Page 21

I put my foot on the pedal the minute we’re out of my compound, the streets lying empty for my taking. Lilibeth turns and watches the compound gates swing close behind us.

“Unbelievable,” she gushes in an exaggerated tone.

“What is?” I ask, my neck craning to see her.

She looks like an absolute treat for the eyes tonight in that pretty little chiffon dress she has on.

She’s done something different with her hair tonight, tying it half up in a ponytail, while leaving the rest to cascade down her shoulders.

She’s only twenty-four, but she appears even younger.

“The brat Agafon Letvin driving his own car? I expected at least six bodyguards and a chauffeur,” she teases, her dimples appearing like twin conspirators on her cheeks.

“Disappointed you’re stuck with just me?” I ask with a grin. Around Lilibeth, I find myself smiling more and more.

“Not at all. I like being able to talk without sentinels looming over us.”

“Sentinels,” I snigger, wondering how my head of security would react at being called such a thing.

Lilibeth leans forward to change the music on the stereo of my Bentley. I glance over to see if she might need any help, but hold back a groan when I see what the position does to her neckline, and quickly look away before I get distracted.

She leans back in her seat and, to my surprise, begins to sing along. I steal a glance her way, enamored by her youthfulness and carefree disposition. I don’t remember the last time a woman sang in my car, if ever.

“What?” she asks, suddenly self-conscious.

“Just looking,” I reply, returning my attention to the road. “You clean up well.”

“You clean up well yourself,” she laughs, but I catch her blushing. “Where are we going, by the way?”

“You’ll see,” I say, but refuse to divulge more details.

I pull into the drive-thru of Golden Dragon, the best Chinese takeout in the city, and beside me, Lilibeth looks confused. “Wait…” she asks as we wait for our turn to place our order, her neck craning out of the window to make sure we are where we are.

“What do you think?” I throw her a sideways glance.

She looks utterly confused, but I see she keeps her smile on. “I don’t know what to think,” she says with an honesty that makes me chuckle.

I say nothing as we pull up to the ordering booth. The woman at the window knows me by name, given my usual visits.

“Mr. Letvin! The usual?” she calls out.

“Make it a double portion of each, please,” I nod at her.

Lilibeth's eyebrows shoot up her forehead. “The usual? You're a regular at a drive-thru? And, wait, this is our date? A drive-thru?”

I can't help but chuckle at her expression. “This is just the first stop, you curious kitten.”

“Oh my god, you just called me a curious kitten,” she whispers, then louder: “You have a pet name for me!”

I feel a traitorous heat crawling up my neck. “Well, you’re certainly acting nosy.”

“That’s because I’m a curious kitten,” she counters, triumphant.

After collecting our food, I continue driving toward the outskirts of the city.

“Are you taking me somewhere to kill me?” Lilibeth asks, peering out the window as buildings give way to trees. “Because I should warn you, my brother Lion once tracked down a kid in primary school who stole my favorite pen and made him give it back to me.”

“Your imagination is concerning,” I reply dryly. “Though I'm curious about this pen.”

“It was a nice pen.” She shrugs, then leans closer to me, her scent invading my senses. “Seriously, where are we going? If you don't tell me, I'll... I'll sing the most annoying song I know for the rest of the drive.”

“Is that supposed to be a threat?”

Her eyes narrow. “I know all the words to 'Baby Shark.'“

“I have no idea what that is, but I'm confident I've endured worse interrogation techniques.”

“Fine.” She crosses her arms. “I'll tell everyone at the bar you listen to boy bands.”

I raise an eyebrow at her cute little threats.

I laugh and shake my head. “Five more minutes. Then you'll see.”

She settles back, a smile playing on her lips that suggests she's pleased to have made me laugh. We drive in comfortable silence until I turn onto a dirt road barely visible from the main highway.

“If this leads to a cabin in the woods, I'm jumping out of the car,” she warns playfully.

“It's not a cabin,” I say, finally pulling to a stop on a flat expanse of rocky ground. Beyond the car, the earth drops away in a steep cliff, offering a panoramic view of the city lights sprawling below.

