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Kirill had already toldme some of his inner circle, his most trusted, would be dining with us tonight. I’d flattered myself into thinking, in his twisted way, that he was introducing me to his friends. Now I knew better. They were coming to laugh at my expense.
The time for dinner ticked past. I was ten minutes late, then twenty. Finally, I gathered my courage and anger and left the room. I’d spent the rest of the afternoon polishing my hurt like a jeweled spear.
I heard them before I saw them. There was the low hum of conversation in the dining room, a place we’d barely used, and the clink of ice cubes in glasses. I walked in, and the murmurs stopped.
I was wearing Kirill’s old sweats and t-shirt I’d run away in weeks ago. We had come full circle. Three men were sitting at the table apart from their boss. Max and two strangers. Their expressions were easygoing, jovial even. Only Kirill’s eyes met mine immediately. He wasn’t jovial. He was tense as hell. It gave me a kick to think of him waiting for me to join them while the time grew later and later. Now, his eyes fixed on my outfit, and any trace of humor fled his dark eyes.
Kirill was pissed. Well, he could join the club.
I sashayed past the occupied chairs and went to pull out my seat next to Kirill.
His voice was like a whip. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Sitting unless you want me on your lap again?” I asked.
His friends were still, deathly so. His hand was clenched into a pale fist beside his wine glass.
“Is that okay?” I sassed. I must’ve had a death wish, but it gave me too much satisfaction to push him if I was using the Kondo method, then pissing Kirill Chernov off sparked joy.
“Sit down,” he said after a long pause.
I’m sure his men wondered if they’d get any of Olga’s fantastic food before the table was overturned. They resumed their conversation hesitantly when Kirill failed to speak further.
I poured myself a huge glass of red wine.“Are you going to introduce me or pretend I’m not here?” I asked, just when everyone relaxed.
The tension thickened. A muscle ticking in Kirill’s jaw was the only indication I was annoying him.
“Of course. Max, you know. Ivan and Pyotr, this is Mallory Madison.” He turned his eyes to me. “Mallory, these three men are the only ones I trust with my life.”
“And mine, I suppose. I thought Max was a glorified doorman for all excitement he gets these days,” I said, reaching for a hunk of black bread and the butter.
To piss Kirill off further, I folded my legs on the wide chair, sitting cross-legged at the formal dining table, and slathered an unholy amount of butter onto it. Hmm, fat and carbs. Kirill seemed to have it his mission to feed me up.
“He watches what’s important to me,” Kirill said steadily.
Only days ago, that comment would have made my heart race. “What, your apartment?”
Ivan, sitting at the table, snorted with repressed laughter.
Kirill narrowed his eyes at me, studying me. I saw in those dark depths the ruthless interrogator he’d become and the boy who’d known me better than anyone. It was a killer combination.“Princess, you’re playing with fire tonight.”
I shrugged. “Yeah, well, it gets pretty boring around here. I have to make my own entertainment.”
Kirill sat back. “If your idea of being entertained is to be punished until you can’t sit for a week, then keep going.”
I snorted softly, looking at his men. “Kirill likes to pretend he’s my father, but he doesn’t like it when I call him Daddy. Go figure,” I mused.
Max snorted into the glass of wine he’d been burying his face in and fell into a coughing fit.
“Molly,” Kirill ground out, danger in his tone. Fear and anticipation skittered through me. So, this is how it felt to skirt danger? It was kind of exhilarating.
Max met my eyes and subtly raised an eyebrow at me in warning. It was too late for that.
“Yes, master?”
I saw the exact moment Kirill’s patience snapped, and he decided to give me exactly what I was asking for.
