Still, the walk to the table was like a gallow’s journey, and every footstep felt like it brought me closer to ruination.
“Marisha, you were gone for some time,” Evelina’s voice greeted me first.
“I’m so sorry, please accept my apologies. Female troubles.” I said the excuse quickly, thinking it would also save me from Ivan’s anger and his advances later.
“Say no more. Do you require anything?” She asked the question and she actually sounded kind.
I smiled, regretting lying to her. And then pangs of guilt for other reasons shot through me, pangs of guilt that made my swollen places twinge with the memories of what I’d done with her son. Not for the first time, her words of warning played on repeat through my brain. I’d be judged on my own actions.
“No, no thank you. I came prepared.” I sat down next to Ivan, ignoring his probing gaze. Thankfully, he didn’t have the time to also question me, not with Eduard still speaking in earnest about their new business venture.
Alexander took his time coming back to the table, his phone to his ear. He clicked it off as he sat back down, taking the seat across from me. Fresh heat flooded my face as I stared down at my half-finished plate.
“That was quite some phone call, Son,” Evelina smiled at him and patted his forearm.
“Nikolai. There’s been some issues with customs at the pier. We need to work them out before the next shipment.” Alexander spoke so casually, the lies falling so easily from his lips, that I wondered if I could ever believe anything that he said to me. Or if I cared. His body was what I wanted, what I craved. What I thought about when I touched myself at night, long after Ivan had his way with me and was snoring loudly. He looked directly at Ivan, holding my husband’s gaze in his. “The European market will be unsuccessful at this rate, Ivan. You need to get the situation under control, or I will control it for you.” The threat in Alexander’s words were not veiled, but obvious and cutting.
Ivan’s nostrils flared in fury, and I waited for him to explode and rage, but after a moment he nodded and picked his drink back up.
“I’ll handle it,” he agreed.
Moments later, the dessert round came. A chocolate mousse with almond whip and raspberry drizzle.
“Oh, my favorite. Thank you, dear.” Evelina leaned over to Eduard and kissed him gently on the cheek. He smiled, taking her hand.
“Come to your favorite restaurant and not have your favorite treat? What kind of husband would that make me?” He lifted her fingers to his mouth and kissed the back of her hand gently. I watched, enraptured by his attentiveness to her. A longing bloomed within me, wishing that I could have the same one day.
The blood-soaked Bratva King had a real soft spot for his wife. Who would have guessed? I’d heard many stories of the things he’d done as he rose to his position and none of them had been pleasant. None described the man that now stared longingly into his wife’s eyes right now. It made me wonder—could a person be so completely bathed in blood and sin, yet still hold on to some form of humanity? Was that even possible?
As I dipped my spoon into the dark chocolate, I startled. Something was brushing against my legs, tracing up my calves and pushing into the space between my thighs. Blinking, I looked up to Alexander across from me. He was focused on his own dessert, but I saw the way his mouth quirked in a boyish half smile.
I shifted in my chair, dress riding up as the slit in my skirt parted to expose my legs. I glanced down to my lap, seeing Alexander’s socked foot angling to brush his toes against me. He snaked beneath my dress, and it was a short journey to delicate skin from there. I dropped the soft cotton napkin onto my lap, hiding what he was doing, and I tossed a warning glance at him. He continued to smirk down at his dessert, and as his foot pressed against my folds, I couldn’t suppress a tiny gasp. I was still so sensitive and swollen.
“Are you all right, Mrs. Zolotov?” Alexander looked at me, his voice the picture of innocence.
Again, I glared at him. “I’m fine. This dessert is just so,” I stuttered against the needle pricks of pleasure that threatened to build and send me over the edge yet again, “so good.”
“Isn’t it though? Chef Marcus created it special for me on my fortieth birthday,” Evelina took a bite, fork tines clamped between her nude lips as she savored the mousse.
“Fortieth? I’d have guessed late thirties at the most,” Ivan simpered, trying to garner favor with the Bratva queen.
Evelina, for her part, nodded curtly. “I’m fifty-one now. How time does fly.”
“Aged like fine wine, my love.” Eduard smiled at his wife.
I wriggled against the chair as Alexander continued to tease against me, my expression darting to him and my eyes pleading with him to stop. His father and mother were here. My husband was here.
Heaven help us.
Heaven help me!
Finally, I reached down under the pretense of picking up my napkin to wipe my mouth. I gripped his ankle and pushed him away from me. I tried to be inconspicuous, not leaning down too much in my chair. To his credit, Alexander didn’t persist this time, and I was able to dab the napkin against my mouth without worrying he’d push his foot back beneath my dress.
I had to admit to myself though… I was a little disappointed that he gave up so easily.
Chapter Thirteen
Alexander
