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Yellow runs over me as he steps closer. “I love the dress. I also love the way your hair reminds me of how it looks spread out after I’ve fucked you. Butkotyonok, I don’t like not seeing you under all that makeup. Give me my Celia back with the pink cheeks, and lips the color of your nipples I love sucking on.”
How does he do that? With so few words, he turns me inside out and upside down. He’s going to pretend he didn’t hear what me and Sergei were talking about? I’m good with that…I think. Whatever it takes to keep him looking at me like he is now.
“Okay,” I whisper in a shaky exhale.
His large hand is gentle as he cups my face. The light caress of his thumb over my lips sends a shiver through me. “Thank you. I do not dare kiss you the way I want. Your father will bitch until the day he dies if we are late. I’m going to go get changed.”
I nod. As he walks away I can’t help notice, he did that thing again where he speaks formally. No contractions, everything measured. What happened in the shower comes back to me. How his Russian accent was so strong it was hard to understand him, the way he spoke was anything but careful and controlled. Maybe…no, stop it. Accept what hecangive you—it feels pretty damn close to love.
Sighing, I work to tone down the makeup Sergei helped me with. By the time I’m done it’s only enough to even out my skin tone and give a little bit of color.
I find Milos in the formal living room sipping scotch. “Scotch?”
He smiles. “Don’t tell anyone. When I really want to enjoy my liquor, I drink scotch. Vodka doesn’t roll around in your mouth quite the way scotch does.”
I’m surprised by his admission. “I’ll never tell another soul,” I promise gravely.
He grins. “In that case, I hate borscht and so much of Russian food with the sweet and sour to it. Sometimes, it feels like I’m faking at being Russian. It doesn’t matter if I speak Russian or not and grew up reading Russian literature. Russian literature is so fucking depressing. Every time I go to Russia all I want is to leave again and never go back. As cold as Chicago is, I shudder at trying to make it through a winter there.”
My smile fades and my chest tightens. I’m touched Milos is really talking—sharing with me. And it’s a secret I have no doubt he doesn’t even share with his brothers.
I reach for his glass, he holds it tight for a moment before letting go with a curious smile. I sip. “Macallan, good choice. So many times I feel guilty as hell people don’t recognize I’m part Filipino. I don’t know a thing about the culture. I’ve tried the food. I don’t hate it or anything but I don’t love it either. I hated Carlo for not letting us have anything to do with any of it, not the food, language, not a damn thing. Only now that I’m an adult, another part of me is relieved. Can’t I just be me, without the pressure of being something other—no box of White, Asian, all of that? I just want to be me.”
“You’re willing to raise our children speaking Russian.” The fingers he brushes against my tummy send wet heat to my core.
I can’t help leaning into his touch, he’s addictive. “I’m willing to give our children another world they can live in and learn from. I will also be willing to support them if they want to leave it and try another world.”
He flattens his palm, gently stroking me. “You are going to be an amazing mother. I can’t wait to see you with our children. I find I’m as hard at the thought of you with a belly, your breasts—” He shakes his head and steps away. Only now do I realize how heavily I was leaning against him. “I keep talking and we won’t just be late, we won’t make it.”
Blushing, I swallow the last of the scotch.
“As beautiful as the dress is, it’s missing something.” He slides his hand into the right inner pocket of his suit and withdraws a slim black velvet box.
I accept it with an attempt at a smile. Jewelry has never been all that appealing to me. But I know the world of money Milos moves in, and a man who wears a watch worth two hundred thousand dollars is going to ensure his woman, his most visible accessory, wears something as valuable. His accessory should complement him in every way.
Opening it, I find I’m right and wrong. I thought Milos wouldn’t put a collar on me, I’m wrong. It’s beautiful, there’s no question of that. Not simply a necklace, it’s a collar made of white gold or platinum, with square diamonds inlaid all the way around. From how clear and large the diamonds are I’m guessing it’s easily worth two hundred thousand.
“Thank you,” I murmur. keeping my eyes on it.
An exhale of air, almost a laugh. “Since you don’t like it, let’s try the other pocket.”
I’m shaking my head, but he’s already pulling out another thin velvet box from the inner left pocket of his suit.
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it—” I try to argue.
“No lying. I don’t want to have to spank you before we go. Open it,” he orders me.
It’s a necklace of sapphires and diamonds that match my engagement ring and eternity band that reappeared on my finger when I woke this morning. The design is of Xs and Os—hugs and kisses? This is clearly designed for me as the sapphires are cut into an X shape, not using a marquise cut to create the appearance of an X. The diamonds are round, each diamond is at least a carat. Touched Milos took the time to have it made, I smile. “I like this, it’s more—”
He sighs. “You will be getting a spanking tonight after we get home for all this lying. Last chance for me.”
I open my mouth but he’s pulled a square velvet box out of his pocket and opens it himself. It’s my tattoo and the design on the wall at his restaurant. A black cat silhouette made up of black diamonds, this time I have no doubt yellow diamonds are inlaid for the eyes. “Oh, Milos, it’s beautiful. I love it. Thank you.”
I’m sighing as I run a finger over it in awe.
His hand goes beneath my chin, pulling me up to his eyes. “Silver, no lies. I did good.”
Nodding, I smile up at him. “You did very good.” I turn my back to him and give it to him. “I want to wear it. Please put it on me.”
