Everyone was in a good mood. Pakhan had invited more of his old cronies tonight—men with too much money and too few morals. They were talking business, sipping from expensive glasses, waiting for the real entertainment to start.
Then Pakhan glanced at Kira, fork still in hand. “Speaking of business,” he said, smug. “I found you a fiancé.”
Kira didn’t even blink.
“This time,” Pakhan added, chewing, “try not to fuck it up. He’s the son of one of my partners. You’ll go on a date with him next week.”
Her lips parted slightly. Then she lowered her gaze. “Yes, father.”
I stilled.
No backtalk? No glare? No fire?
But then her hand moved to her lap, and I saw her unlock her phone. A second later, my own vibrated.
This time I’ll kill the bastard myself.
I smirked, kept my expression neutral as I typed back:
Good. I was getting bored doing everything for you.
Her reply was instant.
You’re not going to stop me?
I don’t stop good decisions.
You’re corrupting me.
You were never innocent.
I huffed a laugh into my glass. God, I love her.
By the time dessert was served—chocolate something, I didn’t care—half a dozen women, dressed in designer coats and not much else, floated into the dining room. Models. Escorts. Who the fuck knew.
Pakhan didn’t even look up from his plate as he muttered, “Ah. The real dessert has arrived.”
I stayed still. I’d been expecting this.
Tonight was one ofthosenights. One of his private orgy parties. Booze. Girls. Sex on silk sheets while his men pretended to be gods.
Which is why tonight was perfect. For what needed to be done.
A handler led the women into the lounge, where they’d be offered drinks, told to change into barely-there lingerie, and paraded around like a menu.
I saw Kira’s phone light up again. A moment later, another buzz.
You’re not going to that fucking zoo, are you?
Not a fucking chance.
Good. Because if you do, I’ll cut your dick off.
Miss Reaper, relax. My dick desires only you.
Smart dick.
Wait for me in bed. I’ll come show you how loyal it is.
