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The blazing hot sun and the sounds wafting up to me from the beach below mellowed my bad mood. I couldn’t hide out here forever and the merest thought of Karine had stirred me up again.
It might be a good idea to switch tactics with her. Perhaps I’d catch more flies with honey. Sure, I could force my hand and she’d eventually capitulate, being the good little soldier that she was. But that wasn’t what I wanted. Ultimately it would be a lot more fun to make her fall hopelessly in love with me. A brokenhearted ice queen would be an added bonus when this was all over.
I stopped at one of the restaurants that we’d gone to on one of our dates, ordering the same meal she’d raved about then, to bring home as an olive branch. She must have heard the car pull up to the front of the house, because she was waiting in the foyer when I came in. Before she saw the restaurant takeout bag in my hand, she stepped forward, tentatively holding out her hand.
“I’m sorry about last night. I never should have lost control like that.”
I snickered, charmed by the way her cheeks turned red with her heartfelt apology. “You seemed in perfect control,” I told her, making her turn a deeper shade of scarlet. “And you have nothing to be sorry about. I was out of pocket.”
Her smile lit up her eyes and she took another step forward. This was what I wanted, to get on her good side and gain her trust. Who knew what kind of secrets she’d spill once I got her to really open up. Secrets that might speed up my plan.
And God, I really wanted her. Still in her shorts and flowy top, her hair had once again worked partly out of its braid to frame her face and float around her shoulders. I held up the takeout and her smile grew wider, recognizing it as what it was meant to be. An apology of my own.
Taking her hand, I led her into the kitchen, not wanting to bother with the long, formal dining room. I wanted to keep her close.
“How was your day?” she asked, smirking at the banality of it as she pulled plates from the cupboard.
“Productive.” I grabbed the forks and knives and met her at the table where I began doling out the portions of Cuban Mojo chicken with the side of fried plantains that had about made her eyes roll back in her head on our date.
“You remembered,” she whispered, sitting down.
I leaned over and smoothed a strand of hair off her cheek. Her skin was like silk. “My wife’s favorite meal? Of course I did.”
Her blush returned and I got her to tell me about her day, which she said she mostly spent reading in the library, then asked me about my favorite books.
Hell, I hadn’t read for pleasure since high school. Just too busy building our empire. I told her the last book I read, which was some biography of an ancient Chinese king—mostly to have something to talk about at a dinner party on my most recent trip to Beijing. She seemed sincerely interested and said she’d look for it.
Before she could start clearing away the dishes, I jumped up and brought them to the sink, earning another smile. I made a mental note to find out if staff came with the place, and if not, to hire a few people so neither one of us had to get into one-upping each other with the chores. I could think of a dozen more fun ways to use up our energy.
“How about we go out dancing?” I suggested when the dishes were washed and she’d dried them and put them away. I grabbed her and pulled her close, swirling her around the kitchen. “I know you’ve got moves from the reception. You can’t hide it.”
“Okay,” she said eagerly.
When I mentioned the name of the club I’d been wanting to try, her face darkened, and she pulled out of my loose grip. Once again ice cold. “That club belongs to one of the Morozovs,” she said.
Shit. I should have done my homework. But I had so many new cousins that I couldn’t possibly know every little thing they had a hand in. “What’s a Morozov?” I asked, cringing inwardly at having to feign stupidity.
She sighed deeply. “They’re our rivals. They think they own the entire city, and to be fair, they own a lot of it. For now. They’re a constant thorn in our side.”
“Well then, we don’t want to go where our enemies are. Somewhere else?”
She smiled, maybe because I’d included myself against their enemies, and I relaxed. Her smile grew more devious. “No. It’s supposed to be a great club, and we should put up a public show of strength to let them know we’re just as important around here.”
“Is that going to be safe?” I asked.
She shrugged. “You want to be part of this life, don’t you? You can’t let anyone think you’re weak just because you weren’t raised in it.”
“Hell no,” I said, pulling her close again. “Just so long as you’re safe, baby.”
“I’ll have my father send over plenty of bodyguards,” she teased.
At least I thought she was teasing. I was half amused and half terrified by her bloodthirsty glee to go mingle with the enemy. “What are the chances of a gunfight breaking out?” I asked.
She laughed delightedly and pulled away, still giggling as she ran upstairs to get ready. Once she was in the shower, I took out my hidden, secret phone and messaged Evelina to let her know what we were doing.
Maybe ask our cousins not to instantly start shooting.
She replied with a string of laughing emojis. What was up with these Bratva women? Was I the only one worried about getting killed just so I could show my crazy wife a good time?
