“You staying?”
My arms tightened around her. “I have one thing to take care of, but I promise to be back before you wake up.”
She sighed. Pouted a little.
“I promise,” I repeated.
She buried her face against my chest. “Okay.”
I held my wife tightly and waited until her breathing evened out. Then, I rose. I had a situation to take care of.
Ekaterina Volkov was not as untouchable as she had been raised to believe.
When I walked into her dining room, she sat in one of those high-backed chairs rich people liked to buy. Her wrists were zip-tied behind it. Her ankles were bound to the legs. Her blonde hair fell in pretty, messy waves around her face, and the silk robe she wore had slipped off one shoulder.
I hated that she was beautiful, not that her beauty mattered to me. It didn’t. I was used to beauty; how could I not be with the wife I had? Theory was beautiful to me whether she was in diamonds, in my shirt, mad as hell, all mouthy in a kitchen, or half-asleep in the tub. So, I didn’t care about Ekaterina’s beauty. It was thatEkaterinacared about Ekaterina’s beauty. But we’d see about that.
Her eyes widened when she saw me. “Targen.”
Mikhail closed the door behind me. Grigor, Timur, and a special guest stood near the hall silently. I didn’t look at them. I didn’t have to. They knew their role and their place.
“You had a busy night,” I said, the open floor plan allowing me to be heard even as I crossed to the kitchen and peeked in her refrigerator. I smiled at the bottle of apple juice as I extracted it. Ekaterina hated to drink her calories, but apple juice was one of her guilty pleasures.
Her chin lifted, but it shook a little. “If this is about your wife?—”
“Be careful when you speak on her.”
The words were quiet but held a warning. She stopped. I walked back into the room, slow enough to let her think about all the bad decisions she made last night. She looked toward the shadows behind me, then back to my face. Fear bloomed in her eyes. Smart woman.
“I only congratulated her.”
“Funny thing is, that’s not how she remember it. You approached her. You insulted her. You implied she was just some obligation I accepted when I really wanted you.”
Her mouth opened. I raised a hand. She closed it.
“You wanted her to feel little, make her doubt her place beside me.”
“I didn’t?—”
“Don’t lie to me.”
Ekaterina swallowed again. “I was angry.”
“I know.”
“She came out of nowhere, Targen.”
“No,” I corrected. “I brought her.”
Her eyes heated. “You were supposed to?—”
“I was supposed to what?”
She looked away. I stepped closer, then lowered myself into the chair across from her. Opening the juice bottle, I took a big swallow. “Finish it.”
Her answer was silence.
I leaned back and studied her face. “I’ve known you for what? About a decade now. We ran in some of the same Russian circles. We went to a few dinners. We fucked. It was never more than that, but you wanted to make my wife think it was.”