I grab our food and help Lilibeth out of the car. We walk up to a safe distance from the edge of the cliff, and Lilibeth, for the first time tonight, is speechless.

“It's beautiful,” she whispers, then turns to me with a small smile.

I’ll admit I’d been a little nervous. From how she’s dressed up, I know she was expecting a fancy dinner.

For a while , I considered dropping this idea of a picnic under the stars.

But something about this place makes it feel so perfect, so mine, as though the entire city belongs to me, and I couldn’t think of a better place to bring her.

“You like?” I ask.

“I love.” She nods, her eyes darting back to the dazzling lights below.

I leave her there to enjoy the view, head back to the car, and retrieve a blanket from the trunk, along with a bottle of wine. I set up our little spot near the edge—not too close—and Lilibeth joins me, planting herself on the blanket beside me.

Without being asked, she begins to help with the unpacking. I pull out the cartons of food, and she opens the wine. I pull out the cutlery, and she brings out some napkins and the dipping sauces.

“This is way better than some stuffy restaurant,” she declares, sitting cross-legged on the blanket with childlike enthusiasm after we’ve laid out our spread before us. “I can't believe your idea of a date is a secret picnic spot. You're full of surprises.”

“Good ones, I hope.”

“The best kind.” She opens a container of kung pao chicken and inhales deeply. “So, how did you find this place?”

I hesitate right out of instinct. Usually, when people wander into personal territory, I keep them at bay.

But this is Lilibeth. She’s sunshine and light, and her genuine questions deserve honest answers.

“My father used to bring me here when I was young. Before... he passed. It was here that he talked about his work, prepared me for life.”

She nods, and I notice a sad expression on her face. “I miss my parents too,” she murmurs. We speak a little about how our parents passed, how difficult it was, how lucky we were to be so loved, and then fall into comfortable silence.

“How are you settling in at the bar?” I ask, changing the subject, leaning in to refill her wine.

Her face lights up as she takes the glass. “I love it! Your staff was skeptical at first—I think they thought you were only entertaining me as your wife. But I've won most of them over.” She launches into a story about how she fixed the ancient espresso machine that no one else could figure out.

I listen, fascinated by her passion, the way her hands gesture expressively as she talks. She's been working at my bar for two weeks now, and according to Faddey’s reports, she's completely revamped our records.

“Thank you,” she says suddenly, her voice softer. “For giving me a chance. I know I probably made you feel obligated, but—”

“I don't do anything out of obligation,” I interrupt. “You earned your place.”

Her smile could outshine the city below us. “Still. I'm grateful.”

We eat and talk as the night deepens around us. She asks about my brothers and sister, and I find myself sharing stories from our childhood that I haven't told in years. She tells me about growing up with her own brothers, about Lion's overprotectiveness and Benedikt's terrible cooking.

I've taken women to five-star restaurants and bought them jewelry worth tens of thousands, but I've never seen appreciation as genuine as Lilibeth's over Chinese takeout and city lights. Her joy is infectious, and her excitement is childlike at the simplest things. She’s only twenty-four to my thirty-seven years of existence, yet I find myself wanting to learn from her about the delights of finding joy in life's simple pleasures.

She melts me into comfort, easing and coaxing answers out of me that I never thought I’d be comfortable sharing. We’re just about to start opening the fortune cookies when the first drops of rain catch us by surprise.

“Oh dear,” Lilibeth mutters, looking skyward. And then, within seconds, it starts to pour.

Lilibeth scrambles to begin packing up, but I stop her by catching her wrist. “Leave it,” I say loudly to be heard over the rain. I want her out of here before she catches a cold.

She nods, and I help her up. “This way,” I say, her hand in mine as I lead her to a small wooden structure nestled among the trees.

We dash through the rain, laughing, until we reach the simple door. I pull out my car keys, which also hold all the other vital keys, and unlock the door.

“You have a hut?” she gasps as I guide her inside.

“I come here sometimes when I need space from... everything,” I explain, and close the door behind us.

