by Eve Black
“Yeah, but they don’t know that. And even if they did, they probably would say the same thing.” Milos let out a slow, heavy breath. “Lyuba is kicking up a lot of hornets. She actually pulled the Donovan Innovations deal because the guy refused to take her to dinner.”
Anger bled into his voice. In Russian, he blurted, “The hell you say!” Casting a quick glance to Mariana, he noticed that she’d flinched—more than likely at the tone and volume of his voice.
“The guy is married, Vitali. But that didn’t matter to her. She is on a rampage—and I think you know why.”
He might.
“Did anyone tell her about my business in Moscow? I left strict instructions to keep her out of it. I didn’t want to deal with her drama while I was getting to know Mariana.” The truth was, he should have fired Lyuba years ago, but…well, he’d let his guilt over their breakup sway his decision.
Damn his guilt. And damn Lyuba for putting him in this position.
“Shit,” he barked, already feeling the tension robbing him of his bliss—bliss Mariana had brought with her body, her laughter, and her—just her.
Just then, a heavy, familiar voice slithered in his head; “You’re pussy-whipped, Vitali. What kind of man lets a woman rule him for two years and then sinks her claws into him once he’s had a taste of her sex?” A man like him, apparently.
Tired of the whirling, clashing, upheaval of disparate emotions, he steeled his resolve to put his business ahead of his cock. “Fine. I’ll meet you in Kuala Lumpur in 12 hours.”
“Right,” Milos responded then ended their call. Never one for small talk, that Milos.
Preparing himself to turn to his wife and tell her their honeymoon was cut short by the antics of his ex-lover, Vitali spun on his heel and flashed a smile he hoped would allay any of the anxiety she may had felt during his phone conversation.
“What was that about?” she asked, eyeing him with curiosity mixed with a hint of…jealousy? Where the hell did that come from? He’d spoken in Russian.
Settling back into his seat at the table where he’d been enjoying an omelet before his cell rang and he excused himself to chew Milos out, he stared down at the now cold food.
Grunting, he pushed his plate to the middle of the table and grabbed his mug of coffee. Also cold. Well, damn. He had to fly to Malaysia on an empty stomach.
“That was my VP. He says there is trouble with an acquisition in Asia and that I need to come straighten it out in person.” He rolled his shoulders, tension roiling through his body at the flicker of disappointment clouding her eyes.
An invisible hand punched him in the gut. He rubbed his belly, trying to rid himself of the uncomfortable sensation of failing at something. No matter how small it was. Yeah, he was disappointed, too. Of all the women he’d seduced, dated, and fucked, Mariana was—by far—the most amazing of them all. She was different, and not because she was his wife. There was something about her that put all the other faceless women out of his mind. She was everything he’d never thought to have wrapped up in a spicy, curvy package.
“So…you’re leaving,” she said flatly. She put the mug down on the table and made to push away and stand. “I suppose I can find something to do with myself while you’re gone.” From the strain in her voice, he could tell that she didn’t want to stay, but he didn’t want her to stay, either. She stood up and attempted to hide her pinched expression by turning away.
Nyet! She would not hide from him. He couldn’t make her happy if she hid her unhappiness from him. Why does her happiness matter? You’ve finally gotten her, and now that you’ve slaked two years of lust, you can put her aside and do whatever the hell you want. Make you happy, Vitali. Because no one else gave a fuck about him.
But…he hadn’t slaked his lust yet. Not by a long shot.
“You’re coming with me.” He shot to his feet, coming around their small breakfast table in two strides. In a flash, she was pressed against him, her face tipped up to receive his kiss. It was muscle memory with her. She just knew—by instinct—that he needed to kiss her. He devoured her lips, his tongue lashing against her in a feverish demand for more, and she gave it. Her passion was intoxicating, like a drug he never wanted to kick.
Careful…
With strength drawn up from his heels, he broke the kiss. Breath heaving, he continued. “We are still on our honeymoon, wife. Just because business demands my presence in Malaysia doesn’t mean you can’t have me as well,” Vitali cooed, wiggling his eyebrows.
