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Mia sighed her disappointment, having really hoped they would spend a lazy morning in bed together, exploring more of the pleasure they’d shared the night before. The fact Darius wasn’t here beside her told her that wasn’t going to happen.
Mia had kissed every single one of his scars the night before. They were extensive, as Darius had said they were, but to Mia, they were the physical evidence of his bravery. The fact he’d been fighting in Afghanistan at all made him a hero in her eyes.
Nothing Darius said this morning or in the future was going to change how she felt about him.
To her last night had been…life-changing.
In a way she never wanted to end.
Yes, she knew that one conversation they’d had when Darius shared the horrors of his past with her wasn’t going to suddenly turn him into a man who was going to share everything with her, let alone willingly enter into a long-term relationship.
She wasn’t that naïve. But it had been a start. A crumbling of those defenses Darius had built about his emotions.
Their lovemaking had battered down more of those walls.
One thing last night had definitely told Mia was that she was in love with Darius. Deeply. Steadfastly.
And she had absolutely no idea how he felt about her.
Perhaps the fact he wasn’t still in bed with her was indication enough?
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
Mia left the bedroom after taking one of Darius’s clean T-shirts from the dresser drawer and pulling it on over her nakedness. She didn’t see any point in looking for any other of Darius’s clothes that might fit her when she fully intended for the two of them to be back in bed together very soon. Honey was sitting outside in the hallway waiting for her, and Mia paused long enough to give her a hug before continuing down the hallway, the dog at her heels.
She came to an abrupt halt in the doorway to the sitting room when she realized the murmur of voices wasn’t coming from the television or radio, but from all the tall and imposing men taking up most of the space in the room.
Her gaze instinctively sought out Darius, some of her tension easing when she saw him standing across the room, his expression grim as he talked with two other men. One of them she knew to be Casper. The other man had silver at his temples, and Mia recognized him as being the eldest Kingston brother, Sinclair.
Three of the other men were more of Darius’s brothers, the fourth his cousin, Adam.
The eighth man was as tall and imposing as the Kingston men, but he had blond hair and the sharpest cheekbones Mia had seen that weren’t on the delicious Benedict Cumberbatch. The man was probably aged in his early to midforties, and he wore a perfectly tailored black suit with a pristine white shirt and perfectly knotted gray tie.
But it wasn’t his appearance that made it difficult to look away from him. It was the leashed aura of power radiating off his powerfully muscled body. Also, his eyes, narrow and predatory, which were so pale and icy a gray, they almost seemed otherworldly.
He stood apart from the Kingston family, his back to the window, his bored expression giving every appearance of him not actually listening to any of the conversation around him. As if he had already decided on a course of action and so had no interest in anything anyone else had to say on the subject.
Mia knew instinctively this was the man Casper had talked about. Nikolai Volkov, the ruthless second to thepakhanof London. A man who gave off all the warmth of a cold Russian winter.
As if aware of being watched, the blond-haired man turned his icy gaze to look across at where she stood frozen in the doorway.
Mia tensed as he unhurriedly, and unnoticed by the other men, made his way across the room toward her.
“Impressive, aren’t they,” he remarked dryly as he moved to stand beside her.
Mia wasn’t sure how to take that remark. “I feel reassured by their presence, yes.”
He nodded tersely. “And mine?”
“Not sure yet,” she replied guardedly.
He gave an appreciative smile. “You must be Mia Smith.”
“Must I?”
“Oh yes.” He glanced down at the dog at her side. “And this has to be Honey.” He went down on his haunches to make a fuss over the dog for several long seconds before straightening and once again turning that piercing silver gaze on Mia. “I’m Nikolai Volkov.” He thrust out his hand.
She touched it briefly, nonplussed that he also knew the name of the dog at her side. “I know who you are.”