Lilibeth nods as she takes in the surroundings. The hut is rather small, with just enough space for a bed, a small table, a single sofa, and a kitchenette with a microwave and hot plate.

We're both soaked, her dress clinging to her curves in a way that makes my mouth dry. Her hair is darkened by the water, her mascara slightly smudged.

“You're shivering,” I observe.

“It's cold,” she admits, wrapping her arms around herself.

I move to a small chest and pull out a thick blanket. “You should get out of those wet clothes.”

Her eyes widen slightly, a blush creeping up her neck. “I—”

“I'll turn around,” I say quickly, understanding her hesitation. Then, inspiration strikes, and I hold the blanket up like a curtain. “I'll hold this behind my back. You change behind it, just to be extra safe.”

She let out a nervous, breathy laugh but nods. I stand with my back to her, extend the blanket, and hear the agonizing sound of zips being unzipped, of a dress falling to the ground. The images it puts in my head have me scrambling to think of anything but her.

“Okay,” she says softly. “I'm... well, I'm in my underwear.”

I turn, blanket still in hand, and wrap it around her before allowing myself to look. Her shoulders are bare, freckled lightly, her collarbones delicate beneath skin flushed from cold and embarrassment.

“Better?” I ask, my voice rough.

She nods, clutching the blanket. “What about you? You're soaked too.”

“There’s only one blanket,” I explain. I peel off my shirt, aware of her eyes on me as I do. The hut suddenly feels much warmer. I don't miss the way her eyes linger over me, appreciating this body I’ve worked hard to build.

She’s still trembling, and this time, I wonder if it’s truly from the cold.

“Come here,” I say, sitting on the edge of the bed and patting it. “Body heat.”

She follows my lead and leans against me, her blanket-wrapped body warm against my side. “Is this the real reason you brought me here? A manufactured rainstorm to get me into your secret hideout?”

“If I had that power, I wouldn’t waste my time in the Bratva,” I chuckle, brushing a damp strand of hair that’s tickling my shoulder.

Her eyes meet mine, keeping me rooted in her gaze as time begins to stand still. “I'm glad you brought me here,” she whispers. “To your special place.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” I whisper.

“Very much,” she says, her gaze now lowering to my lips.

The cold air now sizzles into steam. Being so close to her is sheer torture, every moment reminding me of that time back home when I had her backed up against a wall, her lips soft against my mouth.

I wonder if she thinks of it the same way I do, but then she whispers, “Agafon” with such lust, such want, such hunger, that I know she feels the same way.

Desperate. Carnal.

Suddenly, her lips are on mine. The kiss starts gentle, a question I answer by sliding my hand to the back of her neck, cradling her head as I deepen it. She answers by moaning into my mouth, digging her nails into my shoulders, pulling closer.

Her hands, still clutching the blanket now, move lower to press against my chest.

The kiss grows more urgent, her mouth opening to mine, and I slide my tongue in, feel the roof of her mouth, the curves of her teeth. Her small sounds of pleasure drive me to the edge of my control. I trail kisses down her jaw, her neck, feeling her pulse flutter beneath my lips.

“You've been working so hard,” I murmur against her skin. “Let me show you a good time.”

She makes a small, needy sound that sends heat straight between my legs. In answer, she removes her blanket, and my pupils literally blast open at the sight of her blue lace bra and matching panties.

My breath catches at the soft curves and her pale skin.

My hands literally shake from restraint because if I let them loose on her, I might devour her whole.

I gently rise to stand over her, getting on my knees to cradle her hips until she gets the idea and her back hits the bed.

I position myself above her, continue to kiss lower, across her collarbone, between her breasts, down the soft expanse of her stomach, until at last, my hands trail down her thighs and I inch off the bed, down on my knees as I kneel between her legs.

Her eyes, when they meet mine, are dark with desire, her lips parted. I hook my fingers into the sides of her panties, a question in my gaze. She nods, lifting her hips slightly to help me.

I slide the lace down her legs, my eyes never leaving hers until the moment I lower my head, my tongue tracing a path through her most intimate flesh.

Her gasp is the sweetest sound I've ever heard.