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She approached Dimitris and leaned in a fraction so he could select his poison.
She held back a huff of irony. Poison. If only the world could be so lucky.
Cool your jets, chica. She had no proof of anything yet except her friend was in trouble. Everything else was a theory.
“A drink?” She buried all emotion in the same box she stored all her unshed tears and held Dimitris’ gaze when he saw fit to retract it from her cleavage. For once she wished she’d picked a turtleneck instead of a sleeveless blouse with a sensual dip in the front.
“Da.” He chose his vodka as she had suspected, but before she could step out of range, he trailed a finger the length of her bare forearm. The slight touch brought about a force of nausea fierce enough to tear her stomach in two. Sheer will held it together and peeled her lips into a semblance of a broader smile. Like all men, or most in her experience, arrogance masked his perception and he failed to see the truth behind her kindness.
And what she counted on.
“Excuse my fiancée,” Sevastyan’s voice broke through her dark thoughts.
Fiancée?For the love of God…
She peered over the tray at Sevastyan and jacked her brows up, hoping he could read her exact thoughts, but his next words had her forgetting the mention of being his fiancée, no matter how edged and deep it had buried itself in her mind.
“What is said here is safe. I give my word,” he continued as if she didn’t shoot daggers into his eyeballs.
“No doubt. Your brother thought a beautiful woman like this one is made for pleasure and should carry his mark. Makes them more loyal. Don’t you agree?”
Brother? Marks? What the hell?
It seemed she wasn’t the only one with secrets. Lucky for her she had already turned away from Dimitris and only Sevastyan could see the surprise stamped on her face like a lit neon sign. He held an arm out for her to join him at his side of the desk as she approached with the tray. He took the poured vodka and raised his glass. She took hers and followed his lead.
“Zazdarovje!” Sevastyan offered.
Dimitris’ gaze locked on hers and with a smooth rise of his hand, coolly mirrored Sevastyan’s sentiment. “Zazdarovje.” He tossed back the double shot of clear liquid without a wince.
Sevastyan followed suit, and she welcomed the sweet, delicious burn that offered enough fortitude needed to survive the next five minutes in this room.
Sevastyan placed his empty glass on the edge of his desk and pulled her onto his lap, nailing the other man with a cold stare as if to say hands-off.
She looped an arm around his neck, her heart pounding out a steady holy-shit rhythm she knew Sevastyan could feel as he wrapped his fingers around her wrist to steady her.
“Let me make one thing clear,” Sevastyan stated coolly. “What I do or do not do with my fiancée does not concern you. As for my deceased brother, that is why you are here. I only learned of your partnership a few nights ago. I apologize for that oversight. But let’s be very clear—with his death all partnerships are dissolved. I don’t share my business outside my circle very well. I think you can agree that is something that should be earned.”
Dimitris’ face puckered into a grimace.
Rhia found herself swallowing the ball of nerves forming in her throat. This man was trouble with a vibe about him so black the devil would stay away.
“Da,” he finally said, the grim look on his face fading to something between acceptance and downright crazed. “With death comes new beginnings, no? New opportunities.”
“Unless you have something else in mind?” Sevastyan offered, his fingers tightening around the flesh of her waist. Something told her the man sitting across from them was more foe than friend to more than just her.
Dimitris pressed his elbows into the arms of the chair opposite Sevastyan and tapped his fingers, lost in his thoughts for a moment it seemed. “Haven was never far from my mind in my time away. Beautiful place, da? Your brother had vision.” He paused and tapped a finger to his temple. “I wonder, Volkov. Tell me, do you share that vision?” He raised his chin and looked pointedly at her as he asked, his voice deceptively low, curious. Like a coiled snake ready to strike.
“I’m open to discussing it further. My brother’s darker cravings tainted his last year alive, and I fear I do not know his full vision. I was hoping you could fill me in and we could move forward from there. Build something new, as you put it.”
“Da, pleasure first. This I like. Let’s do this. I can forgo my portion of the profits. For now. Money is always good, da, but right now let’s get to know each other. Come to my home and see what I have firsthand. Bring your beautiful wife-to-be, of course. See what I have to offer and if you like what you see, we do business. If not, we go from there too.”
Sevastyan’s chest rumbled under her touch, and it shocked her.
Similarly, it took all her willpower not to crumble under the weight of the other Russian’s powerful and slimy attention. Every inch of her body crawled with disgust so thick she needed a scalding shower to rid herself of the feeling.
“I move high commodity pieces of art,” he continued. “Exquisite pieces worth millions to the right crowds. I know you, Volkov. Money has a loud powerful voice and your reputation—your partners’—are like mine. Everything begins and ends with money and control. I hope you are the right people. Your brother was weak, a trait I hope does not run in the family.” A flirting warning of danger threaded through his tone and was backed up by the dark, almost soulless pits of his eyes. She didn’t need an ear to the ground to know this was not a man to be played with.
Vibes of energy flowed over her exposed skin and left a metallic taste in her mouth and what felt like a thousand ants crawling over her skin. Shivers scaled her spine, yet she couldn’t move.