Her burst of laughter was well worth looking like an idiot.
“I see,” she said between giggles. “I guess I’d better go pack, then.” She sobered immediately, a wariness and uncertainty chilling her once warm gaze. “How long will we be in Malaysia?”
“However long it takes to finish the business, then we will come back here,” he replied, planting his hands on his hips—a defensive gesture he’d picked up at St. Maria’s Orphanage, where looking big, bad, and unintimidated kept you from losing your meal portion.
Mariana stepped back and he immediately felt the loss of her heat, her calming yet arousing presence.
“Why?” And why did he suddenly want to pull away, guarding himself against attack?
As if reading his mind, she stiffened. “The contract stipulates that we have a follow-up marriage ceremony in America, to make this legal in the U.S.”
Running his fingers through his hair, he allowed the anxiety in his chest to spread outward. “Blyad,” he cursed, then reached for her, determined to rescue the intimate moment they’d had only moments before. “We will.” He pulled her into him, grabbing her hips and grinding his quickly growing erection into her belly. His mind wanted him to withdrawal to regroup and figure out why this little slip of a woman could make him crash against the rocks so violently. But his body…it wanted to plunge inside her, feel her clenching around him, hear her scream his name as she came.
Use your brain, Vitali. Never have you allowed anyone to distract you from what needed to be done. He needed to get to Malaysia and keep Lyuba from tanking his business deal. That meant putting Mariana out of his mind and telling his body to calm the hell down.
Grumbling to himself, he dropped his hands and stepped away from the oh so delectable woman.
“Go. Pack. We leave in an hour,” he said, offering her a smile to offset the sharpness in his tone. She narrowed her eyes at him, at once wary again.
Dammit.
“Fine.” She shrugged then turned and stalked toward the bedroom, disappearing into the room where he’d made love to her no more than an hour ago. He pinched the bridge of his nose, a headache building behind his eyes. He had to stop doing that; thinking about Mariana, her luscious body, and all the things he wanted to do to it. Da, he’d wanted to marry her and have her in his bed, but he hadn’t really considered what actually having her would mean. It meant a constant hard-on, a loss of focus, and the sinking feeling that perhaps he was falling into a trap of some kind.
Shaking himself, he followed after her, determined to pack for the trip and put orgasming with Mariana from his mind—at least long enough to fire Lyuba and fix yet another problem in his company.
11
It was her first trip to Malaysia. She should be excited, filled with the thrill of discovering and experiencing a new place and culture. But she wasn’t. She could only watch her husband tip-tapping away at the keys on his laptop, doing whatever business needed to be done before they landed. And ignoring her.
With nothing more than a simple nod since taking off, Vitali had completely put her from his mind. Her—his wife. The woman he’d fucked into oblivion that morning. The woman who couldn’t stop thinking about him, about putting her lips around his cock and making him groan. The woman who was pissed as hell about whoever the hell Lyuba was.
No, she didn’t speak fluent Russian, but she didn’t need to speak Russian to know that some woman named Lyuba was causing problems in Vitali’s business deal. And, from th
e tone of Vitali’s voice, and his carefully chosen words, Mariana would be a fool to think that there wasn’t something between her husband and this woman.
Petya appeared, dressed smartly in her uniform and name tag, handing her a glass of Captain Morgan and Coke, one of her favorite drinks. Mariana sipped it. It tasted like a big, fat burning nothing on her tongue. Jealousy made everything taste like shit. She should know—for years she’d let jealousy fuel her drive to succeed. She wanted what the white couple in the front pew of the church had—the big house, the fancy cars, the tailored clothes. They always looked so happy, always filled with whatever Mariana, the chubby, Latina didn’t have. And so, she worked her ass off in school, earned her law degree, passed the bar, got a job as a public defender, and then kicked serious ass in the higher profile cases. Finally…she was sitting at the top, in her 2,000 square-foot office, wearing her fancy clothes, looking at the keys to that fancy car… And it all felt meaningless. It took something Mia had said in passing to start the downward spiral that had led her to this moment.
