I walked up to her and landed a kiss on her cheek. “Stay safe.”
The older women paused in shock. It was funny that my being in a towel hadn’t knocked them off guard. It was the kiss—the display of affection—that had confused them.
Don’t worry, ladies. I’m confused too.
Six
Maxwell
I heard the Russian visit Em, but I didn’t see it.
I understood it from her moans rising in the hallway. Whatever he did to her, he did it well. And I wanted to hate him for it, but I was happy that she was finally seeing sex as more than something toxic and deadly.
Sometimes I wanted her so bad, I couldn’t go to sleep. Instead, I stayed up, stared at the ceiling, and thought about what we could’ve been, if my father hadn’t hurt her.
Other times I felt bad for Em. Dad damaged something in her. Pleasure had been as exciting to her as going to the bathroom. At least, how she’d treated it. She’d get an urge in the month, find some guy on Tinder, and fuck him. She never talked to him again, and that was if the guy was lucky. If he wasn’t, I’d clean his dead body up the next morning.
Now she acted like a woman that was in love—in the heat of passion. Those moans made me envious.
If I was not fucking her, then I would’ve at least have liked to fuck somebody. Didn’t I deserve some pussy too? Not from Em, of course, but from somebody.
After the noise of their sex ended, I changed into my tux. I should’ve jacked off in the shower. God knew that I yearned too. Anybody could’ve been my motivation to stroke my dick. Em’s moans had damn sure inspired my horniness, and then Valentina sneaking in my room and flirting caused her to flash in my mind too.
Why can’t my dick get hard with safe women? Valentina is just as much of a no as Em.
For one thing, it was clear that she hid things. I had to stay on my toes with Valentina before she had me in some bullshit.
Like tonight. What the fuck is she going to do? And what’s up with the kid’s picture book?
I opened my bedroom door. Some big Russian stood by it. He nodded at me with a straight expression.
I eyed him and drooled at his gun. “You’re my guard?”
He nodded again.
“Okay.” I left, and he followed me.
I could get used to this. Someone watching my back, instead of constantly watching others.
He trailed me like I was a star. When we passed servants, they gestured and whispered. When we hit the ballroom, many of the hundreds of guests hushed and turned our way.
We remained in the doorway as I scanned the place, searching for Xavier or Em.
Damn.
Kazimir’s uncle sure loved a party. It wasn’t a feast; it was a vanity affair. Everyone looked like they slept on boatloads of money. Diamonds glittered among gold. On the dance floor, designer gowns twirled among expensive tuxes.
A sweet perfume hit my nostrils. I turned in the direction.
Valentina’s lovely face greeted my eyes. “Do you like your tuxedo?
Oleg got to her right and snorted.
Ignoring him, I nodded. “I love it. Did you pick it out?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t trust Kazimir to do it. He’s not into style.”
I thought about the way Em moaned hours ago. “Yeah. I can tell he’s into other things.”
That blonde hair hung in lovely curls tonight. That urge came again, the one that made me want to grab a fistful of hair, wrap my finger around it, and pump my cock into her.
I directed my gaze down the gown. It was expensive and designed to make men fall to their knees. Her gaze met mine. The air left my lungs and all my blood rushed to my cock.
Besides Em, I’d never seen a woman so perfect and so utterly dangerous. Violence and sex radiated from her skin. I inhaled the air, needing to suck her in.
There was something about how flawlessly she was put together that made me want to throw her on the ballroom floor and fuck her right there. Slam my cock into that sweet pussy and make her ass moan loud right in front of her uncle and brother. How sexy she would look, dirty and sweaty and dripping with my cum.
She parted her lips as if she saw every dirty thought flashing through my head. “Why are you staring at me this time?”
I winked. “Same reason. I’m still wondering how you sound, when you moan.”
Oleg stretched his neck as if he was gearing up to fight me.
I didn’t fear the man. Sure, he could take me, but I’d fuck him up on the way down to the floor. He’d be missing something by the next day—his life, a leg, maybe even an eye.
But that was besides the fact. Oleg wouldn’t touch me because it would piss off Em which would anger Kazimir.
This isn’t Chinatown. This is something else. Yes. We’ll have to call this shit Prague.
“Have a good evening, Valentina.” I nodded at her and prepared to leave.
“No.”
I stopped. “No?”
She pointed to a table far in the center and then curled her arm around mine. “You’ll be eating with me. We’re over there, right by the stage.”
“Will there be a performance?”
“There always is. Probably puppets.”
“O-kay.” I led her that way, hoping that Em and Xavier would be eating there too. The whole point of Chinatown was the fact that I could disappear and do what I want. Everyone was supposed to be focused on Em, but things weren’t turning out that way.
The Russian had given me a bodyguard like I was a fucking national official. Now, his gorgeous sister was on my arm. And she was a thing of beauty. Every man paused at what they were doing and gave her a hungry glance.
I was sure people would be wondering who I was by the end of the night.
As we walked forward, she leaned closer to me, “You looked into the bag. I can tell.”
“That’s a good talent to have.”
“You don’t deny it?”
“It wouldn’t matter. You’re not mad I looked.”
“Any questions?”
“Why the picture book?”
She widened her eyes. Humor lay within her lids, although she kept a straight face. “That was for my daughter. I was multitasking.”
“How many kids do you have?”
“Just one.” She stopped us near the center of the room. We were barely ten feet from the table. She turned to Oleg. “Show him Natalya.”
Surprisingly, the scowl left Oleg’s face. He dug his fat hand into his jacket pocket, pulled out his phone, and showed his lock screen. On the phone, he held a tiny baby with blond curls. It was the oddest image, a man hard and built like a mountain holding such a small and soft child.
Oleg spoke with a rough accent. “I am the godfather.”
I nodded.
Valentina motioned for us to walk on. “She’s going to like the story about Vasilisa. Don’t you think?”
“The images of Baba Yaga might scare her.”
She grinned. “No, there’s no fear in her DNA.”
“Who’s the father?”
Her body tensed as we arrived at the table. She turned to me with a frown and waited by her chair. “No one ever asks me that. You should fall in line.”
“No one ever asks you who the baby daddy is?”