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I see the defeat in her eyes before she caves, her shoulders slumping forward. “Fine.”
“Good girl.” I grin. “Now wear what I lay out on the bed for you.”
As I leave the room, I hear her mutter, “Controlling stronzo,” and Maks’s answering guffaw. How the fuck did those two get so chummy in the span of one single day? If he weren’t my childhood best friend, I’d fucking end him.
Just like that, I’m irritated and jealous all over again.
CHAPTER 10
Arianna
Dimitri practically ignores me as he conducts business with various men throughout the night. I sit beside him in the booth, his arm draping over the smooth leather behind my back is the only indication of my existence. His colleagues ogle me from time to time and I feel like a trophy, a possession, nothing more than an ornament for their amusement.
If it weren’t for the promise of having my phone returned to me, I’d tell Dimitri and his business associates to go fuck themselves. Instead, I keep my expression blank, my spine straight, and my chin lifted.
Every time I tug at this dress’s short hem the deep neckline pulls down. It’s a lose-lose situation. I feel like a cheap whore wearing this thing. And honestly, I’m surprised Dimitri would make me wear something like this, given his possessive nature. Maybe he wants to make some kind of statement, or perhaps he’s simply doing this because he knows it makes me uncomfortable.
I don’t really care for his reasons. He’s a scoundrel.
He concludes his business with a pair of men in ill-fitting suits and they leave our table. One of them tosses me a lecherous glance and Dimitri’s jaw muscles pop. Good, he’s hating this as much as I am.
Dimitri removes his arm from behind me, and his massive palm landing on my bare thigh gives me a start. For the first time tonight, his gaze meets mine.
“You’re being such a good girl, kisa. But I want you to smile, instead of looking like being at my side is torture.”
I plaster a fake smile on my face, while shooting him a glare.
He chuckles, his fingers giving my thigh a soft squeeze. I absolutely hate how his touch makes my body warm. I do my best to ignore the unwelcome sensation. But he’s a difficult man to ignore, especially when I’m sitting right next to his massive body, his spicy cologne invading my nose. Everything about him draws me in, makes me want things that I’ve never craved before, and I hate it.
While he’s been chatting with his men, I’ve been daydreaming about ways to escape him. I don’t normally consider myself a violent person, but every time I glance at the champagne bottle on the table, I imagine grabbing the neck, breaking the glass against the table’s edge, and stabbing Dimitri in the throat. Then I’d gleefully watch as he choked on his own blood.
I wistfully sigh at my wishful thinking. If only I could turn my dreams into reality.
Dimitri eyes me. “That smile is much more genuine now, what’s on your mind?”
“Murder.”
“Of anyone I know?”
I nod and hum an affirmation.
He chuckles again, the sound deep and pleasant, and it goes straight through me. It’s probably the only pleasant thing about him—not that I care. “Does my sweet wife really want to murder her husband?”
“Mariticide,” I murmur, more to myself than to him. “I’m only your wife because of a forged document.”
Irritatingly, he shrugs as if forcing me into this marriage is no big deal. “I had to do what needed to be done.”
“Only because you know that I’d never willingly marry you.” I give him my biggest fake smile. “You disgust me.”
His green eyes flash with that hint of hurt that leaves me confounded. This man can’t possibly be emotionally invested in this situation. In me. He doesn’t know me well enough. Or maybe due to his months stalking me he thinks he knows me, even if he really doesn’t. There’s absolutely no history between us. I shouldn’t be able to get under his skin, and yet…
“Mr. Kozlov, we have something to discuss,” a man interrupts us. He and two others take the seats across the table without waiting for an invitation. As soon as they sit, the man openly leers at me.
My forced grin drops. I can’t stand another second of sitting here like an idiot and taking their shit.
“Excuse me,” I tell Dimitri.
His hand curls around my wrist. “Where are you going?”
