“Is your head in the game? Are you still focused on the job?”
“One hundred percent,” he said, his low voice dripping with conviction.
“Good.” I set my empty glass on the table.
I fastened the button of my jacket and walked around my desk, my polished shoes scuffing against the floor.
“Just don’t get her pregnant,” I teased before walking past him.
Downstairs, Ellie sat on a couch with her alluring legs elegantly crossed. She wore a beautiful black gown that dipped low at the chest, revealing a teasing glimpse of her cleavage.
Her heels fit her feet perfectly, the diamonds on her wrists and neck glinting in the soft light. Her light brown hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders, and her eyes sparkled in a way that made my heart pause.
She stood up when she spotted me at the head of the steps, a faint frown settling on her face.
That’s when I realized just how insanely attractive she looked in that dress. It had a long slit on one side that left her thigh exposed. Not too much. But enough to make anyone look twice.
I felt something primal swirl within me, and my cock twitched in my pants. However, I kept a straight face as I climbed down the stairs.
“Ten minutes,” she said, her voice cutting through the silence of the living room. “Ten minutes. That’s how long you kept me waiting.”
“Sucks, doesn’t it?” I replied, calm as always. “That’s how I felt the last time you kept me waiting.”
Karma’s a bitch, especially when you know how to orchestrate it in your favor.
She rolled her eyes, arms crossed over her chest. “Where are we going anyway?”
I halted in front of her, drinking in the beauty standing before me.
“Another gala?”
In such close proximity, the intoxicating scent of her perfume filled my space, stirring up emotions I wasn’t ready to face.
“You’re coming with me to a Bratva meeting.”
She paused, brows arching slowly, as if processing what I’d just said. “What?”
Silence.
The shock in her gaze was priceless; it almost made me laugh. Almost.
Without another word, I walked past her, heading straight to the front door.
“Wait, are you serious?” She grabbed her purse and began struggling to catch up.
I ignored her and kept going.
Her heels clicked frantically against the floor. “Don’t you think I’m overdressed for a Bratva meeting?”
“I wasn’t drunk when I bought you that gown. Now, quit whining.” I pushed the door open and stepped outside, the cool evening breeze brushing my skin.
We got into the backseat of my favorite black SUV with Sergei at the wheel. He started the engine, and soon, the convoy rolled out of the estate.
***
The meeting was held in a private room on the top floor of a high-end restaurant. Seven black-suited men, including myself, sat around a table, the chandelier’s warm glow illuminating the space.
My wife was seated slightly behind my right shoulder. Not at the table but adjacent to it. She was enough that her presence registered without demanding acknowledgment.
