Mr. Romanov had very specific criteria of what he wanted. This…does not fit that criteria.”
Keira had been going back and forth with the dressmaker Dmitri had contracted with for an hour. Cathy looked like she should be in a kitchen somewhere, baking cookies for her grandkids. Her long hair was unashamedly silver, and she had the plump body of a life well lived. The one time she’d smiled, it had made Keira want to do something to make that expression reappear.
But Cathy wasn’t going to win this particular argument.
She put a sweet smile on her face. “Cathy, I’d actually like three of the dresses. I’m recently married, you know, and I want to surprise my husband.”
The woman narrowed her eyes. “Then buy some lingerie.”
The two dresses Keira had her eye on were more revealing than most lingerie she’d seen, but she knew better than to say that aloud. “I plan to seduce him over a long dinner. Doing that in lingerie is trashy.”
Cathy nodded to concede the point—just like Keira expected she would. The woman chewed her bottom lip. “The black and the nude, then. Wear the green tonight. It does good things for your skin, though your hair is a mess.”
It was an effort not to roll her eyes. Yes, Mother. Getting her hair back to something resembling her natural color was high on her list, so she’d already taken steps to do that before the dinner later. “That sounds great. If you don’t mind sending Dmitri the bill…” She made a show of looking at the clock. “I have to work on my horrible hair.”
Cathy turned red, but she didn’t stammer or try to apologize. It made Keira like her, just a little bit. The woman pulled the three dresses off the racks she’d brought in and transferred them to Keira’s closet. “It’s not my place to say it, but I hope you aren’t planning on doing anything stupid.”
She smoothed out her expression. “You’re right. It’s not your place.”
Cathy stammered and blushed a deeper red. “Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. Give me five minutes and I’ll be out of here.”
Keira nodded and walked into the bathroom. She had two hours until dinner, and she needed a full hour to fix her stupid hair. Going blond had seemed like a good idea at the time, but it was a decision made more to relieve her boredom than for any legit reason. She’d hated it as soon as she saw the results, but Aiden caught her on her way to the store to grab different dye and he’d made such a fuss about it, she’d felt honor bound to keep it out of spite. Stupid and stubborn to the bitter end.
She dug the box of dye out from where she’d stashed it beneath the sink. Pavel seemed to be her designated guard dog, and he’d only balked a little when she’d explained she needed to go to the store. Once she started throwing around the word tampons and describing the various sizes and specifics, he’d decided maybe it was best if she go with an escort rather than send one of the men.
Keira stripped down to her bra and went through the motions of applying the dye. It would supposedly be a rich brown when all was said and done, but she’d learned the hard way that grocery store hair dye lied. If she had a little less pride, she would have asked Dmitri to send her a stylist, but she already felt like a kept creature. No need to make it worse.
By the time she was done, Cathy was gone and Keira was alone. She set the timer and snagged the coat she’d worn to the store. Setting it down, she sank onto the floor and extracted the three travel-sized bottles of vodka she’d slipped into her pockets when no one was looking. They felt both too small and too large in her hands. She rolled them across her palm, her entire body clenching with the need to uncap them and drain what little liquor there was down her throat. It wouldn’t be enough to get her even slightly buzzed, but it would feel good while she was doing it.
Addict.
She hated that voice. She hated it even more because it sounded a little like Dmitri. Yeah, maybe I am. So what?
Impossible to gain the upper hand if you’re focused on stealing alcohol and drinking yourself stupid.
She didn’t know if there was an upper hand to be gained. For all her talk of making Dmitri pay, the only thing she’d managed to do was avoid falling into bed with him. So far. Maybe she was fooling herself if she thought she could actually…
No. Stop that. You are not this weak, sniveling defeatist. You are a motherfucking O’Malley, and you are not going to give up until the bitter end.
She carefully set the bottles in the back of the bathroom cabinet, behind some cleaning supplies. Keira released a long breath and pushed to her feet, shutting the cabinet door a little harder than necessary. She could feel the presence of alcohol in the room as if it was a shining beacon, and that alone had her turning to the shower. She checked the timer and decided it was close enough.
She rinsed her hair and then washed it, watching the dark rivulets of water run down her body. Impossible to see that visual as anything other than representation of the poison leaving her system. It didn’t matter that it had actually happened days ago. What mattered was that she had made the choice today. No one had made it for her.
And that put a tiny bit of power back into her hands.
