Power Play: A Romance Collection

by Lauren Landish

  The waiter magically appears, and I bite my tongue as Nathan orders for me, reminding myself that he’s playing a part too. At least Nathan’s choices sound delicious, although we are in one of those places that could take shoe leather and make it taste good.

  Before Nathan can begin discussions about their deal, Nikolai jumps in with a question. “How did you two meet?”

  Shit.

  My eyes flash to Maritziana, remembering that I told her it was my first time with Mostest Hostesses and wondering if she’s going to say anything. Our eyes hold as Nathan explains, but her brows rise incrementally with his every word.

  “At a local gala. Charity for the arts type deal. Kitty is rather well-versed in everything artistic.”

  When Nathan places his hand on my thigh, I break the staredown with Maritziana first, praying she’ll keep her mouth shut and turning to offer him a sweet smile.

  Nikolai’s laugh is brash. “Oh, I’d hoped you might be able to direct me to one of the sex clubs in your fair city.” He pushes his fingers into Maritziana’s hair, gripping her neck, and the smile she offers him is pure sex. “I’ve heard many times that New York is one of those cities where you can get anything you want.”

  “I’m sure you are well aware of the many things New York City has to offer. As I explained before, Kitty and I typically prefer discretion.” Nathan’s request to let the kinky talk go is explicit. “Perhaps we could discuss business instead? I trust you’ve had an opportunity to analyze the sample you took?”

  Nikolai grins like a shark that smells blood in the water. “Da, I have. But I wish to take you up on your previous offer. Merriment first, business later.” Nikolai’s look is shrewd, communicating clearly that he knows he holds the upper hand here.

  Nathan’s jaw flexes as he grits his teeth. “Of course.”

  His deference is cold but needed, considering the situation.

  Nikolai turns to me, and I force myself to stay steady, fighting the urge to shrink under his hard gaze. “Kitty, so you are a patron of the arts?”

  As we discussed previously, I look to Nathan, silently asking permission to speak. When he dips his chin ever so slightly, I respond.

  “Yes, Mr. Romanov. I rather enjoy the beauty of the various types of artistic endeavors. In fact, Nathan took me to the MoMA just this week. It was rather special.”

  The look Nathan and I share is one of connection, the evening at the museum playing out in both of our minds. The heat of the kiss flares to life in my mind once again, and I find it easier to let myself slip into the fantasy of tonight’s deception.

  “Perhaps I should make time to visit.” Nikolai’s words interrupt our moment, and I turn back to see him watching us warily, his tumbler of vodka frozen mid-air as he takes in the intimacy Nathan and I were sharing with the intense look.

  “You should. It’s quite remarkable,” I offer encouragingly.

  Dinner continues, the four of us actually enjoying the food. But no matter how many times Nathan attempts to redirect the conversation to gaining access to the caves and the diamonds, Nikolai bluntly refuses to discuss it.

  At first, I think it’s because Maritziana is here. The more he does, however, the more I feel like a bug under Nikolai’s microscope as he asks questions, makes comments, and watches, rapt for each answer and reaction.

  Nathan deflects the inquiries as much as he can, constantly touching me to reassure me that he has it under control. Nikolai’s questions even give us an opportunity to toss out some of the info we learned about one another during our twenty questions conversation, proving that Nathan was right to insist that we prepare for dinner.

  Though it is rather awkward, it gives me a sense of being on the same team as Nathan, both of us elegantly fighting a mutual foe as we answer questions, sometimes even for each other, though I watch myself, working to maintain some degree of deferential submission as warranted by our cover story.

  But the chemistry igniting between Nathan and me as we verbally play house is real. His touches move from his hand on my knee to higher along my thigh. My core clenches when his heated stare reaches into my soul as he talks about the first time he saw me.

  “I thought she was the most beautiful creature in the room.” And while I know he’s not talking about our bullshit cover story but just a few days ago, it feels real, so very real.

