“Is that a compliment?”
“You know it is.”
He escorted me out of the elevator with his hand still on my back. Sato was waiting in front with the SUV and two more vehicles with our bodyguards.
Inside the vehicle, our world dwindled to shadows and the light of the phone. I checked my messages. Aralina wanted to chat.
Poor girl. She was alone on a Friday night. She’d been glowing lately, and I suspected she was in love again, but she hadn’t been sharing.
There was also a text from Irina. She wondered if we could come over for dinner on Sunday, but I had a better idea. I texted,
Me
How about a party on Sunday? I’ll make sure Kirill is there.
Kirill hated parties, especially at his family’s home. But since he started peppering my calendar with events, I did the same to his. I expected him to balk at first since most of them were dinners with his parents, but surprisingly, he came to every single one of them. I glanced at my husband. He was leaning back against the seat. Eyes closed. He looked utterly drained. I never knew what time he came home, and he was always gone by the time I got up. He was cementing his role as pakhan for sure, judging by how he commanded the room earlier.
“Did you even care about the poker game?” I asked. My voice came out husky, probably irritated by the cigarette smoke. The wine had likely dehydrated me too.
His lids lifted in a hooded gaze, but his mouth curved in a lazy smile. “What do you think?”
“Your real goal is playing the room, finding out everyone’s weaknesses.”
A derisive chuckle left his lips. “You noticed?”
“It was subtle, but every man at the table adjusted strategy as soon as you so much as blinked.”
Kirill straightened in his seat and tilted his head in my direction. “You impress me, Lusenka.”
I couldn’t stand his burning stare. I couldn’t clearly see his eyes, but I could feel them eating me alive. I glanced out into the night. “I’m not simply a prop.”
“No, you’re not,” he muttered almost to himself.
When we arrived at the house, I walked inside barefoot with my heels dangling from one hand. I headed directly to the kitchen for a glass of water. Kirill followed but didn’t speak.
I watched him shed his black jacket and loosen his tie. Why did he look sexier when he was disheveled? My cheeks heated again as I remembered his sensual caresses on my thigh.
Also, I didn’t like the awkward silence between us.
“What’s your game, Kirill?”
He glanced up sharply from his phone. That damned phone. Was Anya texting him?
When he didn’t answer, I added, “Your performance tonight where you made it look like I mattered.”
“You’re my wife. Of course, you matter.”
“Please. Choosing me over Anya in front of everyone? What happened to humiliating me? It would’ve been a coup to choose her to take to the poker room.”
He walked toward me, deliberate, dangerous, stopping just close enough to make my breath misfire. “I don’t like Anya bullying you.”
“What?”
He traced my cheek with the back of a finger. “That’s my right alone.”
“Bullying me?” My eyes widened in outrage, stepping away from his touch.
“Yes. And challenging you.” He dropped his hand. “And you keep surpassing my expectations.”
