Reign (The Syndicate: Crime and Passion Book 2) (3 page)

Knowing Maxim like I did, I knew he thought Senna and Luka were weaknesses, but I didn’t agree. He’d been in love with her for years, and at least now he got the joy of being able to show it.

I looked at Senna, today dressed in a bright yellow T-shirt and jeans. The color of the shirt beautifully complemented her brown skin and only added to the glow that seemed a halo around her.

“Hey, Se,” I said, leaning over to hug her short, curvy frame against mine before I let her go and looked down at her. “How are you?”

She looked a little tired, understandable, I guessed, but happy.

“Never been better,” she said as she moved to the small couch in the office and sat down.

“So Maxim and little Maxim aren’t being too much trouble?” I said, sitting next to her.

“Little Maxim is a joy. Maxim is…Maxim,” she said, laughing.

I joined in, relieved to see my good friend happy.

“So, how was it?” she asked, her brown eyes bright, curious.

“How was what?” I said.

“Sergei….” she said, her voice edged with skepticism.

“Oh. That,” I said, remembering the wedding that had momentarily slipped my mind. “Nice, I guess.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, but…” she said.

“Yes,” I replied.

There was no need to say anything else. Maxim wouldn’t have allowed Senna within ten miles of the wedding, not only because of the danger but because of Senna’s past with Santo. I didn’t know what had happened, but it was bad, and was the reason for all this. Still, I hadn’t wanted Senna there either. She was a good friend to me, and I’d never see her hurt, even though having a friendly face there would have been nice.

“What’s she like?” Senna asked, her eyes even more curious.

I shrugged and called up an image of Daniela and purposefully ignored the memory of looking into her dark eyes. “She’s…pretty.”

Senna frowned. “Pretty? That’s all you got?”

I shrugged again, thinking of the black hair swept up neatly without a single stray. I’d thought she was wearing makeup, but I hadn’t been able to tell whether she was covered or if her golden brown skin had had a glow naturally, her plump lips had been that naturally glossy. “She’s very…rich-looking,” I said.

“What does that mean?” she asked.

“Well, she just looks polished, pampered. Probably had everything handed to her all her life,” I said.

“Santo Carmelli is her father,” Senna said as if that settled the matter.

“Yes, that probably sucked,” I said.

“No probably about it. Besides, you can’t judge her based on what she looks like,” Senna said.

“I’m not judging her. I simply answering your question,” I said.

“Okay, so she’s polished. What else?” she asked.

“What’s up with the questions?” I said, mostly to cover for the fact that I had no idea how to begin answering them, and the fact that I found myself wanting to be able to.

“It’s not every day you get married, Sergei. Color me curious. I’ve been deep in diapers and bottles, so it’s nice to have something new to chat about,” she said.

“Yes, so…” I paused, not sure what else to say.

“What about her personality?” she asked.

“Nice,” I quickly replied.

She narrowed her eyes at me. “You don’t know?”

I shrugged.

She shook her head. “Sergei, you’re married to the woman. Did you even talk to her?”

“Of course,” I said.

“Other than to say ‘I do’?” Senna asked, though her expression told me she knew the answer.

I shrugged again. “What else is there to say? It’s done.” As simple as that, and nothing more, something I kept reminding myself.

She frowned. “You should talk to her. She’s probably terrified.”

“She looked terrified for a moment.” I paused. “And pissed,” I added, again remembering that flash of fire in her eyes I was sure she would have used to strike me dead if she’d had that power.

“You can see why,” Senna said.

“Yes, but…” I protested, not liking where this was headed. Talking to her would only make me more curious about her. I couldn’t afford that.

She shook her head. “You should talk to her. Reassure her,” she said.

“Reassure her? I can’t do that, and who says I want to or that it would be worth the trouble of trying?”

Senna smiled at me indulgently as if she couldn’t believe I’d suggest such a thing but was confident I would see the error of my ways.

“Just make sure she knows you’re not some kind of mad-dog monster. She needs to understand what she’s getting into,” Senna said.

“What she’s
gotten
into. And trust me, she has an idea. I’m sure Maxim left no doubt,” I said.

She frowned. “I’m certain he didn’t. But she’s not married to him. She’s married to you, and it would help her if she knew what kind of person you are.”

“And what kind of person am I?” I asked, genuinely curious as to what Senna would say.

“You’re not Santo. She should know that.”

“What about me?” I asked, lips tipping up in a smile.

“What about you?”

“You’re worried about her, but I’m in this too,” I said, pretending to be wounded by Senna’s lack of consideration.