  As we nibble dessert, Nathan reaches out to brush a bit of whipped cream from my lip. At first, I think he’s going to offer his finger to me, but with the slightest lift of his lips, he sucks the cream from his finger himself.

  “Delicious.”

  Everyone at the table can tell he’s not talking about the vanilla-infused whipped cream the chef is known for.

  Nikolai’s language has become coarser over the evening, not exactly vulgar but decidedly full of innuendos about Nathan and me. But with this, he crosses a line.

  “Must be nice to have a pet that never says no, da? Anytime you want it, she just spreads her legs for you?”

  He turns from Nathan to me, eyes bright, and I mentally try to tally how many vodkas he’s had while we’ve eaten. “If he told you to suck him right now, you’d do it.”

  He sounds delighted, though his words are harsh, even vaguely threatening, like he’s hoping I’ll put on a show for him on demand.

  Nathan pulls me to his side, scooting my chair loudly in the fancy dining room, and growls at Nikolai. His face is etched in stony rage, and it’s only the honest purity of his fire that stops me from doing something stupid and throwing what remains of my drink in Nikolai’s face. Nathan’s not just offended. He’s genuinely pissed.

  “It is not her job to mindlessly service me. It is my responsibility to care for her appropriately so that she willingly gives in to me. I have had to earn and deserve her trust so that she allows me any degree of control over her. It is much more nuanced than simply telling a dog to sit.”

  His response is cold, even clinical, but somehow, his thoughtfulness in explaining how he takes care of me lights me up inside. It’s not even a true representation of the depth of whatever relationship we’re developing, but suddenly, it feels like it could be. Like it’s as much of a promise as his words of protection in the car. And I have felt safe with him tonight, so perhaps we could grow into a relationship like he’s describing. I’ve never wanted that before, but in this moment, I so do.

  Nikolai sits back, rolling his eyes. “Fancy words. But the end result is still the same. Her on her knees. Da?” His grin is wicked.

  I swallow, asking Nathan tightly, “May I be excused, please?”

  “Of course, Kitty.” Nathan gives me permission, but his eyes never leave Nikolai as they engage in some dick measuring power struggle.

  I rise, and Maritziana does the same. “Me too. I need to powder my nose.”

  Nikolai breaks eye contact with Nathan to give Maritziana a sharp look. “You are excused, Mari. But no powder.”

  The tension between them pulls tight, and I’m confused for an instant before I remember just what Nikolai’s mafia does. It’s then that I realize perhaps Maritziana didn’t mean she intended to touch up her makeup but perhaps intended some other type of nose powdering.

  We walk to the ladies’ room together, both closing the door as we take care of business. But as we approach the sink, I can feel her eyes on me. Drying my hands on a soft cloth, I give her my full attention.

  “I was surprised to see you here tonight. Didn’t realize you’d even talked to Nikolai at the party,” I pry.

  She flicks her hair back, obviously proud of herself. “I didn’t. But I talked to some of his men. And I made sure they had my number if they needed company while they’re in town. I went to a club appearance a couple of nights ago and Nik asked me to come to dinner.”

  Her smile is brilliant and wide, like an invitation to dinner is a winning lottery ticket. But I can’t help but warn her off a bit. “Be careful with him. He’s a dangerous man.”

  Her laughter tinkl
es against the tile, bouncing back to us. But then she scoffs. “You are soft, Kitty. Like most Americans. You think love is like a fairy tale, where Prince Charming rides in as a white knight and whisks you to a castle for a happily ever after. Life is not like that.”

  I frown. “You don’t think so?”

  It’s not that I disagree with her that life isn’t like that. I know from my own upbringing that she’s right, but I want to press her for more to see what the hell is going on here tonight. Because it feels like there’s more than Nikolai wanting to simply test Nathan and me. I get the feeling this test is almost entirely about Nathan and has very little to do with me at all.

  Her eyes take on a haunted look as she shakes her head. “In my home country, little girls do not dream of a life like that. They hope for stability and safety, not luxury but a life of safe comfort. I’m one of the lucky ones, to get to come to America.”