Keira took extra time getting ready. It had been forever since she’d worked the glam look, and she was out of practice, but the final result was pretty fucking good. Her now-dark hair was pinned up in a way designed to bring on bedroom thoughts, as if one sharp move would send it tumbling down her back. Subtle smoky makeup brought out the green in her hazel eyes, and she’d painted her lips a bright fuck-me red.
But it was the dress that really brought the whole look home.
The green dress that Cathy recommended was high-end and screamed money and class. That wasn’t the one Keira chose. Instead, she put on the black one. She pulled on a pair of heels and walked to the door to her room, the heavy dress shifting against her skin with every step. It felt decadent and sinful—and looked even more so than the lingerie Cathy had suggested. The Russian won’t know what hit him.
There would be others here for this event, but Keira could give two fucks. Her body wasn’t her own, just like her life wasn’t her own. It never had been. She’d bargained both away, and even if she hadn’t pulled the trigger on sex, she would at some point. There was no doubt about it. Dmitri owned her.
Well, if he wanted a pet, she’d look like a fucking pet—and she’d make him choke on the truth. She might have technically chosen this, but it wasn’t what she wanted.
Keira lifted her chin and headed downstairs.
* * *
She’s late.
Dmitri didn’t let his impatience show as he greeted his cousin. “Ivan, welcome.”
Ivan was a big bear of a man who had a laugh that could roll through an entire room, and was more than capable of smashing skulls with his bare hands. He covered up a clever intellect with meandering words and had been constantly underestimated when they were teenagers. He was still being underestimated, despite being in charge of Romanov operations in the South. “Hello, Dima!” He smacked Dmitri on the back hard enough that he would have stumbled forward if he hadn’t braced for it. “Where’s this wife of yours? I have to bring back a report to my Natasha and she’s going to demand details. O’Malley, was it? She’s, what, the third choice? Fourth? Not like you at all to settle for scraps.”
Dmitri kept his smile tight and unwavering. “Keira was the only suitable choice.” It was the truth, even if reality was slightly more complicated. He’d originally intended to marry her older sister Carrigan, but that deal had gone sideways almost as soon as it was made—she was in love with another man, after all. The other sister, Sloan, had never really been an option for various reasons.
None of it mattered. The moment he’d met Keira and she picked his pocket, he knew that he had to have her. No one else would do.
Ivan looked past him into the obviously empty room. “Where is she? Don’t tell me she took advantage of your distraction and climbed out a window.”
Since that was exactly the sort of thing Dmitri expected of her, he’d stationed a man at both the front and back of the residence to ensure she didn’t do something foolish. But Keira had been closeted in her room all afternoon. He’d been assured that she picked several suitable dresses, but Dmitri couldn’t help thinking it was too easy. She hadn’t fought him, hadn’t done anything to exact revenge for his having moved her belongings into his rooms. It made him cagey.
He moved to the small bar set up against the wall and poured himself a second glass of vodka. “She’ll be down shortly. You know how these women are.”
“My Natasha takes hours.” Ivan chuckled. “The woman is as beautiful as they come, but she needs half a day to pretty herself up for company. The logic astounds me.” He stretched long arms and legs and cracked his neck with a loud pop.
His cousin was dangling the conversational thread in front of him, obviously wanting to keep to safer topics, but Dmitri wasn’t interested. He met Ivan’s gaze directly. “Where are the others?” The invitation for tonight had gone out to three men, and it appeared Ivan was the only one who’d bothered to show up. That didn’t bode well. That didn’t bode well at all.
Ivan huffed a sigh and poured himself a drink. “You know how it is, Dima. Things have not been stable for the last few years. Kirill and Sasha blame your missteps. The family back home is considering sending someone to monitor the situation.” He downed the vodka in a single gulp and poured more. “It is a good thing you have married this O’Malley woman and put some of that to rest. A very good thing.”
Dmitri had to work to keep any expression off his face. He’d known the extended family had lost confidence in him, but he hadn’t realized how far it’d gone. If he read the situation right, the only reason Ivan had shown up was to honor their friendship. If Dmitri was anyone else, Ivan would have passed on the invitation as well. Fuck.
It wasn’t the end. He still had time to fix things. The wedding reception would go a long way toward repairing the hits his reputation had taken—especially if the O’Malleys showed up. Even if they were furious, their presence would demonstrate that he had the upper hand.
The Eldridges were a different story altogether. He had to take decisive action there, and he had to do it as soon as possible. Damage control. Mikhail hadn’t gotten any satisfying answers about the package in Dmitri’s office. For all intents and purposes, it had appeared there magically without assistance.
