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That’s my girl.
Kir bows his head to her. “Beautifulandsmart.”
It’s not lost on Lu that Kir and his two brothers are good looking guys. Tall, buff as hell, and covered in tattoos…
Fuck me. Am I jealous?
What a little bitch I am.
A moment later, before I can reconcile this strange feeling and relax my clenched jaw, a hand lands on my shoulder, startling me. “Well, if it isn’t the Alekseev brothers,” Rowan booms, extending his hand to each.
Did he notice what I did and swing by to protect his claim?
Christ, what animals we men are.
Regardless, I grab the opportunity to escape. Of course, with Lu.
Fuck, I don’t like being jealous. It’s a sign of weakness, and I am not a weak man.
But I can’t help it. I’m okay with Max and Rowan wanting her, coveting her, even owning her. But not any other man or men. No, that I can’t abide.
“Who are they?” Lu asks when we’d stepped to the side of the room with a fresh champagne for her and a bourbon for me.
I study her face for a moment, starting where her blonde hair is pulled tightly back from her face, down her smooth forehead to her arched brows, past those damn glittering eyes, to her perfectly straight nose and then to her pink lips, delightfully plump and symmetrical. Almost too perfect, really.
And her tits in that silk halter dress I got her, my god. The teardrop shape of them is perfectly visible, thanks to my selection, and her nipples have been hard and poking through the thin fabric since she arrived at my door.
Coatless. Does she not have a goddamn coat?
I know what I’ll be purchasing next time I shop for her. I’ve got to teach her to ask for what she needs.
When I get it together and stop staring at her, I consider her question.
Who were those men?
Simple question. Complicated answer.
But I don’t see myself lying. She deserves better.
“They’re from the Russian syndicate.”
Her brows rise. “Is that like the syndicate you work for?”
I think for a moment. How to explain who I am to a woman like Lu escapes me.
I will just have to hope she understands.
“Yes. Absolutely. They have businesses they run, mostly owned by Russians, just like we have businesses that we… inherited from our families. We do a lot of… things, Lu. Things some people might not approve of.”
I am suddenly strangely self-conscious. I don’t want her to think poorly of me. I respect her so much, and I want the same from her.
She looks over my shoulder at the milling guests, all decked out in their finest, smiling and glad-handing, seeing and being seen. “What about them?” she asks, gesturing with her chin.
I nod slowly. “Nearly all business associates. In one way or another.”
Her hand shakes, almost imperceptibly. I only notice because the champagne in her glass moves in tiny waves. “So, everyone here is in… organized crime? Or something like that?”
Okay. She gets it.
