I tilt my chin up so that our lips nearly brush. His eyes go dark with lust and his hand grips my chin, holding me firmly in place.
“Don’t tease me,” he growls.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” I snarl back.
His mouth crashes down on mine, his grip tightening so that I can’t move even if I want to. His kiss is forceful and demanding, but I push back, refusing to let him take control. Our lips part and our tongues chase each other. His hand slides down, curling briefly around my neck, then lower, cupping a breast through my dress. I let out a small, breathy moan against his lips as his fingers pinch my taut nipple.
“Come home with me,” he says, his lips following the path of his hand, brushing kisses over my jaw and neck.
I drag my hands up his solid chest, hating how much I want to rip the shirt off of him. “Ask nicely.”
“Please.”
Mustering up all the willpower I have left, I push him away. He stumbles back, caught off-guard, which makes me smile. The tent in his pants, though, makes me want to pull him back against me. Before I give in, though, I say, “I won’t be going home with you, or anywhere with you. Only when you give me what I want will I consider giving you what you want.”
Then, I wipe my mouth, hoping to get rid of any traces of smeared lipstick, straighten my dress, and turn, strutting my way through his lobby and out to my waiting car, all the while forcing myself not to look back.
Chapter Six
Losev
I’m not surprised when I get to work the next morning to find Dominic Royal sitting in my office like he owns the place. He may own a lot of people and places in Oakwood City, but Turgenev Holdings is not one of them. I put my coffee down on my desk and wait for him to get out of my chair. After a brief staring contest, he stands and moves to one of the high-back leather chairs across from my desk.
“Dom. What brings you here?” I ask, moving behind my desk and sitting, trying to appear unaffected. I’d been worried all night, and had even put a security detail on Evangeline’s apartment on River Street just to be safe. It shouldn’t be my problem. I’d warned her, but she hadn’t listened, and it should be up to her to pay the price, not me. But when it comes to her, I don’t want anyone laying hands on her but me. And after the way she left me last night, it will be sooner rather than later.
“I think you know,” he says, smiling.
“The Club will pay your losses.”
His smile tells me that I’m way off the mark, which I already suspected. “I’m not worried about the money. You know that.” He’s right. The two of us have very similar lifestyles with very different backgrounds. Money is never a worry; it’s always about power and respect. “Who is she?”
“She’s nobody,” I say, but I can’t help the twitch in my jaw. It’s why I’m so bad at poker.
He leans back in his chair and crosses one ankle over his knee. Then, he pulls out his phone and starts reading off of it. “Evangeline Rutherford, CEO and president of Rutherford Global Markets. Founded by her mother, Frances Rutherford. Currently resides in—”
“That’s enough,” I snap. “She’s nobody to you,” I amend.
“And to you?”
I clench my teeth but don’t answer.
He lowers his phone. “You know, grocery stores would make great business fronts. And the freezers…multi-use, I imagine.” His gaze shifts to his bodyguard who’s standing by the door. “How many bodies do you think would fit in there?”
Fixing all my attention on him, I say, “She’s mine.”
Dom smiles smugly. “There it is. Someone has finally caught the attention of the devil himself. She must be special.”
It’s time to speak his language. “Stay away from her. I’ve never had to threaten you, Dom, but for her, I will.”
The smile doesn’t fade from his face, even though I know he’s used to being the one doing the threatening. He’s on my turf, though, and threatening me by extension. “I can respect that,” he says. “But let me find out you’re lying…and she and her business are fair game.”
The door opens then, and my dad enters, drawing up short when he sees my guest. “Dominic, hello.”
“Mr. Turgenev.” Dom stands and shakes my dad’s hand. “Good to see you. I was just leaving.”
My dad nods, though his mouth twists in suspicion. “That’s probably for the best. Tell your father hello.” Just like Dom and me, Vincent Royal and Kostos Turgenev have less a friendship and more a tentative truce.
“I will,” Dom says with a nod as he and his bodyguard slip past my dad and out the door.
“What was that about?” my dad asks. “You aren’t doing business with them, are you?”
I shake my head. “It was personal.”
My dad shakes his head. “That sounds even worse.”
He could be right. Dom’s parting words ring in my head, but I realize I’m not lying. Evangeline and I seem to be made for each other in a way I never thought possible. I always assumed I would eventually settle down with a woman content to do my bidding—clean my house, raise my children, warm my bed. But the moment Evangeline strutted into my club and my life, I realized I would never be happy unless it’s with a woman like her. Passionate, ambitious, demanding.
I’ve claimed Evangeline. Now I just have to figure out how to make it true.
♦ ♦ ♦
South Square Park is a nine-acre park in southern Oakwood City with a one-mile walking trail that winds through green spaces and play areas, popular with the retired and young families alike. And it’s where my PI says Evangeline walks with her mother, Frances Rutherford.
“Three miles every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoon. Like clockwork.”
It wasn’t the only information he gave me, and that’s why I’m here now, waiting for her. To talk about everything else. I park in a large parking lot just off the walking trail near a large, wooden playground and sit on a stone bench to wait. At one point, a child approaches me, climbing up onto the bench beside me and sitting. He swings his legs and looks sideways at me.
“Hello,” I say.
“Hello. I’m Declan.”
“I’m Losev.”
“That’s a funny name.”
I scoff at him. “Declan isn’t any better.”
“It’s Irish,” he says.
“Well, I’m Russian.”
“What’s a Russian?”
Before I can answer, someone calls his name and he jumps down, scurrying off without a backward glance. I watch him go, my brow furrowed. I’ve never given kids a second thought. I always just assumed I would eventually have one to carry on the family name, but I never imagined them as actual tiny people. A sudden image pops into my head of a little girl with a big attitude, her mom’s light brown hair, and my sharp chin. Evangeline and I will make beautiful if stubborn babies, that’s to be sure.
“Losev? What are you doing here?”
My head snaps back to the left, where Evangeline is standing on the walking trail beside an older version of herself. Even if I hadn’t seen the picture from the PI, there’s no mistaking Frances Rutherford. She’s tall and lean like Evangeline. Her long, silver-white hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and she’s wearing a navy sweat suit. Her daughter, on the other hand, is in high-rise leggings and a sports bra, her hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun. She looks completely different from the put-together woman I’ve seen before—but still absolutely stunning.