Page 32 of Lord of Justice

The best item they selected was a dark green dress, glittering with beads, thin straps and a neckline that shows the beginning of her gorgeous breasts. I want her to wear it to our enforced wedding party.

When I arrive at the office to pick her up, my wife is huddled in the corner of the media room, clutching a dripping sandwich with her phone glued to her ear, no doubt talking to Rose. I have come to accept that this is a two, and sometimes three or four call a day habit. She looks beautiful, hair swept up into a severe ponytail and wearing a dark blue suit with a white silk blouse.

The vision of sucking on her nipples through that silk hits me. So vividly, as if my lips are already on her breast. What the hell is happening to me? I'm tired from the flight. It's been sixty-three days since I've had sex. That's all.

I get close enough to hear her say, "Nothing weird like dick size!"

"And whose dick size are we talking about, darling?" I ask, enjoying her appalled expression as she quickly disconnects the call and attempts to find somewhere to put her sandwich down. "You've got… something dripping down your arm," I point out politely. "That will stain the lovely suit you're wearing. It's hard to get grease out of good wool."

"Why is this my life?" she moans, trying to hold her arm up while swiping at the table next to her for napkins. This move brushes all of them on the floor, and she bends over to pick them up. I catch a glimpse of her cleavage and I can't take it.

"Here." I pull my handkerchief out and hand it to her.

She eyes it dubiously. "I'm not sure you'll ever get the stain out of this and it was probably originally owned by Prince Edvard the 47th in medieval Switzerland."

"I have several, go ahead," I say, enjoying the sight of the cloth moving over her smooth skin. "You have something, right here." I touch my cheek to show her and her tongue slips out, searching for the smear.

Fuck.

My (usually) disciplined cock is starting to thicken.

"Is it gone?" she asks, looking at me, all wide-eyed innocence.

"No, it's just – I'll get it." Pulling my handkerchief from her fingers, I lift her chin with one hand and wipe her cheek with the other, then smoothing the cloth over her lips, because I want to.

"You should see how freaked out people get here when they talk about you," she says, a little gleefully.

"Nonsense," I say, tucking the dirty handkerchief in my pocket. "I simply expect people to do their jobs."

"Are you kidding?" Iris cackles, there's no other word for it. "I saw one of the junior attorneys cross himself in the hall yesterday when someone said your name."

I wait for her to explain why this is a bad thing. She sees my expression and cackles a little more. "If you don't see this as problematic, then I'm not going to burst your bubble, pal."

"Oh, there you are! A pleasure to see you back, Andrey. How was the German meeting?" Jessica's striding toward us, and the little moment of intimacy is gone. Iris's cheeks are flushed a bright pink. I'm going to have to teach her about hiding her emotions, because it seems that was not on Jessica's to-do list.

"It was a long and boring trip." I shrug.

"True, but Berlin is beautiful this time of year," she says, hopefully.

"Not from the inside of a boardroom, but I appreciate the optimism. Are you finished with my bride for tonight?"

Jessica's sharp eyes move from a blushing Iris to me. "Of course. It's been a long three days for both of you. I'm sure you want some alone time."

Iris doesn't look completely on board with this plan of "alone time," but she rises, unbuttoning her suit jacket. "Let me go take this off."

Jessica hands her a bag. "No, just wear it home. You've already changed so many times today. Here are your shorts and t-shirt. There are a few things that we need to alter from your wardrobe fitting yesterday, but most of it should be hung up by now. Good night."

"Hung up?" Iris calls after her, but Jessica's already in deep conversation with one of the cameramen.

Taking her bag, I hold out my arm and she eyes it suspiciously. "What's happening here? This is dangerously close to you being pleasant to me."

"You've been enduring seventy-two hours of attempting to civilize you, darling," I say. "Slipping your hand into a gentleman's offered elbow is gracious behavior."

"Even if he's the indomitable and selfish Russian who forced the young lady to marry him?" Iris asks, fluttering her lashes madly, like butterflies ready to take off.

I lean closer, my lips touching her ear. To everyoneelse, it looks like a husband flirting with his new wife. "Oh yes, darling. Particularly when all those things are in play."

Chapter Sixteen