Which meant he had a traitor.
The door leading deep into the house opened. Dmitri’s relief died a terrible death as Keira stepped into the room. She wore…It took every single ounce of control he had to keep his expression neutral. He didn’t have a damn bit left for words, and wouldn’t have been able to find them in any case. Her lips were the same color red that they’d been the first night he met her—the same night she’d rolled that decadent body against his and offered to fuck him…and then lifted his wallet and his watch. Her newly dark hair had been pinned back in some artful just-fucked look.
And the dress.
It covered her from neck to wrists to floor, except a diamond-shaped cutout that stretched from the bottom of the collar—and the thick neckline bracketing her throat couldn’t be termed anything but a collar—to just above her belly button. That cutout alone wouldn’t be enough to stop him in his tracks. The fact that the dress was completely transparent did. The smaller diamond pattern carved out of the fabric did nothing to hide her rosy nipples or the fact that she was wearing black panties.
She looked like a caged wild thing—proud and furious and determined to punish him if given half a chance.
They stared at each other for the space of a single breath. Then her red, red lips curved into a small smile. “Hello, husband.”
Ivan shifted, and reality slammed into Dmitri. This man might be as close to a friend as Dmitri allowed himself—might be family—but he still couldn’t guarantee that Ivan wouldn’t do something to damage his power base. If Dmitri fell, it would open up a space for an ambitious man, and Ivan and the others were nothing if not ambitious.
He crossed to his treacherous wife and took her hand. This close, he could hear the dress slither as she moved, the beading in the pattern making it cling to her body. “You’re playing with fire.”
“Maybe I like the burn.” Her smile never wavered, even as her attention shifted over his shoulder to where Ivan watched them avidly.
“Mmm.” He leaned closer to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “And maybe I am going to cut that fucking dress off you tonight.”
“Ah-ah, Russian. You’re showing your beast. Rein it in.” Her grin brightened, and she lifted her voice. “Who is this delightful creature? Sir, you look like the proverbial Russian bear that I hear wanders Siberia.”
It was official. He was going to kill her. The little rebenok had known if she showed up late, she’d tie his hands. He couldn’t drag her out of the room to change without broadcasting the fact that he didn’t control his wife. This man might be a friend, but he’d take that information back to the men he answered to, and it would be nothing good for Dmitri. And even if Ivan didn’t stab him in the back, he would tell Kirill and Sasha, and they’d made their alliances clear.
The only course of action was to move through the meeting while acting as if he wasn’t torn between wanting to turn her over his knee and wanting to fuck her against the wall. Both. I want both. And, damn her, Keira knew it.
Ivan walked over, his bushy eyebrows raised. “Charming creature, aren’t you?” He took her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckle for a full three seconds too long. “I am desperately in love with my Natasha, but if I were a younger man and single, I would steal you away, married to my cousin or no.”
“It seems I’m not the only one who’s charming.” Her laugh boomed out, sounding happy. Keira cast a glance over him that was just shy of an invitation, but then shook her head in mock sadness. “But I’m afraid it wouldn’t happen. My Dmitri keeps me more than satisfied.”
My Dmitri.
It was an act, but the words still rang through him. If he had his way, his wife would have already been satisfied several times over today, but the only person who knew it hadn’t happened—wouldn’t happen—was Keira.
“My Natasha would like you, I think.” Ivan gave Dmitri a lingering look.
“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
He transferred that look to Keira. “You should. Excuse me.” He headed back to the bar and poured himself a double.
The night was going nowhere fast. Dmitri had expected some rebellious act, but this was…something else altogether. Keira allowed him to take her hand, her dress shifting around her. Her pale skin shone beneath the black beading, and his attention was drawn back to her nipples again and again.
“See something you like?” she murmured.
Yes. He hated it, but he also fucking loved that dress. He wanted her to wear it for him at a private dinner, where he could touch her, could drink in the sight of her, without eyes on them. The fact that there were eyes on them—on her—had him speaking without intending to. “You look like a high-class sex worker.”
“Isn’t that exactly what I am?” Her smile never wavered, and she didn’t look at him. “You might not have paid in cash, but you bought me all the same.” With that, she expertly detached her hand from his and moved to perch on the single chair next to the fireplace. “Ivan, you must tell me how you met my darling husband.” Her hazel eyes twinkled, and he almost believed the lie in every line of her body. “I’m sure you have some hair-raising stories to share from his formative years.”