  She turns to the mirror, slicking a fresh coat of red along her lips. “Nik is scary, but it is a good scary. A girl is safe with him as long as she makes sure she is safe from him. And I am.”

  She seems certain, but I can’t help but challenge her. “You think you’re safe from him. Do you know who he is? What he is?”

  She looks at me like I’m stupid, then offers a patronizing pout. “Of course I know who Nikolai Romanov is. He is a prince in my country, well on his way to becoming a king. And by his side, I will be his queen. Can I tell you a secret?”

  I bob my head, and she whispers. “I have that man wrapped around my little finger. But just as importantly, I am wrapped around his as well. It may not be your American fairy tale, but it is a Russian one. I know exactly what I’m getting into and have my eyes wide open. My question is, do you know what you’re getting into with Nathan?”

  I feel like I do, but I’m interested to hear her take on the whole situation because I’m in deep waters and working hard to keep kicking. “What do you mean?”

  Her nonchalance is maddening, as if my life isn’t depending on how tonight’s dinner goes down. “Nik does not tell me such things. It is not my place, but Nathan is a powerful man. Where Nik uses his power like a club, wildly swinging this way and that, Nathan is much defter. He’s dangerous, as you said. But in a sneaky, stab you in the back with his manipulations way. He is a knife fighter, engaged in a battle before you’re even aware one is coming, and each slash is so sharp and clean, you don’t feel them—until you bleed to death from the culmination of his every cut. Just . . . be careful, Kitty.”

  I want to dismiss her dark imagery, focus on how open Nathan has been with me, even when he knew I’d lied about my name. I want to think about how he makes me feel alive and sparkly and like he could consume my body with just his kiss.

  And I do think of those things. But there’s a tiny seed of doubt, an inkling that maybe I’m in over my head with this whole situation.

  So I silently nod.

  The walk back to the table lets the seed take root, but when I see Nathan’s smile and the way he stands and pulls my chair out for me, it squashes the question ever so slightly. And his arm around my shoulders gives me even more certainty that we’re going to be okay.

  Tonight and maybe even longer if my ‘silly American fairy tale’ comes true.

  Chapter 14

  Nathan

  My Jaguar slips along the road, easily cutting through the dark. And though my knuckles are near-white with how tightly I’m squeezing the steering wheel, I am totally in control. Of the car, at least. Everything else is debatable. I wish I’d been able to control the conversation as readily, been able to avoid Nikolai’s shit as easily tonight.

  Several times, I’d wanted to tell him to shut the fuck up as he made lewd comments and pried for details he had no business knowing about Emma and me. More than once, I imagined smashing my fist against his face . . . or worse, ridding the world of his existence. The man’s a pig, and I’d be doing everyone a favor.

  “Thank you for going through all this to protect me. I’m sorry we didn’t get the agreement you wanted from Nikolai,” Emma offers, seeing my tension.

  I drum my fingers on the steering wheel, nodding tersely. “Nikolai is a smart man. For all his jumpiness, he runs his family business well. I suspect he came in to our dinner tonight with an agenda, same as me. I had to let his play out before he would allow my questions.”

  Her eyes flash and a smile spreads across her mouth. “You got permission?”

  I sigh. “No. Not yet. But while you and Maritziana were in the restroom, Nikolai seemed more inclined to discuss it at least. He complimented the sample I gave him, said that the decision is pending though.”

  It’d been a bit of a surprise that Nikolai had shared that he wasn’t making the call himself but was following up with his father. Nikolai runs so much of the family mafia himself these days that I’d hoped to keep this between the two of us.

  Nikolai is a good businessman, sees the benefit in working together on both sides of the law with a variety of shot callers. But his father is old-school, insular, and believes that the family is everything to the point of eschewing outsiders outright. It doesn’t bode well for me, but I don’t tell Emma that.

  “But more importantly, he believed everything about us,” I add, steering the conversation back toward safer waters. “I’m calling it a success on that front alone. And now that that’s done, or at least the immediate threat is no longer hanging over our heads, I can’t wait to get you alone.”