She wasn’t buying it, and she rolled her eyes. “You can take care of yourself.”

“I thought you cared, Senna,” I said dramatically.

“The puppy-dog eyes don’t work on me,” she said, standing. She tapped me on the shoulder. “Talk to her. She might surprise you.”

I thought back to the venomous look on her face, the way she so quickly covered it.

“I doubt it,” I said.

D
aniela

“
I
wish
he would hurry up,” I muttered under my breath.

There was no one in the room to hear me, but I’d spoken out loud, needing some sound, even if it was just my own voice.

I couldn’t say I spoke the truth, though.

Did I wish he would hurry up? More like I wished he’d never arrive, but that was unlikely to happen. So the sooner he got here, the sooner this would be over.

And what, exactly, was this? I wasn’t entirely sure. I’d come here hours ago and waited to fulfill the last aspect of this wedding charade. But as of now, all I’d done was wait.

I shifted in the stuffed armchair, the voluminous dress rustling with my motion. Then I looked around the bedroom, saw that it was as it had always been, a guest room that had never welcomed guests in my lifetime. But my mother had seen to it that the room remained well-furnished and ready, and I’d continued that.

My new husband seemed to be putting it to use. There were no personal touches like photos, but I could see that he’d staked this place out for his own, his clothes neatly folded in the dresser, his toiletries in the attached bath.

Him being here, so comfortable in my family’s home wasn’t something I was sure I liked, but given everything else, I couldn’t get too upset. I’d always have the memories of this place and the people who’d lived in it no matter who it belonged to.

I sighed and shifted again, the tight corset cutting into my skin and my feet finally beginning to ache after so many hours in the tall, constricting heels. On a lark, I kicked them off and breathed what was my first sigh of relief. He wouldn’t be looking at my feet.

I threw my head back against the chair.

Assuming he ever got here.

Not a second later, I heard the doorknob turn and just as the door opened, I jumped from the chair and stood to face it, smoothing down my dress as if there was something I could do to tame it.

Sergei’s eyes landed on me immediately, and his brow quirked. He didn’t speak, though and instead walked in, moving confidently toward the closet. His jacket was folded over his arm, and his shirt was unbuttoned, giving me a view of his rippled stomach and light dusting of dark hair that covered it.

My eyes wanted to linger, stray elsewhere, but I kept my gaze firmly on his face, ignoring how my throat went dry or how fascinated I was with how he moved.

“That’s Matthew’s work,” I said suddenly, gaze squarely in the center of his back.

Then I was facing him as he turned, giving me another glimpse of his hard stomach and sculpted pecs. “What?” he said, looking far more surprised now than he had when he’d entered and found me here.

“Your tuxedo and shirt. Matthew made them,” I said, nodding toward the jacket he still held.

“Old guy, white hair, jumpy?” he asked.

I nodded, smiled before I wiped away the expression. “Yes,” I replied, “that’s Matthew.”

“Then, yeah, this is his work,” he said.

With his next breath, he tossed the jacket aside, not looking to see where it landed, and then he reached for the edges of his shirt and began to pull it off.

I watched, riveted as the linen slid off his strong shoulders to reveal just as strong arms and toned sides. I gulped—literally gulped—like I’d never seen a man’s bare torso before. While it was technically true I hadn’t ever seen one quite like this, the reaction was uncalled for. Besides, he was a criminal, a man who had all but forced me to marry him. Perfect chest or not, I couldn’t forget that.

I was close though, could easily imagine myself forgetting everything but the play of his muscles as he moved, the way the low light glowed against his skin, highlighting the lighter bits in his dark hair…

“What are you doing here?”

I blinked, momentarily taken aback by the smooth, low tone of his voice, and the realization that he was closer to me now. Much, much closer. Close enough that I could feel the warmth rising from his skin, smell his clean, masculine scent.

Gulping again, I craned my head up. Without the few extra inches of height the heels gave me, the way he towered over me was exaggerated even more, and this close, I couldn’t miss his strength and power, or the way he stared down at me, not quite glowering, but leaving no doubt that he wanted an answer.

“What?” I responded.

He lifted his mouth in what was a surprising genuine smile, his eyes taking on a warmth that softened his features just enough to make me forget who he was and what he was capable of.

“Why are you here?” he said, his voice patient but the question still clear in his tone.

“I-I wanted…” I stammered, hating that I did, but not sure how to respond, not sure that I could even say it out loud.

“There’s no assassin in the closet, and as good as Matthew’s work is, I don’t think you were waiting here to discuss it. So why are you here?”

