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Nicholas stood by with Alexei while Veronica washed out the wound with saline solution and stitched the long gash shut with neat sutures. She was good, but it didn’t mean Leon wouldn’t be one ugly motherfucker from now on. It wasn’t like Dimitri was one to spring for plastic surgery.
It took an hour for Veronica to stitch him back together. “He’ll need antibiotics,” she said, pulling off her gloves at the end after she’d wrapped Leon’s head in gauze. “And pain medication.”
Alexei nodded. “I can get those for him. Thank you.”
Veronica just glared at him. “How about you thank me by no more slashed up men showing up at my place of work.”
Alexei narrowed his eyes at her. “I’ll escort you home.”
She opened her mouth like she wanted to object, but then closed it again. “Fine,” she said tightly.
Alexei gave Nicholas a nod and the other two soldiers helped the still unconscious man off the table. Luckily he was smaller and they were able to carry his slouched form between them down the hall to the elevator. It was good that they lived in the building and wouldn’t have far to go.
Nicholas stayed behind to make sure everything was cleaned up and the bakery would be ready for business as usual in the morning. The smell of bleach clung to him as he dragged his tired ass to the elevator, wanting nothing more than to sink balls deep into his wife and call it a night.
Usually when he unlocked the door at night, he found his beautiful Sloane humming along to herself while she cooked or watching one of her ridiculous reality shows with Ramona curled up in her lap.
But tonight, tonight it was silent, and no lights were on. Nicholas’s heart immediately started beating louder.
“Sloane?” he called. “Sloane? Where are you?”
He quickly closed the door behind him so the damn cat didn’t get out and flipped on the light. Only to see a human-sized lump underneath the bedcovers. He strode forward and yanked back the covers. It was Sloane, curled in a ball, heaving for breath with her eyes squeezed shut.
“Jesus, Sloane, you scared the shit outta me.”
She finally looked up at him, managed a quick gasp of breath, and then squeaked out, “help me.”
Shit. It was clear she was having one of her episodes. Nicholas nodded. He’d ordered some supplies to help the next time this happened, he just hadn’t expected to need them so soon. But of course what happened downstairs would trigger her anxiety disorder. The danger of his world had bled over into hers, and it was his duty to help her now.
So he stood taller and deepened his voice as he demanded, “Strip. Now. And then get on the floor, head bowed.”
He could all but see the wave of relief hit her as she scurried to obey his commands. She flung her shirt off over her head, exposing her gorgeous tits in a skimpy black lace bra. The sight had Nicholas’s adrenaline pumping and the tiredness from the day evaporating.
Especially when she threw her legs over the side of the bed, then shimmied out of her jeans and panties at the same time. Goddamn, but her legs went on forever. And her pretty little pussy she flashed at him—well he couldn’t say that he wasn’t looking forward to what was about to come.
“Bra off,” he barked, and she contorted her arms around her back, unlatched the lacy thing, and soon it was on the floor beside her as her breasts sprang gloriously free. And then she was bowed at his feet, hair curtained over her face, smooth back leading down to the perfect trim little waist and flaring out to the ass that Nicholas couldn’t wait to get his hands on.
But wait he would, because this wasn’t just about gratifying an urge.
“Don’t move,” he ordered, his voice low and if it was a little hoarse, well, a man could only keep so much cool with a gorgeous woman bowed at his feet.
He dragged himself away from her and to the closet where he’d stashed the items he’d ordered, keeping one eye on her the whole time. When she shifted just the slightest, as if she was tempted to look up to see where he was, he snapped, “Move even an inch and I’ll enjoy punishing you, kitten.”
He didn’t miss the shudder that worked through her body. Good. He liked to see the way he affected her. It was one of the things he enjoyed so much about his wife. She couldn’t lie for shit—everything she felt was always right there on her face and in her body language. She was an open book and he never had to guess with her. In his world of complex loyalties and shady dealings, she was a breath of fresh air.
