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He pulls a black ski mask from his pocket and slides it over his head. It should look ridiculous with his suit, but my wet panties beg to differ.
“We look like breaking and entering Ken and his bougie Barbie.”
He grins, his white teeth stark against the fabric of the mask. “It’s for a good cause.”
“A thug and belle’s ball?”
“It’s for the awareness and rehabilitation of gang members.” He rolls out the standard speech I’m sure he’s given it a million times.
“And the truth?”
“It’s a recruitment drive.”
“Of course, it is. Though I thought the Bratva were pretty strict about their members.”
“Names and lineage are important, but henchmen are important too, not to mention they’re…”
“Expendable?”
“Exactly.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“I never claimed to be anything else. Don’t fool yourself into thinking I’m a good guy, Sugar, because you’ll only be disappointed.”
“Don’t piss me off when we’re about to leave. I know who you are, Maxim, but you know who I am too. I won’t interfere with your life if you don’t interfere with mine, but I have lines that I won’t cross. Though I won’t ever tell you what to do, I will walk away if you cross them. I have to be able to look in the mirror at the end of the day.”
He nods. “I know. Of course, I won’t actually let you leave, but I know where your hard limits lie. I am not unreasonable.”
“Whatever you say, Pakhan. Now let’s go fake smile our way through the evening. There will be alcohol, right?”
“I’m Russian, Sugar. What do you think?”
He grins and takes my hand, leading me out to the waiting car. He holds the door open for me as I lift the hem of my dress and climb in. He gets in beside me and tells the driver where we’re going before closing the partition.
“I must say, I like this color on you.”
I look down at the white silk dress I’m wearing under my wool coat and laugh. “And it has nothing to do with the fact that you know I’m wearing nothing underneath it.”
“You look like an angel, sweet and innocent,” he teases, pressing a kiss to my neck as his hand slides up the inside of my thigh. His pinky skims over the lips of my pussy.
“But one slip of my finger, and I can turn my good girl bad.”
“Unless you want me to arrive with a wet patch on my dress, behave yourself.”
He grumbles but pulls his hand free. “Fine. But only because I don’t want anyone else getting ideas.”
I shake my head and look out the window so he can’t see my grin. We relax in comfortable silence as the driver whisks us through the city to the ball. It’s not a long journey, but it’s enough that I’m cozy by the time we get there, and the thought of stepping out into the frigid night doesn’t appeal to me one little bit.
“Come on, I promise it’s warm inside.”
“I don’t know how you survive living like this all the time. I could cut glass with my nipples.”
“Sounds like a party trick that I’d love to see.”
He opens the door and climbs out, taking my hand and ignoring the flash of camera bulbs from the media. “But to answer your question—” he continues as if it were just the two of us and not a dozen other people staring at us as we exit the car “—I don’t know any different.”
“Remind me to take you to the beach when you come to visit.”
