Long red hair trailed down her slender back in soft curls. Her dress was green and figure hugging, showing off her magnificent curves. But it was her mouth that did me in. No her lips, her lips that were full and painted in a rich plum color making them look plump and ripe and I hardened at the thought of them wrapped around my dick. The fantasy came unbidden and I cleared my throat and took another long sip of my drink, barely tasting the alcohol as it slipped down my throat.
“You okay there?” Nikolai said.
“Yes,” I replied and forced myself to look away from her before I came in my pants.
Nikolai looked at me, his head cocked to one side. “I know that look, Alexander. It spells trouble.”
“Nonsense,” I scoffed indignantly.
“She’s off limits, my friend. I had the same thought the first time I clapped eyes on her, but pick a different woman, brother,” he joked, but there was an element of truth in his words. “Any woman at all can be yours. But not her.”
Yes, I needed to pick a different woman, because Ivan’s wife was out of bounds and not even my connections would change that.
“I know that. I can still admire her, can’t I?”
“Admire, yes, but don’t touch or those greedy fingers of yours will get burned.” And he wasn’t talking theoretically. Ivan had a temper on him, and he’d been known to burn a man’s fingers to the bone for even thinking of stealing from him. I wondered what he would do if another man dared to touch his beautiful wife.
I respected his business prowess as much as his brutality. But that didn’t stop me from continuing to picture her plum lips in my mind.
“I spy beautiful women,” Nikolai said, thankfully changing the subject. He gestured to two blondes on the far side of the room.
Yes, they were beautiful. Curvy, attractive, with legs for miles, and staring at us with lustful gazes. Yet I found my gaze still slipping to Ivan’s wife for one more look as we made our way over to them.
It was only a look and looking couldn’t do any harm.
Chapter Four
Marisha
Ivan led me into the room. I was still unused to the way heads turned wherever he went; power and influence dripped from his pores. Lucky for me, it was Ivan’s position within the Bratva community that had saved me.
Before my family had fallen upon hard times, we were rich and powerful too. My family were part of this life, however they had tried to shield me from it as much as possible by sending me away to school and keeping me out of the limelight. None of that had mattered in the end though. I had ended up exactly where they had hoped I wouldn’t.
Ivan cut a line through the room of dangerously beautiful people and a thrill of terror through shot through me.
As we approached the head table to greet Eduard and Evelina Vasiliev, my chest tightened. Knowing that they would have buried me alongside my parents made me feel sick to my stomach, fear and anger running through my veins. Seeing them made me fear the worst had only been delayed. Though I was innocent, away at school with little knowledge of the family workings, I was still considered bad blood by the Bratva and, by all accounts except Ivan’s, I should bear the sins of my mother and father. Root out the seeds of betrayal, even if it was an unborn child.
I glanced over at Ivan. His eyes were trained forward, steady and controlled.
He’d kept me from a shallow grave.
He’d saved me.
I should be grateful.
But, in the end I recognized that I was likely trading a fast death for a slow one.
Ivan sought to control my every movement, from the clothes I wore to the things I was allowed to do. I had to speak to the correct type of people and go to the right type of places. We lived a comfortable life together; me teetering on the edge waiting for him to snap, and him forever reminding me that I was in his debt. I mentally sighed in frustration, trying to keep a demure smile plastered upon my face.
It was a loveless existence, and my moments of small defiance were always laced with fear.
Because the truth was, I was tied to Ivan indefinitely. If not… if Ivan abandoned me, who would protect me?
I didn’t want to be that woman. The one that required a man to keep her safe, but the Russian mafia world was one where I did not belong—not on my own, not as a free and valued individual with such a black mark upon my name—and as such, I needed to tread carefully. In time, I could only hope that the stain on my reputation would fade. Though I knew it would never wash out completely.
We were nearly to the table when movement caught my attention. Two men, tall and beautifully suited—though neither wore the sort of bespoke suit Ivan favored. They were both attractive, one more so than the other. And that second man, who seemed to be surrounded by an aura of unbridled sexual heat, mesmerized me.
Dark brown hair shorn short on the sides, but longer at the top where two parallel braids snaked from his crown and down the back of his head. His beard was neat, oiled, hints of defiant curls fighting through the brushed straightness. Thick, manicured eyebrows were set over piercing brown eyes.
Brown eyes that flecked with gold when he looked at me, catching me staring at him. His mouth quirked, mustache rising a fraction as he acknowledged me. I felt flame enter my cheeks, rushing down in a wave of heat to warm my lower, wetter places. I clenched my thighs together, a thrill running through me.
I looked away quickly.
Ivan would kill me if he caught me so much as looking at another man. I had to be careful. I reached up and pulled my long coppery hair over my shoulder. The curls bounced, obscuring my peripheral vision so I wouldn’t be tempted to find his face again. But god, the temptation to push the strands back away so that I could see those eyes one more time…
My lungs stopped working for a moment, every iota of my concentration fixated on not focusing on that man. That man who just with the mere glimpse of him promised passion unlike anything I’d ever experienced.
My breath rushed out in a nearly inaudible gasp as Ivan pulled me towards him and we came to a stop. I hadn’t realized that I’d fallen behind. I’d never felt this way before.
Heart beating.
Palms sweaty.
No, I had. Once before.
When I received the news of my parents murder, and I found out my own head was next on the chopping block.
Though this was different. Exciting, not terrifying.
Ivan’s hand moved to the small of my back, positioning me just right at his side, framing his body with my own. When he pulled away, he paused to grip my forearm for a second, squeezing to gently remind me to stay quiet. Pretty as a picture, and pictures didn’t need to speak to be appreciated.
Ivan lowered his head in a show of respect, but lifted it again quickly. Ivan bowed to no man, and I knew that even this small show of inferiority burned his pride. “You honor us with your invitation, Eduard.”
Those sitting at the table grew silent. Eduard said nothing. He only had eyes for me. His face was blank; dark gaze like empty pools. Even the silver streak in his midnight hair seemed to blink at me with accusations.
My heart beat wildly, for a far different reason now. It was a racehorse begging to be let free. But I stood straight, shoulders back, trying not to shrink away from the table and embarrass Ivan. It was Evelina Vasiliev that broke the awkward silence and saved me from myself. A moment longer, and I felt I could not resist escaping, even if it dishonored Ivan and brought me pain later.