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She opens the door on my side and barges inside. When I don’t slide in beside Adrian, she sits partly on my lap. It’s a mere brush of clothes against clothes, but my dick jumps to life at her closeness, at the warmth of her skin under the dress, and at the fact that she’s still wearing the toy I shoved inside her.
I inhale deep, and that only makes things worse since her scent infiltrates my nostrils. She smells like an exotic goddess out to destroy her peasants. It’s not only about the intense perfume that makes her presence known, but also the way it mixes with her natural scent.
It takes me a few seconds to get my mind out of my dick.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I don’t contain my displeased tone.
Controlling our emotions is the first thing we were trained to do, and yet, all those years seem to vanish whenever this spitfire of a woman is around.
“You’re paying a visit to the Lucianos, right?”
“Yes,” Adrian says with a calm I sure as fuck don’t feel.
She lifts her chin. “I’m coming, too.”
“No, you’re not.” I try to push her out of the car, but she grabs my bicep, nails sinking into the cloth and my skin. It’s like being scratched by a small kitten. The expression on her face is anything but, though. She’s on a mission and won’t stop until she accomplishes it.
That’s one of the traits that never changed about her: determination mixed with fearlessness.
“You can’t stop me. If you kick me out, I will follow you in my car.”
“And do what?” I feign nonchalance. “Tell Lazlo you’re sorry he got shot at our wedding?”
“Exactly.”
“No. It will appear disrespectful if a woman is sent to visit him.”
Her lips thin into a line, because she knows I’m right. The Italians are as traditional as the Russians, if not worse. They don’t take well to women in leadership positions—at all. The only reason she’s allowed in the Vory’s inner circle is due to being Nikolai’s granddaughter and her being smart enough to remain in the background while her granduncle rules. It doesn’t mean she likes or accepts the sexist reality of the world she was thrown into, though. Rai has always been the type who swims against the current.
“It’s not disrespectful since it was my wedding,” she counters.
“Our,” I correct her.
She glares at me but doesn’t comment on that and says, “Point is, the Lucianos will appreciate the gesture.”
“No, they won’t, and you’re not the one who will be faulted for this. Sergei will appear disrespectful for sending you.”
“He didn’t.”
“They will assume he did.”
“If we go together, it will be more respectful.” She steals a glance at Adrian. “Right?”
Still not participating in the conversation and observing the show like a freak, he shakes his head once.
Rai’s shoulders sag, expression falling. She knows she’s been pushed into a corner and can’t do anything about it.
For some reason, something inside me tightens at the look in her eyes, the frustration mixed with despair.
I don’t want that look on her face. Ever. No idea why, but I just don’t like it.
“Unless you ask to meet his wife?” I suggest.
Adrian raises a brow at me as if he knows exactly where my train of thought went and why the hell I’m saying this when I was so hell-bent on kicking her out.
“You mean, console her?” she asks.
“Something of the sorts, but it needs to look authentic and not out of pity.”
“Then that’s a good reason for me to go with you now.”
“No.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because it wouldn’t seem genuine.” I pause, stroking her arm. She’s as caught up by surprise as I am by the gesture, her huge eyes staring up at me. “Set up a brunch for women only and make her the guest of honor.”
Her nose twitches as she winces before she quickly hides it. That’s weirdly adorable. “I’m not good at female bonding.”
“You’re doing just fine with Anastasia and—”
She places her palm on my mouth, shutting me up, and shakes her head discreetly. Right. She doesn’t want anyone in the Vory to know about the existence of her twin sister. I have my suspicions that Adrian has figured it out already, though.
I remove her hand but still hold it in my palm. I don’t know when the fuck touching her became so familiar to the point of turning into an addiction. “Have Anastasia help you and you’ll get through it.”
She narrows her eyes on me in that suspicious way. I wouldn’t blame her. All my actions have been red-alert-worthy.
“I don’t trust you,” she says point-blank.
“As you shouldn’t. The moment you trust me, you start digging your own grave, Princess.”
“Then how do you expect me to go along with this plan?”
“I don’t have to tell you which is the best option. That brain of yours already works in overdrive, so listen to what it tells you.”
