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“Hello?”
I blinked, coming down to earth hard. My cock was hard again. I released her and stepped back, leaving her staring at me. Bewildered.
“The boat is waiting. You will stay by my side or within my sight tonight,” I said. “This is a business party, which means it’s not safe for you to be alone.”
“You know what? Fine, I’ll go with you,” she said, rolling her eyes.
That was good enough for me. I led the way outside and down the beach where the transport boat waited for us. She sat on the deck with her hair whipping in the wind, looking like a fucking goddess in that dress, the moonstone resting just above her cleavage.
My dick twitched.
The sun was setting as we pulled up beside the yacht and I saw her jaw drop slowly. Her eyes were round and she stayed close to me as we alighted the deck and entered the group of partygoers. She kept turning in circles, like she couldn’t believe her eyes, and it was making me nervous.
She looked like a target. Like a very young woman completely out of her depth.
I took her elbow, skimming my fingers down and interwove them with her small hand. Her arm tensed and she glanced up at me, eyes glinting in the setting sun.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“Keeping you with me,” I said, leading her across the deck to the bar. “You need to pretend to be my woman. These men aren’t safe and you need protection.”
She nodded once. “Okay, I get it.”
We both ordered drinks and I stared her down as we waited, amazed by how quickly she oscillated between being a wildcat and a good girl who clung to me for protection. The bartender handed her an Aperol Spritz and me a dash of Japanese whiskey in a short glass and I took her arm and guided her to the railing.
There was a group of men talking among each other a few yards away. Iris leaned down to take a sip of her drink, but her eyes were fixed to them. She swallowed slowly, touching the corner of her mouth with her finger. Smudging her lipstick slightly.
“Those men are speaking Russian,” she said quietly.
I dipped my head. “There are people from all over the world here.”
“But...our outfit…we’re not friendly with the Russians.” She cocked her head, waiting.
“Not all Russians are associated with their organization.”
She nodded once. I glanced down as she bent forward to rest her bare arm on the railing. God, she was a fucking knockout in that dress with her sun bleached hair falling around her shoulders. She just needed some diamonds on her fingers and her ears and she’d look like a queen. The kind of woman I was expected to marry as an Esposito.
She took a deep drink and released a sigh. “Is this the kind of life you lead all the time?”
“What do you mean?”
She waved a hand. “Kidnapping whatever woman you want, going on yachts, staying on private islands. It’s very glamorous.”
I shrugged. “I’m working.”
Her eyes fixed to mine, narrowing. She’d lined them with dusky black that winged out, accentuating the blue green of her irises. Her full mouth was glossed and it glistened in the sinking sun.
“Do you ever get lonely, Duran Esposito?” she said softly, her voice falling until it was husky.
“No,” I said firmly.
“Why? Because you could have a different woman in your bed every night?”
“No, because I’m too fucking busy to get lonely,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous of who I have in my bed.”
She snorted quietly, rolling her eyes in a way that seemed a bit jealous. I took hold of her wrist, circling it lightly and firmly. Reminding her how easily I could simply press her back, pin her down, and rouse the hungry little animal in her that wanted me.
“You like this,” I observed. “This game of pushing and pulling.”
