Dmitri’s voice changed when saying that name. He greeted the others with the mild civility of a man fulfilling a social obligation. With this one, he said it as if he anticipated this specific moment to say it out loud.
I looked at the man in front of us, and something in me immediately pulled tight. He looked awfully familiar. He was older, well-dressed, and composed. He was looking at me even as he responded to Dmitri.
We definitely met before. I didn’t know where or when, but his face wasn’t a stranger’s face.
I moved closer to Dmitri on instinct, and his hand at my back pressed me more firmly without being asked. He held me closer, and it made me feel safe.
They talked, but I wasn’t hearing a word. I was too busy turning the man’s face over in my mind, searching for where I filed it, which year, which version of my life it belonged to. Nothing came—just the feeling of knowing something about him.
“I can see the necklace interests you,” Dmitri said.
I pulled my attention back to them.
“Both,” Iker said, and let the word sit there. “Both the necklace and the lady.”
Whatever showed on my face or moved through my body in that moment, Dmitri felt it. I knew because it was the first time he introduced me as his wife.
“That’s where we draw the line, Iker. I don’t entertain men lusting after my wife.”
“No,” Iker straightened slightly. “I didn’t know you were married.”
“You know what I let you know.” Dmitri’s hand moved at my back as he stepped forward, a quiet signal that the conversation was closing. “I hope you find something worthy of your night.”
“Excuse me.” Iker stopped us, and Dmitri, to my surprise, actually paused. I spent enough time beside this man to know he didn’t halt for people. The fact that he stopped for Iker said a lot. “I’m sorry, what was your name?”
He was asking me.
Dmitri sighed. “Perez.” His voice dropped, but nothing about it was soft. “I believe I made the line clear.”
“Of course.” Iker raised his hands briefly. “I only wanted to compliment her. My daughter would love her, actually.” He chuckled. “She has the same taste in hair.”
The tension didn’t leave. It just rearranged itself.
This man knew me. I was certain of it now. I never forgot a face, only the context around it.
“Let’s keep the focus on what the evening is for,” Dmitri declared.
Iker moved his eyes from me to Dmitri. “Of course.”
We were already leaving before his response finished. I exhaled, glad that we didn’t stay longer with that old man.
“I don’t like him,” I told Dmitri while we moved.
“Why? You think I’d arrange for him to fuck you?”
I stared up at him. “That is all you can seriously say?”
“He was looking at you like he wanted to eat you where you stood.”
“Nothing about the way he looked at me suggested that.” I rolled my eyes. Was there a single conversation this man couldn’t route back to sex?
Dmitri stopped and turned to face me fully. “Tell me more. Sounds like you know how to read people.”
I exhaled. “He looked familiar. And you could tell he knew me from the way he kept asking about me.”
“Come on, wife.” His eyes dropped to my lips and came back up without apology. “You look edible. Have you seen yourself? Your shoulders are doing things to every man in this room. And when that slit moves, there isn’t a single dick in here that isn’t paying attention.”
I stared at him. It was clear that his weakness was sex. If I didn’t want something from him, I could have let my face say exactly what I thought about men who let their cock do allthe talking. He was handsome, annoyingly handsome, but that wasn’t enough on its own for me, and it would not start being enough tonight.
