AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Fire shoots through my veins, and I consider using the baseball as a weapon to pummel his face.
“Because if I was married to a woman like that, I’d keep her bent over?—”
Without clearance from my brain, I reach into the back of my waistband, my hand curling around the cold metal of the Sig. As I disengage the safety, the door opens.
Zoya pops her head through. “Please tell me you are done talking business. We’re about to serve tea andmedovik.” Layer cake.
My hand slowly uncurls from the metal tucked into my waistband, and I straighten the lapel of my suit, looking down at the worm in front of me. If it wasn’t for his wife, a saint of a woman for putting up with him, I’d be calling in a clean-up crew to themayor’s fucking house.He doesn’t get to talk like that about the woman wearing my ring. No one does.
Dragging a slow, steady breath into my lungs, I stride out of the mayor's office. The urge to see Kira is overwhelming, a stark contrast to the fury that had me unraveling moments ago.
I storm through the room, my gaze scanning for her.
There she is, laughing with that American dickhead, Tim. A deep, possessive instinct floods my veins. First the mayor, then this asshole making her smile.
Kira's eyes widen as I approach. Lacking the patience for politeness, I send Tim a get-lost look. He gets the message and slinks away. I take his seat, but rather than maintaining a respectable distance, I lift Kira and set her down on my lap—right where she belongs.
She can't mask her surprise, her eyes meeting mine. "Everything okay?" she asks cautiously.
A muscle in my jaw twitches. "Everything's fine," I say tersely. "But I think it's time we started acting like newlyweds."
She nearly chokes on a laugh. "I see."
Ducking my head, I kiss her neck, eliciting a shiver from her. She smells like cinnamon and cloves, her skin unbelievably soft beneath my lips as if I'm pressing my face into satin. I go further, my hand trailing down her side to her legs. Her eyelids flutter shut for a moment, lashes casting delicate shadows on her cheeks. The contrast between the softness of her skin and the rough texture of the fishnets ignites a surge of desire.
She looks at me as though I've sprouted a second head, but she doesn't pull away, and I notice her pulse quicken at the base of her flushed neck.
“What are you doing? This is not part of the plan for tonight,” she hisses through gritted teeth.
“Actually, it is,” I murmur, my breath brushing her neck. The room buzzes with conversation, but it’s clear we've captured everyone's attention. “We’re here to put on a show, right? Let them see how your husband affects you. How much you crave his cock.” She goes still, caught off guard by my blunt words, or the way I lean in and sink my teeth into the delicate curve of her earlobe. “Don’t you, lastochka?
Her body tenses and she lets out a little whimper, which might have something to do with my thumb absently brushing circles on her inner thigh.
“Fuck.” The word comes out of her mouth as a half-whisper and half-moan.
I like the effect I'm having on her. I especially like that Pyotr’s watching us from across the room as he reaches for another shot of vodka.
Good.
Something territorial flares inside me, a raw emotion that sparks like an uncontrollable blaze. Let the mudak understand that she’s mine. Let the whole room take note and spread the word throughout Moscow. As I’m considering dragging Kira into the closest bathroom, Zoya materializes in front of us.
“Maxim, you must come and hear what Tim has in store for the Global Tech Conference. It’s groundbreaking, but some advice from you would be invaluable.”
I clear my throat, grounding myself into the polished businessman everyone expects, though I can't muster any enthusiasm.
"You should go," Kira says as she stands, her eyes revealing a flicker of disappointment, quickly concealed as she smooths her dress. "Grigor offered us season tickets to the Philharmonic. I should take him up on that."
I don’t need season tickets anywhere; all I have to do is show up at an event, and doors open. But Grigor is a true gentleman, and I’d prefer she spend time in his company rather than Pyotr’s.
“Get us the best seats in the house,” I say, and because possession still pumps through my veins, I pat her ass, not caring that her response is a not-so-subtle death glare.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
KIRA
What alien has takenover Maxim's body and replaced him with this ... caveman? Sure, the touchy-feely act is just for show, but earlier tonight at dinner, he didn't seem interested in any display. He barely looked my way. Maybe the alcohol helped him loosen up enough to realize we weren't acting like a newly married couple. Then again, Maxim doesn’t care about others' opinions. He doesn’t need to.
I glance across the room where he’s engaged in conversation with Tim, the younger man hanging onto his every word. Shivers run down my spine as I recall the rough warmth of his hand sliding down my leg and his whisper in my ear.
