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“Prove it.”
She looks confused for a moment. “Prove it?”
“I want a photoshoot. Picture of you in all the lingerie I’ve bought you. A private album just for me. Something I can look back on and remember exactly how I felt.”
She looks amused by the idea. “And how do you feel?”
I look her in the eye and say the only word that feels right: “Alive.”
34
MISHA
“You were in Paige’s office for a suspiciously long time.” Konstantin is lounging on my sofa, a computer open in his lap and that undying twinkle in his eye.
I drop my jacket on the back of my hair and fall into my chair. “I had to bring her up to speed with the company accounts.”
Usually, I’d try to come up with a more convincing lie, but I’m completely spent. My wife has a libido that’s dwarfing mine.
Konstantin snorts so loudly that he actually chokes a little. “I passed by Paige’s office earlier,” he says. “I wasn’t aware that ‘catching up on company accounts’ involved such heavy breathing and squeaking chairs.”
“You listened at the door?”
“I wasn’t trying to. But it was pretty obvious what was going on in there.” He gives me a mischievous grin. “Look at you, living the high life.”
“Shut up.”
Konstantin just laughs again. “I can’t quite believe it. First, Maksim; now, you. Who knew the Orlov men were such romantics at heart?”
Crossing my legs requires a little more effort than usual. My legs feel like jelly, a direct result of fucking Paige against her desk for almost fifteen minutes straight before we came the second time.
I wave him away, switching into business mode. “Enough of that. Let’s talk moves.”
“Changing the topic. How predictable.”
“We’re at work, Konstantin.”
“Sure, but I want to be at work the wayyou’reat work. Because apparently, your way involves hot midday sex.”
“She’s my wife. It’s different.”
“Meaning what? I have to marry a girl before I fuck her on my office desk? If so, you won’t have to worry about ever overhearing my sex noises. I’m not the marrying kind.”
“Famous last words.”
Konstantin laughs once more, though this one comes tinged with bitterness. “Yeah, yeah, I know. But I’m not like you or Maksim. I’m a lowly bastard, remember? What sexy little vixen would want to marry an off-brand Orlov like me?”
That catches me by surprise. We don’t usually talk about Konstantin’s parentage. In fact, we never do.
“You are my cousin,” I say. “Legitimate or not, you’re family. That’s all there is to it. You have the respect of every man in this Bratva.”
“Because I’m your right-hand; not because I carry the name. A name that’s not even technically mine.”
“You—”
Konstantin smiles placidly as he interrupts me. “You’re right. We should discuss moves.”
I’m not sure what triggered that conversation. It strikes me that while I’ve been sorting through the swamp in my head, Konstantin has been going through his own shit.