“Got a man to share that brand-new bed of yours? Looks kind of empty…”
Mariana had recoiled—and not because of what Mia had said, but rather the truth that had pealed through her skull. That next morning, her penthouse apartment no longer looked like the luxurious prize she’d earned. It looked like the tomb she’d be buried in.
Vitali’s cell rang, pulling Mariana out of her self-imposed mind-fuck. Who was calling?
Shit. Back to the jealousy. The nausea, the chest pains, the uneasy feeling—yeah, jealousy sucked ass—as Mia would say.
And she had no reason to be jealous, not really. She’d only met Vitali three days ago. Yes, they were married, but she had no idea what kind of man she married. That’s one of the major downsides to marrying a complete stranger based on an application supplied to a bridal agency. Vitali could be a womanizing sleaze bag for all she knew. He could have lied about seeing her and wanting her from the very first moment. All of the bedroom acrobatics could have just been him blowing off some steam. She was a fool to think that a man like Vitali would be satisfied with a woman, inexperienced and far from the super model beauties a man like Vitali could get with a snap of his fingers. He could very well plan to keep some on the side for when he got bored with his plus-sized ball-n-chain.
Placing the unfinished drink on the table beside her, she let her gaze roam the cabin. She was in the same private jet she’d arrived in, but this time around, the cabin felt smaller, more suffocating. It was hard to breathe without inhaling the scent of musk and manhood that was Vitali’s signature scent. It was a heady scent that could make her drunk if she let it. And she wouldn’t. She was a strong, professional woman, a woman who had never let men come between her and what she wanted, and what she wanted right now was her husband’s undivided attention.
Still on his cell, Mariana knew she couldn’t just start talking to him, so, she did the next best thing; she unbuckled herself, unbuttoned her sporty black suit coat, and slowly slid it from her shoulders—the whole time, her gaze was riveted to Vitali.
As if sensing her intent, he looked up from his laptop screen for the first time, his gaze flying from her overheated, flushed face to where her hand was poised over the first button in her blouse.
Time to begin the show.
Taking a deep breath to fortify her nerves, she slipped the first button from its hole. Then the next. By the time she’d reached half way down, she could feel the tension wafting from Vitali, and the burning, hotter than lava gaze in his emerald eyes could scorch her…if she weren’t already on fire.
With a flick of his wrist, Vitali closed the lid to his laptop. In the next second, he hung up on whoever it was he was speaking with, and then stowed his cell phone in the pocket beside his seat. The man looked like a starving wolf, his entire face taut, nostrils flared, and lips pulled back from his teeth in a show of predatory menace.
Was it wrong that she liked him like that, that she liked him possessive, hungry—like an alpha beast zeroing in on his prey?
As if sensing their need for privacy, Petya entered the cockpit and closed the door behind her. Vitali unbuckled.
Mariana held her breath and watched, enraptured, as he extended his arm, flipped his hand over, and gestured for her to come to him. A single finger held all the power in the world in that moment.
Since when did you allow any man to beckon you? Since she began falling under his spell, that’s when! Still… Somewhat annoyed at his alpha bullshit she nearly scoffed at him and returned the motion—with a totally different finger. But she needed this, she needed him…and he was finally looking at her. Finally focusing on her. And that alone was empowering.
Maybe he’s actually putting business—and Lyuba—out of his mind.
Holding her breath, she slowly stood, then kicked her heels from her feet. Though the pilot was keeping the plane level, she felt as though she were walking through turbulence. Once she was standing before Vitali, staring down into his now dark green eyes, she realized her mistake: she thought she could tease the beast without consequences, but from the look of ravenous desire on his face, she knew she’d delivered herself up to be devoured.
