and it made her pale skin glow. The curve of her freckled breasts seemed barely contained at the sides, threatening to peek out at any moment, and this dress had a slit like the cream one from the other night. Though this one was not as severe. The top of the slit skimmed mid-thigh and rose higher when she sat down.
Her thick hair was pushed back behind her ears, but curled strands teased around her cheeks. Teardrop earrings delicately brushed her shoulders. She was queenly, the kind of woman that should marry into Bratva royalty. Not be married to a bastard like Ivan.
“Alexander,” Ivan said, with a faint nod of his head as he shook my hand.
It was clear as he moved his attention back to my father that he still saw me as a little boy and not a man ready to take over this family. I wondered briefly, how he would feel knowing that I’d fucked his wife and made her come so hard she’d almost fallen over when she’d stood back up.
Would I still be deemed the little boy then?
My jaw twitched with annoyance. Mother made small talk with Marisha, and Father and Ivan talked quietly, and despite my father trying to keep me in on the conversation, Ivan kept his attention solely on my father. Prick.
Our entrees arrived and mother and Marisha lapsed into silence as they ate, though Ivan continued to talk through the entire thing like he’d lost his manners in his year away from our family. The man had no fucking class, and as the evening wore on, I became more and more agitated with him, though you would never think so from my exterior.
My eyes kept straying to Marisha. I loved watching women eat. Loved the way their lips wrapped around silverware, how they chewed, how they… swallowed.
Mother's cell phone rang inside her purse and my father threw her a scowl. “Apologies, it’s probably Katya. She’s at a yacht party tonight and I told her to phone me when they left the port.” My father nodded in acceptance and she answered the phone, turning to one side so as not to interrupt the table too much. If it had been anyone else calling, mother wouldn’t have risked Father’s displeasure. But Katya was their princess.
Marisha placed her napkin down in front of her, her meal of rabbit in red wine sauce half finished, and she pushed back from the table.
“Excuse me,” she murmured politely. Mother nodded and smiled, her attention on the phone call as Marisha left the table.
