Chapter 10: Devil’s Lair: Chapter 10

If there was any doubt in my mind that I’m going to enjoy unraveling the mystery that is Chloe, it’s gone by the time Pavel brings out dessert. Everything about her fascinates me, from the mixture of truth and lies falling so easily from her lips to the way she delicately and politely devours enough food to feed two NFL linebackers. And underneath my fascination is a primal attraction more powerful than anything I’ve experienced. I’ve never wanted a woman this much, and with so little provocation. She’s not flirting, not doing anything to get my attention, yet from the moment I took my seat across from her, I’ve been hard, the sight of her plush lips closing around a fork turning me on more than the most erotic strip show in Moscow.

Even talking about Ksenia and the way she fucked me over with Slava couldn’t cool the fire burning inside me.

“This has to be the most delicious thing I’ve ever had,” Chloe says after trying a forkful of the Napoleon dessert, and I murmur my agreement, though I can barely taste the multilayered puff-pastry cake. My mind is occupied by how she will taste and feel when I take her to bed.

I have a feeling my son’s new tutor will be the most delicious thing I’ve ever had.

“Don’t, Kolya,” Alina says quietly in Russian when Chloe turns to Slava and begins teaching him the English word for cake. “Please, I beg you, leave her be.”

I glance at my sister in irritation. “I’m not going to force her.” That’s not my MO, and besides, after watching the girl sneak glances at me for the past hour, I’m even more sure this attraction goes both ways.

She’ll be mine. It’s only a matter of time.

“I’m beginning to think you may be worse than he was,” Alina says in a low voice. “At least he tried to justify it with bullshit excuses. But you don’t even try, do you? You just do whatever the fuck you want, regardless of who gets hurt in the process.”

“That’s right.” I give her a hard smile. “And you’ll do well to remember that.”

If my sister thinks that comparing me to our father is going to change anything, she couldn’t be more wrong. I know I’m like him. I always have been—which is why I never intended to have children.

Our little exchange in Russian catches Chloe’s attention, and her eyes meet mine as she glances over at me. Immediately, she looks away, but not before I see her smooth throat move in a nervous swallow as her tongue flicks out to moisten her bottom lip.

Oh, yes, she’s attracted to me. Attracted and worried about that fact.

I push away my half-eaten dessert and pick up my cup of tea to take a long sip. Catching her gaze again, I set the cup down and give her a slow, deliberate smile. “So, what did you think of your first Russian meal, Chloe?”

“It was amazing.” Her voice is a touch breathless. “Pavel is a wonderful cook.”

I let my smile deepen. “He is, isn’t he?” He’s even more skilled at other things, like knifework, but I’m not about to tell her that. She’s already putting two and two together and coming up with four. I could see the way she reacted when I mentioned the guards. She suspects we’re not just a wealthy family, and that makes her almost as nervous as her attraction to me.

I wonder if it’s the natural wariness of a sheltered civilian, or if there’s something more to it… like whatever secrets she’s trying to hide.

The smart thing, the prudent thing, would’ve been to uncover those secrets before hiring her, but that would’ve taken time, and I didn’t want to chance her slipping away and disappearing. Besides, after observing her throughout the meal, I’m even more convinced she doesn’t pose a physical threat to my family. The way she snatched the knife from Slava betrayed not only her overprotectiveness of the boy but also her lack of skill with a blade. She held the knife like someone who’s never used it as a weapon, either of the offensive or defensive variety, and I doubt that was an act—not when her fear for Slava was entirely real.

She thinks my son, a Molotov, needs to be protected from something as innocuous as a sharp blade.

The inexplicable tightness in my chest returns, and it takes all my strength not to glance at the boy. If I do, it’ll only get worse. Instead, I keep my focus on Chloe and the way her lashes lower in response to my smile, her chest rising and falling in a faster rhythm. Her nipples are hard again, I note with savage satisfaction; whatever bra she’s wearing under her shirt, if any, is quite revealing.

I can’t wait to see her in a nice designer dress, her slender shoulders bared. Something slinky and cream-colored, to highlight the warm hue of her skin. She’ll put it on for me before dinner, and I’ll spend the entire meal fantasizing how I’ll rip it off her later that night—not that I need her dressed in any particular way for those fantasies to manifest in my mind.

The cheap T-shirt and jeans she’s wearing work for that purpose just fine.

“You should feel free to go to bed, Chloe,” Alina says when Pavel brings out a tray with digestifs, then helps Slava out of his chair and takes him upstairs to get him ready for bed. “Don’t feel compelled to stay here with us. I’m sure you’re tired after such a long day.”

“And I’m sure she can stay for a drink,” I say before Chloe can do more than give Alina a grateful smile. There’s no way I’m letting the girl escape so quickly. “In fact,” I continue, giving my sister a hard look, “weren’t you saying you’re tired? Maybe you should join Pavel in reading Slava a bedtime story and head to bed early yourself.”

Alina wants to argue with me, I can see it, but even she knows it’s not a good idea to push me further right now. She’s become bolder since we left Moscow, freer with her sharp tongue. She thinks that because I temporarily handed over the reins to our brothers, I’ve softened, but she couldn’t be more wrong.

The beast inside me is alive and well… and focused on a sweet new quarry.

“All right,” she says after a tense moment. “In that case, good night. Enjoy your drink.”

She gets up, and Chloe follows her example. “I think I will—”

“Sit,” I say with a commanding gesture, and the girl sinks back down, blinking like a startled fawn as Alina strolls away with one final glare in my direction.

I wait until she’s gone before gracing my quarry with a smile. “So tell me, Chloe…” I reach for the decanters on the tray. “Do you prefer cognac, brandy, or whiskey for your digestif?”