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I had two reactions prepared–one for if she was upset and one for if she’d been glad to have the problem taken care of. It irritates me that she hadn’t seemed happy, after the lengths I’d gone to in order to make sure he was taken care of. It’s not as if I hadn’t taken pleasure in it–killing him gruesomely had been more than enjoyable, after his insult to me and his threats to the woman I considermine.
I hadn’t known if she’d buy my alibi. But she had. I’d seen it in her face as she’d started to believe me, the relief when she’d decided that I wasn’t the culprit. I know now why she’d been so upset last night, when I watched her in her room.
I wondered if I’d be able to get her back to the house after that. Good sense would have dictated that she wouldn’t agree to goout of the city with me and stay in a strange place, especially overnight. But incredibly, she had.
Which means every last piece has fallen into place.
The knowledge that she’s decided to trust me, to go home with me without even negotiating the price beforehand, that she chose to believe me, is more satisfying than anything else that has happened so far, even that first night in my penthouse. I can feel the rising flood of adrenaline as I take her back to the car, knowing how the rest of the night will go. I’m going to fuck Natalia Obelensky within an inch of her life, make her scream my name and come for me, make herbegfor more, and then–
There’s not an ounce of resistance as she gets into my car. Not a word about money. I wired her the “allowance” we’d agreed on, and I’d given her a little extra, just to help sweeten the deal. It seems to have worked, because it seems to be the last thing on her mind. As I drive out of the city, I feel her reach over, her slender fingertips tracing the back of my hand.
“What made you decide to get a place outside of the city?” she asks curiously. “Did you just want the quiet?”
I wanted a place where no one would be able to hear you scream. Fortunately, the most dangerous assassin in Moscow offered me the keys to hang onto for a little while.
“Exactly.” I glance over at her, smiling wryly. “The city gets to be too much, sometimes. It’s nice to have a place to go where there’s no noise other than my own thoughts. I like the peace–a garden to read in, to write. Solitude. It’s harder to come by these days.”
She gives me a soft, surprised smile. “I wouldn’t have thought you would be the ‘reading in the garden’ type.”
“Well, now you know.”
“Who knows what else I’ll find out tonight.” There’s a hint of soft seduction in her voice that surprises me. I expected that she’d hold out until we’d negotiated forsomethingbefore she started to flirt. It sends a thrill through me to think that she might be starting to feel something of the same relentless desire that’s been coursing through me for weeks now.
She leans forward slightly as we drive up the long gravel driveway that leads to the house. She’d grown progressively quieter as we’d left the city, and I suspected that her nerves were starting to get the better of her, but now she seems intrigued again. The house is tucked back behind several stands of trees, well away from any other homes, and I have a feeling that Vladimir likely bought up a good deal of the land around it, to keep it secluded.
“It really is charming!” Natalia exclaims as we get closer, and the two-story stone house comes into view. It’s larger than what I personally would callcharming, just shy of being the size of an estate house, but I’m not about to argue. If she’s pleased, it will make what I have planned that much easier.
“Do you want a drink or a tour first?” I ask as we walk inside. “I do have to warn you, the tour is likely to end up in my bedroom.”
“We’ll start with a drink, then,” she says with a teasing grin, walking past me towards the living room. “Can you make me the same thing you made me that first night at your other place? The old-fashioned?”
“Coming right up.” I feel a burn of irritation at what feels like something just shy of an order from her, but it’s quickly salved with the thought of her on her knees, her hair wrapped aroundmy fist as I give her something else to fill her mouth with.Soon. Just a little longer.I’d been hoping she’d opt for the tour, but I can wait.
I’ve been patient this long.
She’s sitting on the long grey couch when I bring the drinks, and she accepts hers with a smile, waiting for me to sit down next to her. “How long have you had this place?” she asks, looking around at the art on the walls and the tasteful decorations. “Did you hire someone? It’s beautifully done.”
“I did. Someone with better taste than me.” I grin wryly at her. “They did a wonderful job, and now all I have to do is keep it up–well, the housekeeper who comes once a week and me.”
“Oh?” She raises an eyebrow. “She’s not going to walk in on us, is she?”
A bolt of lust shoots down my spine at the clear innuendo, stiffening my cock instantly. “Why?” I ask silkily. “What would we be doing?”
Natalia leans closer, a faint smile on her lips. “Well, I think it will depend on how I’m feeling when we get to the end of that tour.”
Her mouth is very close to mine, and I have a burning urge to grab her chin and drag her the rest of the way, crushing her lips against my mouth, forcing my tongue inside to taste the sharp tang of whiskey there.
“Shouldn’t you tell me what I’ll have to pay first?” I almost want to bite back the words as I say them, but I want to hear her say that she wants me. I want her to tell me that money isn’t necessary. I want her to give me everything.
Her eyes flick up to mine, her face tilting that much closer. “We can talk about it later,” she says softly. “I’m sure you won’t come up–short.”
“You know that already.” I can hear the rough note of lust in my voice, and my hands itch to grab her. “You’re so very tempting, Ekaterina. I’d rather have the taste of you on my lips than this drink.”
“Well, we already did this on a couch once.” She grins at me. “So you’ll have to wait until you take me upstairs. I like novelty.”
I stand up, reaching for her hand. “We’ll take the tour as we drink, then, or I won’t be able to wait long enough to give you what you want.”
I half expect her to argue, but she stands up, too, tucking her hand in my elbow as we walk. I feel as if I’m vibrating with need, adrenaline flooding me at the idea of having her under my power completely, but I force myself to slow down, to show her around the house–the gardens out back, the kitchen, formal dining room, and the study, before taking her upstairs to the second floor. “I could show you all of the guest bedrooms,” I tell her, low and dark, as I lean closer to her, pinning her against the side of the banister. “But I think I’d rather show you mine, first.”
