Fuck.
She looks stunning in clothes. But even more stunning without them.
Full, heavy breasts with dark pink tightened nipples. A narrow waist that flares into lush, rounded hips and a perfect ass I want to grip with both hands.
Toned legs and smooth skin still glistening with water. Her golden hair is wet and plastered to her back. Every inch of her is soft curves.
My cock instantly hardens, straining painfully against my gym shorts. I want to drop to my knees and taste the water running down her stomach. I want to bend her over the counter and bury myself inside her until she screams my name.
She freezes when she sees me, eyes wide.
I grab a towel from the rack and hold it out to her without a word.
She snatches it from my hand, wrapping it around herself quickly, but not before I get another long look.
“What the hell are you doing in here?” she demands, cheeks flushed. “Couldn't you wait until I got out?”
I shrug. “You’re going to be my wife in a few days. There’s nothing here I won’t see soon enough.”
Her eyes flash with anger and something hotter. “In your dreams.”
I step closer, inhaling the clean, warm scent of her skin and soap. “Husband and wife sleep together, Calina. They fuck. They share a bed. You should get used to the idea.”
“Not in this arrangement,” she fires back, lifting her chin. “You’re marrying me for my family name. That’s it. You get nothing more from me.”
I stop right in front of her, so close I can see the rapid flutter of her pulse in her throat.
I reach out and brush my knuckles slowly down the side of her neck, over her collarbone, tracing the edge of the towel where it meets her skin. Her breath hitches. Her body trembles under my touch.
“Keep telling yourself that,” I murmur, voice low and rough. “We’ll find out soon enough.”
I force myself to turn and walk away before I lose control and take her right there against the bathroom counter. My cock is throbbing, aching to be inside her.
It takes every ounce of willpower I possess not to head back. I head to my room for the coldest shower of my fucking life.
Even under the icy water, I can’t stop seeing her naked, wet, and flushed in front of me. I grip my cock, imagining her lips wrapped around it.
I leave the house and head straight to Pantheon headquarters half an hour later. The building is an imposing structure in the heart of Manhattan.
An old neoclassical mansion hidden behind high walls and heavy security. From the outside it looks like any other elite private club for billionaires and old money.
Inside, it’s something far more dangerous: the true seat of power for the elite in our world. A place where Pakhans, cartel leaders, and shadow rulers make decisions that move empires.
I’ve been trying to get through these doors for years.
Today, they finally open.
Ivan Anatolievich, the president, greets me in the private mahogany-paneled meeting room. Adrian Volkov, the vice president, sits beside him with a sour expression.
“Maxim,” Ivan says, smiling. “Congratulations on your engagement. Like I told you before, with the Morozov alliance secured, the board has reconsidered your application. You are now eligible to join the Society.”
Adrian immediately leans forward. “I object. He is unstable. Too controversial. Not fully legitimate. He wasn’t born into the Orlov bloodline. We cannot simply bend the rules because he found a powerful wife.”
Ivan raises a hand, silencing him. “We've already discussed this, Ivan.. Maxim is now connected to the Morozovs. That changes everything. His application is approved.”
Adrian hides his anger poorly, his fingers tightening around his pen until his knuckles turn white.
We sign the documents. Ivan slides the official membership across the table to me.