  I smile at her, letting the flirtatiousness of the evening come back into my tone. Though it’d been a part of our cover, the touches and eye fucking were based on something much more real. So my honest desire is totally authentic, and Emma’s response is instant, her cheeks pinkening and her breath hitching. But her smile is pure devilment as she winks and says, “Yes, sir!”

  Her following giggle makes me smile too, but when I lay my hand on her thigh, all laughter stops. The time for laughter, for teasing, is over . . . and so is the time for pretending that this is just an act for her safety.

  Her knees spread ever so slightly, giving me greater access, and I take advantage, running my fingertips up the soft skin of her inner thigh. With one hand on the wheel and one hand inching closer to her heat, I struggle to stay focused enough to keep us on the road when all I want to do is give her my undivided attention.

  “Move your skirt for me. Let me see you.”

  There’s no room for argument in my command, though we’ve only been playing at her giving me this control. But play time’s finished, and we both know it.

  She looks out the window, but only the night reflects back, no headlights around us. And with a shy press of her lips, she lifts her hips against the seatbelt, shimmying her skirt up before sitting back down. Her bare ass against the leather seats gives me all sorts of filthy thoughts, as does the way the seatbelt is restraining her. It’s normally so mundane, but as her hips writhe, the strap limits her sexily, pressing into her soft skin and highlighting her curves.

  Sliding my hand back up her thigh, I tease along the edge of her panties, brushing the line where silk meets skin. I stay on the edge of where we both want to be for a breath, teasing us both as she grips her thighs, keeping her hands out of my way. Unrelenting, I trace her mound through her panties, feeling the wetness already drenching through and leaving no doubt that she wants this.

  I cup her pussy, grinding my palm against her clit as I press the pedal ever closer to the floorboard and the speedometer creeps even higher. We’re on the highway now, not much around . . . which is good for both of us.

  “Do you think I can make you come before we even get home, kitty?” The pet name is intentional, not the lie she told me initially but a morph of it into an endearment.

  Her gasp is all the answer I need, and I begin to stroke her through the silk, letting the slip of it add to the sensation of my fingers swirling over her. Faster than I would’ve dreamed, Emma moans my name.

  “Nathan—” />
  “Tell me, Emma. Are you going to come for me before I even get you undressed? Such a needy little responsive pussy,” I say, my fingers swirling faster and faster.

  Her hands fly to my arm, holding on for dear life and holding me to her. Her pink nails dig into me even through the fabric of my suit. “Oh, my God, Nathan. I’m coming. I’m—”

  Her mouth opens in a silent scream, her eyes rolling back in her head just as we reach my home. I slam on the brake and throw the Jag in park. The jolting stop bounces her out of her seat ever so slightly, and her back curves around my arm, her hips lifting for more. I help her ride it out, pulling every last bit of pleasure out of her orgasm.

  When she sags, I turn the car off, getting out to stride around to her side. Yanking the door open, I unbuckle her seatbelt and lift her out, carrying her to the house in my arms.

  Inside, the lights are low, just the ambient setting that stays on all night for security, which tells me Grant has gone to bed. Thank fuck because the old man doesn’t need to see what I’m about to do to Emma.

  Setting her to her feet, I spin her in place to grab the zipper along her back. Making quick work of it, her dress falls to her feet and she steps out of it, standing proudly in her bra, panties, and heels.

  I push her forward, glad she catches herself with her palms against the front door as I drop to my knees behind her.

  “I want to taste that orgasm, drink it from your pussy, Emma.” She arches her back for me, granting permission, and I rip the silk from her body to get at her. “Fuck. So pretty and pink. You’re fucking soaked for me, aren’t you?”

  She whimpers, and when I glance up, she’s nodding in agreement.

  The first swipe of my tongue along her slit is like a first taste of sugar, and I’m instantly an addict to her sweet flavor. I lick her over and over, wanting every drop and then circling and sucking her clit to get her body to pump out more for me.