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“Yes, but doing business and having my sister wed the bastard are two different things! And don’t give me that crap about you wanting to get married. I don’t buy that bullshit. Did Ajello threaten you to make you marry Popov?”
Yes, Sienna. Did the don threaten you?
My wife’s shoulders drop in what appears to be a sigh, then she leans over the table and takes her brother’s hand. She’s saying something, but I can’t see what it is, damn it! Arturo listens with wide eyes and a clenched jaw, then throws a look in my direction.
“There are things you don’t know about him. Things I didn’t know when this marriage deal hit the table, or I never would have let you near him. He’s dangerous, and I want you out of his clutches.”
Sienna cocks her head to the side. Probably asking for an explanation of what those “things” are. I stand up and head across the restaurant. It’s time to cut this meeting short.
“We’re leaving,” I say when I reach their table. Whether to torture myself or Arturo, I’m not sure, I trace the tip of my finger over Sienna’s bare skin where her fuchsia sweater has slipped down her shoulder. “I need to be at Naos in two hours. Do you want to come?”
Sienna looks up at me and grins. “Can some of the girls tag along, too?”
“Yes.” I nod. “I need to have a word with your brother. Wait here.”
Arturo gets up, glaring at me the entire time we walk through the restaurant to his car which is parked out front.
“I don’t know what you’ve dug up on me,” I say and lean on the hood, “but you’ll keep your mouth shut.”
A look of surprise crosses his face, but it’s quickly replaced with an angry stare. “If you hurt my sister, I’m going to kill you.”
“Does your sister seem to be hurt in any way?” I cast a glance through the window to where Sienna is positioning Arturo’s untouched plate so she can take a photo of it.
“I’ll be watching you,” he barks and gets inside his car.
Once Arturo pulls out of the parking lot, I head back inside the restaurant and take a seat next to my wife.
“What did Arturo want?” I ask.
“Nothing much. He was just checking up on me.” She leans over the table and smirks. “I think my brother is afraid you’re going to eat me.”
“I might.” I reach out and place my hand over hers. “Do you think I’m dangerous,mila moya?”
Sienna’s lips part in surprise, and I need all my self-restraint not to slam my mouth to them. It’s becoming too hard to resist my young wife, even though I know she’s a spy.
“Do you have this place bugged?” She lifts an eyebrow.
“Maybe I do.” I place my free hand on the back of her neck. “Do you think I pose a danger to you, as your brother had said?”
“Yes.” Sienna’s eyes hold mine, unblinking. “Not in the way my brother believes, though.”
Her expression is completely serious, but for a fleeting moment, I glimpse a speck of vulnerability behind her willful stare. In a flash, it’s gone, and her lips widen into a smile.
“We should get going, Drago. I need to get ready for tonight.”
Keeping her hand in mine, I usher her toward the exit. She may believe that she’s successfully avoided the subject, but we’ll get back to it soon enough.
* * *
I lift the glass of Macallan to my lips and take a sip, observing my wife. Sienna is standing at the bar, laughing with Jelena and three other girls. She’s picked out another sparkling outfit for tonight. It’s a dress this time, covered in vibrant blue-green sparkly bits. Whenever she moves and the lights reflect off her dress, it looks like she’s covered in peacock feathers. She simply glows. I don’t understand how she can wear stuff like this and still look like a million bucks. On anyone else, it would look ridiculous. It’s also way too short.
Scanning the room, my eyes sweep over every man sitting or standing in the vicinity to make sure no asshole is checking out my wife’s legs. Just the thought unleashes my feral impulses.
The moment I saw her after she had gotten dressed for tonight, I sent a word to Misha, my club manager, to relay a message to every male guest before allowing them entry. Any man caught ogling my wife will leave the club with his eyeballs in a wine glass. The people who visit my club are regular clientele, so they know I’m serious. Naos might be neutral ground as far as business is concerned, but that rule doesn’t extend to private dealings. The only way anyone can look at my wife is with respect. All other “looks” will garner consequences.
I spot a man leaning on the bar some distance from Sienna, ordering a drink. He’s the owner of the local fleet management company. I’ve worked with him a few times when we had a shortage of available trucks. He came across as a smart guy, but it appears I was wrong, because he seems to be very interested in my wife’s ass. The barman passes him a bottle of beer, and the moron heads toward the end of the bar where Sienna is standing. Without moving my eyes off him, I beckon the security guard to approach.
“Drag that idiot to my office,” I say and nod toward the guy who now has planted himself next to Sienna and is trying to start a conversation. “Make sure my wife doesn’t notice.”