“Umm,” I stammered again. “I, ah, wanted to introduce myself,” I finally said.

And that was true. In a way. It sounded so much better than “I wanted to cut to the chase and get the sex part of this sham marriage out of the way.”

I’d keep that little tidbit to myself. Men like him wouldn’t appreciate the honesty, and I didn’t want to do anything to rock the boat. In fact, I was here now to prove it.

“Introduce yourself, huh?” he said.

I thinned my lips, a moment’s temper rising up before I mercilessly cut it down. Still, I didn’t like the teasing in his voice, or in his eyes, and it was hard to think with him standing so close.

“Yes,” I said. Then I extended my hand, not able to stretch it completely because of how close he was. “I’m Daniela Carmelli.”

I felt like an idiot, my hand hanging there limply waiting for a handshake like I wasn’t married to him, like he wasn’t a fucking mobster.

“Vetrov,” he said.

“What?”

“Daniela Vetrov,” he repeated. As he spoke, he reached for my hand, and with surprising gentleness, pushed it back to my side. His touch set off a shiver of pleasure, the roughness of his fingertips so at odds with the gentle way he touched me.

“Is that...? Is that your last name?” I said.

“Yes.”

I swallowed. “Mine too now,” I said.

He nodded, but stayed quiet, and so did I, studying his face at the same time as I tried to understand what was happening. My body was lit with desire that grew more insistent as I stared at him, and I didn’t know what to do or how to feel about it.

“That’s all?” he said.

“I’m sorry,” I responded a beat later than I should have. He lifted his lips, that little smile deepening, and I knew he’d caught me.

“You only wanted to…introduce yourself?” he said.

“Yes. Did it seem like I wanted something else?” I asked.

Even if I hadn’t been breathless, even if I hadn’t been trying to avoid looking at his body, I would have been given away. The desire I felt was too strong to hide, and I suspected that Sergei was far more savvy than he pretended to be.

He looked down, let his eyes rest on the rise of cleavage that my dress revealed, then down my bare arms. “You could see how I might get a different impression?” he said, his eyes now back on my breasts.

“And,” I stopped, swallowed, and then began again. “And if that were the case, this…other impression, what would you say?”

The smile stayed on his face, but his eyes darkened. Slowly, he reached up and trailed three rough-tipped fingers against my neck. Then he leaned forward, brushed his lips against mine, the touch so light I would have thought I imagined it if not for the shock of electricity that shot through me.

“Good night,” he said.

Then he turned, leaving me a view of a back that was as strong and muscled as his front and a swarm of buzzing emotions.

I stared at his back as he went toward the closet, still trying to process what was happening. This was not at all what I’d had in mind. I wasn’t going to try to seduce him; my pride wouldn’t allow it. But to have him stand so close that our breaths practically mingled, have him touch me, his warm voice slipping over my skin like a caress.

Only then to have him send me away…

I should have been happy about that, should have been beyond relieved that he hadn’t wanted to press his claim.

I wasn’t.

S
ergei

“
H
oly fuck
,” I said as I stood in the shower with cold, but not nearly cold enough, water beating down on me.

When I’d walked in to find Daniela waiting on me, I hadn’t been surprised. It was a straightforward play, really. She’d offer herself to me, thinking she could fuck me right under her thumb, and then use me to protect Santo, maybe even get his business back for him.

So I’d been prepared, expected lingerie that would show off her luscious curves, expected the neutral Daniela to be replaced with a sex kitten ready to do anything to gain the upper hand.

What I hadn’t expected was her to be tentative at first, almost nervous, and then unable to hide how hard she was trying not to look at me as I undressed. That could have been a game, part of her ruse, but my gut told me it wasn’t.

When she’d reached out to shake my hand, it had taken all my power not to fuck her right there. The formal sweetness of the gesture combined with the anything but sweet look in her eye had been a potent combination, one that had me hard for her instantly.

So why did I send her away?

That wasn’t a question I could answer, even as I stood nearly an hour later still hard and struggling not to stroke myself until I came, an image of Daniela in my head. Had I said the word, she would be here now, that dress gone, her body there, mine to lose myself in.

Even now, I was tempted to go to her, take what she had offered in her delicate way.

But I wouldn’t, not even as my throbbing cock urged me to rethink my decision. Daniela was Santo’s daughter, so I needed to tread carefully. But she was also something else, a woman who would shake her husband’s hand, blush when he took off his shirt, and then stare at him with the most passionate desire in her eyes.

A woman I suddenly found myself excited to get to know better.

I would have her. Of that there was no question.

The only question that remained was when.