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Did something happen that I was not privy to? Something to make her go quiet? I frowned hard. If there was a problem, I wanted to know, needed to fix it. It was not a look I liked on my otherwise bubbly Sofia. It bothered me she did not come to me with her problem. If there was one. My brain was now fixated on this.
Sofia usually talked my head off with little bite-sized facts about this or that. She was full of questions. Like a walking, talking inquisition. She was relentless, prying information from me like pearls from oysters. I did not share world secrets, but I did not mind talking about things I did. I was not ashamed of who I was. And she should know exactly who was fucking her each night. Her brain was active, her imagination, too. And I loved learning about what made her tick. Fuck. I should not be using that word. This was temporary. Still, I could not help it. My obsession was growing, not getting better.
I took my new phone from my breast pocket and sent a text to Josef. He was the head of security, and though I ordered the cameras in the guest bedroom to be turned off for the duration of her stay, the rest of the house, save my bedroom, was completely wired. Something must have happened to my Zaika to make her this quiet shell of herself.
My phone buzzed as the driver pulled up to the Castle estate where instead of a private dinner party the man was hosting a goddamned party. I waited till we were standing in the receiving line indoors to look at what Josef sent me. Pictures of my brother’s smiling face and my Zaika laughing at something he said filled my screen, and I felt rage building inside my blood.
Fury. Jealousy. And some other choice emotions rolled through me as we moved up in line to where a woman in black stood to take our coats.
“Adrik?” Sofia said my name, and I looked up.
My fury must have been clear on my face if her reaction was anything to go by. She moved back a step, like the frightened bunny I once thought she was. Her velvet eyes darted left and right, but who could save her from me? It would have been laughable if I wasn’t shaking with my rage.
Had my brother seduced my Zaika while I worked myself into a lathering sweat just to stay away? I needed to know. But now was not the time or place. It had happened rarely where Marat had been interested in one of my castoffs. But he always asked permission first. Always made sure I was okay with it. This I was not okay with. This I might hurt him for. Or worse.
Killing my brother was off the table. But with a face like that, perhaps he could afford to lose a limb. A finger? A hand? It would depend on what he did. The thought of his hands on her soft, pale skin had me picturing the horrible things I would do to him, or to anyone who dared touch her while she was mine.
Hell. If I was going to keep this madness to myself, then I could admit in my own head that I was almost certain my obsession with Zaika would not be quenched soon. If ever.
Unhinged.
The word flashed in my brain like a neon sign. Or one of those digital billboards in Times Square. Yes. Perhaps I was unhinged.
If I was contemplating maiming my brother while accepting a glass of whiskey from a passing server, then yes, I would say unhinged was an apt description. Sofia took a glass of champagne, smiling tightly as she looked around the room. It was full of men and women who were part of the establishment. I recognized many of the faces but did not bother saying hello or making introductions when they were bold enough to approach us.
My fingers itched to touch her. To feel her body trembling beneath the moonlight silk she wore, but I did not trust myself to stop there. I burned for her. Wanted to impale her on my cock and remove the stain of my brother’s hands on her skin.
Perhaps if I touched another, if I held another woman, fucked someone else, maybe then I would not feel that insane jealousy. I could do that there. I could crook my finger and have any woman in the vicinity willing to drop her panties for me in front of the whole fucking crowd. Did Sofia not understand that?
Maybe, I thought as I walked towards the dance floor. Just maybe it was time to teach her who I was. Wolf not man. Bastard, not just billionaire.
I heard Sofia walking beside me, her heels clicking on the marble tiles, creating a seductive tattoo that pounded inside my brain. There was a live band playing, and people writhing on the floor. Society’s elite, I scoffed.
“Wait here,” I ordered, not bothering to look at Sofia while I grabbed the hand of a scantily clad woman.
Yes, some of the women were hired to be there. Professionals. Escorts. And this one, I recognized. Her flashy red nails looked gauche against my black jacket, and her perfume was cloying, burning my nostrils. But I pulled her into my body, holding her tight as I danced her across the floor. I needed to prove to Sofia I did not depend on her. She needed to be reminded of her place. Or maybe it was me who needed to be reminded.
I looked up, not surprised to see she’d left. I stepped away from the woman I’d been dancing with and hunted my Zaika across the floor. A flash of silver caught my eye, and I watched her scurry into the ladies’ room, a snarl on my lips as I followed.
“Adrik! Glad you could make it, old boy.”
Matthew Castle stopped my progress with his hand outstretched. I glared at it before I remembered where I was and what I was there for. Clearing my throat, I took his hand and gave it a hard shake that left the weaker man noticeably paler.
“Castle,” I replied, nodding at the woman beside him.
It was his sister. Missy Castle. Her eyes roamed over me like I was a piece of meat, and I wanted to snap at her to keep her eyes in her head, but I refrained. Upsetting my host was not a good idea, especially when it was his company I needed.
“I thought this was a dinner party,” I said.
“Yes, well, it was supposed to be, but my dear sister thought this might be better. After all, you Russians like a good party, no?”
“I am American, now, Matthew. Even when I was living in Russia, I was only half,” I said, giving away just enough to shock the man into silence.
I knew he’d been digging into my past, looking for a way to blackmail me into sweetening the deal. Truth was, regardless of how old and prominent their family name, Matthew Castle was grossly in debt. CoreTech was the last thing he had of value. I was not trying to swindle him, but I would not be blackmailed by anyone.
Foolish man did not know what I really was before the designer suits, limousines, and penthouses. The word mafia had been tossed around, but that word did not apply. I was not part of a gang or a crime family. Never had been What I had gained in life, position, money, power, was all of my own making. Any criminal activity I had been involved in was for me and Marat, my brother, who I really needed to talk to.
Mobsters owed fealty to someone, something higher than themselves. In my world, there was no one higher. I was no mobster. I was worse than that.