12
Her body still singing from the amazing sex in the jet seat, Mariana didn’t really mind that Vitali ordered dinner to their room in the sky-high penthouse suite in the hotel in Kuala Lumpur. Every nerve hummed, every blood vein sang, and her heart couldn’t stop lurching every time she thought about riding Vitali’s cock while he nibbled her breasts.
Never in her life did she think she would join the Mile-High Club. She hid a grin and swallowed a giggle at the thought. Vitali chose that moment to stalk back into their bedroom after conferring with their personal butler about where they wanted dinner.
“I asked them to put the meal on the terrace,” he said without preamble, his expression about as empty as her stomach. “I figured that since this is your first time in Malaysia, you’d enjoy eating while looking out over the city.” He pulled off his coat and tossed it over the foot of the bed—it was both intimate and robotic.
His thoughtfulness warmed her, and she smiled. “Thank you. That sounds wonderful.”
He returned her smile, but his expression remained guarded. Her excitement about sharing a meal with her husband and experiencing Malaysia for the first time with him died in a blink. A lodestone dropped into her belly.
“Good.” He pulled a fresh coat from the armoire—someone must’ve unpacked his luggage—and pulled it on over his impressive biceps, covering his hard, broad chest. She almost mewled in distress. “I am expected at a meeting in thirty minutes,” he said off-hand, as if he didn’t just gut her and rob her of the happiness she’d been nursing since her orgasm.
That nausea that had cursed her during the first part of their flight to Malaysia returned full force, and she swallowed down the bile that rose into her throat.
This shouldn’t bother you. He never promised to be a good husband. No, he’d only went on about desiring her for two years, screwed her until she was mindless, and then switched from sexy orgasm god to cold, business-like billionaire.
Suck it up, Mariana. This is what you signed up for.
The heat of her anger sizzled beneath the bitterness of her jealousy and the frustration at herself and her weakness for the tall, gorgeous Russian.
Shrugging, she met his gaze with her patented attorney gaze—one that was as hard as it was flat. She’d be damned if she let him know how much his abandonment bothered her. And besides, they were only in Asia for his business. She had no right to be angry that he was leaving to see to that business.
But she couldn’t get her heart to listen.
“That’s fine,” she said. “I’ll see you later.” Without a backward glance, Mariana sashayed from the room, ignoring the pricking of humiliation invading her chest.
He felt like shit. He wanted to tell Gregor to turn the car around so he could go back to Marian
a and wipe the hurt from her face, but that ugly, harsh voice in his head kept badgering him, reminding him that his first priority was Trans-Global Corporation. That Mariana was nothing more than a way to scratch an itch…an itch that had been plaguing him since he’d spied her in that courtroom, her hair pinned back in a prim bun, her skirt tight, her coat unbuttoned, her face lit up with the fire of confidence, daring, and passion. Seeing her like that had turned him inside out. It was that Mariana he wanted.
Now that he had her, he didn’t know what the hell to do with her.
She too much woman for you? That hideous voice hissed in his mind, making every point of pride prickle against the onslaught. No. She wasn’t too much woman for him, she was all the woman he would ever need. And he would do whatever it took to keep her. Expect sacrifice his business deal.
But…the memory of the pain in her cocoa eyes made the recesses around his heart fill with something that smacked of regret. He despised regret. Regret only ever led to poor decisions, guilt, and one hell of a hangover.
Mariana’s lovely expressive face flashed through his mind, striking at him like a ballistic missile, aimed squarely at his intentions. She’d tried to hide it behind a curtain of careless chill—like an experienced attorney going in for the kill, but he’d seen—the merest glimpse—of her disappointment. Her dejection. And the loss of the smoldering heat that had been burning in her gaze since they’d brought each other to mind-melting orgasm in the jet.
I made a mistake, the thought blasted through his mind, and the ache in his chest grew ten-fold. But it was too late. Gregor pulled the car up to the hotel where Lyuba and the other members of the legal team were holed up, licking their wounds and waiting for the hammer to fall. A hammer he was bringing with him.
