Inside, it was all snow-white tablecloths and hushed voices. Luka already had a table and guided me over to it, his hand on the small of my back. The red dress was made of fairly thick fabric but, suddenly, it seemed to barely be there at all.
When we sat, Luka said to the waiter in Russian, “She will need a menu in English.”
That was when I realized he had no idea I spoke or read Russian. That could be useful. Maybe he’d say something important about the arms deal, right in front of me, thinking I wouldn’t understand. So I tilted my head curiously and raised my eyebrows.
“I said you’ll need a menu in English,” he repeated in English, and I nodded and smiled.
We ordered: duck, for me, exquisitely cooked and drenched in rich sauce. For him, a rack of lamb. He cut into it, the juices running pink. “Why come on vacation alone?” he asked, his accent caressing each syllable.
I’d been drilled by Adam before I left Virginia. Keep as close to the truth as possible, he’d said. Good advice...but what do you do when your past is something you don’t share with anyone? “I thought I’d meet more people,” I lied. “I thought, if I came with friends, I’d just wind up talking to them the whole time.”
He nodded and chewed and then said, “Liar.”
The duck turned to tasteless mush in my mouth.
He looked me right in the eye. “I can tell when you’re lying to me, Arianna.”
Did he know?! I was in a public place, but this was Moscow, where money and power can buy anything. He could have me down the steps and bundled into his car in seconds, even kicking and screaming.
“Tell me why you’re really alone,” he said.
My mind was whirling. Why didn’t I listen to Roberta? He knows! He’s toying with me! I didn’t know whether to break and run and try to make it to the door or brazen it out or—
I snapped and told the truth. “I find it hard to connect with people,” I blurted.
The faintest hint of a smile crossed his lips. “That’s why you’re alone? Not just now but...always?”
I swallowed. “Yes.”
He smiled a slow smile. “That wasn’t so difficult, was it?”
I relaxed a tiny amount. He did want to find out the truth about me...but not what I did for a living. About me. The parts of Arianna Ross that were the same as Arianna Scott. In theory, that was a relief. But the thought of that stuff coming out, of having to relive the reasons why I was messed up—that wasn’t much less frightening.
“Are you always this...invasive with people?” I asked.
He didn’t even flinch. “I don’t like people lying to me.”
And then I realized the edge of his foot was against mine, under the table, the hard leather of his shoe pressed against the soft calfskin of my boot. It started to slide up, a firm caress, up the inside of my shin and then up the side of my calf. I stiffened in my seat as it left the boot and rasped against the nylon of my stocking. He rested there for a moment, his toe circling the side of my knee, and I caught my breath. “Do you always do this, as well, with women you’ve just met?”
“I’ve met you twice, now, Arianna. And we’ve already been much closer than this.”
The sound of my name on his lips did something strange to me. He’s pure ice, Roberta had warned me. But, behind those cold blue eyes, I thought I could detect something else. Something hotter than the core of a volcano, ready to burn us both. I recognized it, because I could feel the same thing building inside me.
“Why were you so rude to that guy at the park?” I asked. “He hadn’t done anything.”
Luka’s eyes blazed a little hotter. ‘He wanted to.”
“But why so rude? You just glared at him.”
“I’m not a very nice person, Arianna.”
“You’re nice to me.”
“You have something I want.”
My breath caught in my chest. “What?”
His toe slid higher up my leg. He was firm, not just brushing but pressing, kneading the soft flesh. It was a prelude to sex, showing me how he wanted to touch me with his hands. Every inch brought a new wave of pleasure, and they were merging and building, already dangerously strong. I gripped the table with one hand.
Hidden by the tablecloth, his foot angled and slid higher and higher, until it was past the tops of my stockings, right up between my thighs. Only my closed legs stopped him from sliding higher.
He looked at me from beneath half-closed eyelids.
“I—” I flushed. “No—God, we’ve only just met!” I looked around me. “There are people!” I hissed.
He waited until I’d gotten my objections out, and then he gave me the same look again. A low, smoldering gaze that felt as if it was burning my panties right off.
The heat was swirling and thickening inside me, sucking in power like a cyclone. I looked back at him helplessly, but he wasn’t going to show me any mercy.
I took a deep breath...and opened my legs.
He smiled. And immediately, his foot was pushing up between my thighs, the toe of his shoe against the front of my panties. I’d never been touched by anything like that before. Fingers, a tongue...even a cock is throbbing and alive and has some give in it. But this was leather and rubber, hard and brutal, rubbing up and down against my lips. Lips that were already swollen and—God—wet.
This was how sex with him would be. Hard and strong and with a hint of danger, but all aimed at giving me pleasure. I stared across the table at him, my mouth slightly open, and panted as he rubbed me in slow, precise strokes exactly where I needed it. My ass was clenching and moving in my seat, both hands gripping the table, now.
“I like you, Arianna,” he said. “We can have fun together. Don’t you want to have fun?”
I realized that he wasn’t playing around. He wasn’t just going to rub me a little and then let me down again—he was actually planning to make me climax, right there in public. The heat coiled tight, twisting and thrashing like a living thing, and I squirmed helplessly in my seat. I was close, rushing towards it unstoppably fast. Above the table, I was just about demure. Beneath the tablecloth, my dress was rucked up around my hips and his thick, muscled leg was nestled obscenely between my thighs.
This is crazy! We’ve only just met!
Except we hadn’t, had we? I’d been listening to his calls, fantasizing about him, dreaming about him. My body had been reacting to him for months.
I tried to speak—I’m not sure whether I was going to beg him to back off, or to keep going. But it was already too late. The heat twisted and knotted and then suddenly released and I had to squeeze my eyes shut and fight to stop myself from screaming. The orgasm tore through me, rippling outward in waves, and I bucked and shuddered in my seat, heaving air through my nose. I managed to not cry out, but I made a low moan, deep in my throat, that made a man on the next table turn and stare.
I slowly opened my eyes. I was breathing hard and Luka still had his foot jammed between my thighs. I stared at him, utterly lost.
“Tonight,” he said, “You’ll come out with me. And I’ll get to know you much, much better.”