Page 82 of His Son's Ex

EVA

The restaurant is filled with powerful people dressed in tailored tuxes and luxurious gowns, the tension so thick it hovers like a dark cloud above. Family dinners are the mob version of prom night. I’m perched on a velvet stool sipping my second mocktail, my jaw sore from the smile I’ve been faking all night long.

I swirl my drink, eyes drifting toward the show across the room. Linda is trying to save face, floundering like a fish out of water, all designer sparkle and fake indignation. Watching her struggle is worth every awkward handshake I’ve had to survive tonight.

A thick Russian accent cuts in behind me. “Vodka. Neat.”

I glance sideways. He’s tall with broad shoulders, dressed in a black suit with sharp lines. His eyes are blank and cold. Definitely Bratva. He raises his drink at me. “Good evening. I don’t believe we’ve met.”

I give him a smooth smile. “Eva Smith.”

“Smith?” he echoes, suspicious. “You look very familiar.”

My stomach knots and I laugh lightly, nodding at his suit. “I think I’d remember a guy who wears Armani like it’s stitched into his DNA,” I say, trying to play it off.

He chuckles. “Flattery coming from a woman like you is always dangerous.”

I nod and take a sip of my drink, holding his gaze defiantly.

His smile fades as he says, “These are strange times. Peace came at a cost.”

“Doesn’t it always?”

Dante appears, his hand sliding around my waist like a silent claim. The Russian nods. “Bellacino.”

“Volkov.” Dante’s voice is pure steel.

Volkov dips his head and disappears into the crowd. Dante watches him go, his jaw set.

“What was that about?” I ask.

“Ghosts from the past,” he mutters. Then, without warning, he pulls me into a kiss that leaves everyone around us staring. It’s fierce and possessive. The kind of kiss meant to deliver a statement. I melt into it, a spark of liquid heat pooling between my thighs.

“You’re mine,” he whispers into my ear.

“You think so?”

His gaze sharpens, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “I know so.”

His intensity tugs at something deep inside me. But tonight, after all the drama—and Linda’s public unraveling—I want control. A wicked idea sparks.

I press a hand to his chest as I murmur, “I’m calling the shots tonight.”

A flicker of desire lights up in his eyes. He grins.

“Let’s get out of here.”

We arrive at the estate and rush up the spiral staircase. We enter our suite, closing the massive double doors with a soft click, allowing the soft hush of the mansion to wrap around us like a velvet curtain. Moonlight pours in through the tall windows, bathing the room in a sensuous silver glow.

I approach him seductively, pushing off his suit jacket and tossing it aside before reaching for his belt. Undoing it slowly, I open his slacks, yanking them down and letting them fall to the floor. I unbutton his shirt quickly and shove it off his shoulders, revealing his gorgeous torso. Trailing soft kisses along his chest, I work my way down his torso until I reach the waistband of his boxer briefs. I tug at it with my teeth, my insinuation clear, then lick my way back up his stomach until I reach his mouth, nibbling on his bottom lip for a brief second.

“Lie back on the bed,” I purr as I pull down the straps of my gown, letting it drop to the floor, revealing the black, lacy satin bra and matching panties underneath. “It’s time you see what this girl can do.”

He yanks down his underwear, his enormous erection standing at attention, then strides over to the bed. He reclines against the pillows, arms overhead, his eyes looking me up and down in pure delight. The sight of his delicious cock, rock hard and just for me, makes my pussy ache with need.

“You think I don’t already know what you can do?”

“You haven’t seen anything yet.”