Page 28

It’s a quiet afternoon at Thaw, and I’m cornered in a booth, going over the revenue and bottom line for the quarter.

The crowd at this hour is always sparse, and my staff works quietly.

It’s a good, slow afternoon, and Lilibeth is somewhere nearby, checking on the groceries and alcohol stock to create a list of what must be ordered.

I have my head buried in the numbers when I hear the door open and footsteps. I look up out of curiosity to see if it’s one of the regulars I should say hello to when I freeze.

How dare they set foot in my joint after they attacked our operation and killed some of our men? Does the Sokolov family have no fear or shame? Three of them walk in, and I decide not to move.

There’s only one reason they could be here: to spy. Let them. They’ll only be wasting my time, and the last thing I want is to let them get a rise out of me. If I act out, they’ll think they’re important enough for me to give a fuck about what they do.

I don’t care. They’re low nobodies.

I continue writing in my ledger, refusing to acknowledge them.

But it gets hard to ignore them when they walk right up to me. I feel their shadows over my ledger, and look up with steel in my eyes, refusing to greet them.

“Agafon Letvin,” Viktor Sokolov sniggers over me. “Working hard or hardly working?”

I keep my face neutral. “This is a private establishment. Members only until six.”

They ignore me and sit around the booth. From a distance, I see one of my men nod in my direction. If they cause trouble, the backup is there.

The air around the table grows thick.

“What the fuck do you want?” I growl.

“We thought we'd stop by, see how the mighty Letvin is doing after that... mishap at the warehouse.” Viktor's voice drips with mock concern.

I turn one lip up in contempt. “Three weeks of planning your little sabotage, and all you managed was to delay one shipment by two days and kill a handful of men in an operation of dozens.” I close my ledger with a soft thud.

“Hardly worth the fifteen men you lost. Now tell me, how does Tikhon feel about this failure?”

Andrei and Alexey now look nervous at the mention of their older brother’s name. Tikhon Sokolov rules with a tight first, and I have a hunch that their cousin Viktor has embroiled Tikhon’s younger siblings into his plans without Tikhon knowing. There’ll be consequences for Viktor. For that, I pray.

Viktor's smile doesn't reach his eyes, and I know why. “We heard your brother's back in town. Nikandr, right? The family disappointment? Still cleaning himself up or back to his old habits?”

My eyes snap to him, and I feel my pen crush between my fingers as I try to contain my rage. Hearing that Nikandr is in town, especially from the very people who fueled him with drugs and now feign concern, is too much for me to handle.

Nikandr is off-limits. Especially to the Sokolovs.

“You have exactly five seconds to walk out that door,” I say, my voice dropping to a tone so threatening that Andrei glances at his younger brother Alexey in warning to remain quiet. “Or I'll carve you into such small pieces they'll never be able to identify you.”

Viktor glowers as he puts his hand inside his jacket. Stupid. I'm already reaching under my usual table for the Glock taped there when a burst of bright laughter interrupts us.

“There you are!” Lilibeth sweeps up to the booth like she owns it. “I've been looking everywhere for you, Agafon!”

She's smiling at me like we're supposed to have plans, those dimples deep enough to drown in, completely ignoring the three Sokolovs who are now staring at her like she's the intruder.

She reaches the table and slides in next to me, still beaming. “Oh! I didn't realize you had company.” She turns that thousand-watt smile on the Sokolovs. “I'm Lilibeth. And you are...?”

Viktor recovers first, his eyes sliding over her in a way that makes me want to remove them from his skull. “Viktor Sokolov. These are my cousins.”

“Sokolov!” She claps her hands together and turns to me. “Friends of yours?”

I watch in disbelief as she pretends she’s never heard of them. She leans forward, waiting for an answer. I offer nothing, and Andrei shuffles in his seat uncomfortably. “Something like that,” he says, and Viktor scowls at him.

But I know what they’re thinking. She’s a woman, and they won’t bother bringing her up to date on what our equation is.

“How lovely!” Lilibeth squeals. “I love to meet Agafon’s friends. So tell me, how long have you known each other?”

With each question, she puts them in an increasingly uncomfortable situation.

Her hand finds my thigh under the table and squeezes—a signal to play along.

“Unfortunately,” she says, turning to me with a little pout, “I need to steal Agafon away. Those excise duty officers will be here in twenty minutes for that inspection, and we need to make sure everything's in order.”

The effect is instantaneous. The Sokolovs, whom I know have been running untaxed liquor through the east side and have officers looking for them everywhere, suddenly find reasons to leave.

“Another time, Letvin,” Viktor mutters, backing away.

“Looking forward to it,” I reply, my voice arctic.

The moment they're gone, I turn to Lilibeth. “My office. Now.”

She follows me up the stairs at the back of the bar, her heels clicking a playful rhythm that somehow makes me even more irritated. I push open the door to my office and wait for her to enter before slamming it shut.

“What the hell was that?” I demand.

She perches on the edge of my desk, entirely too comfortable. “That was me saving your bar from becoming a crime scene.” She crosses her legs, the hem of her dress riding up slightly. “You're welcome, by the way.”

“I didn't need your help. My men were on standby.” I pace in front of her, the adrenaline still coursing through me, with nowhere to go. “Do you have any idea how dangerous the Sokolovs are? They wouldn't think twice about hurting you just to get to me.”

She rolls her eyes. “Please. If the situation was dangerous, I wouldn’t have entered.”

“And you’d know how to assess a dangerous situation?” I walk up to her and plant my arms on either side of her body, caging her in.

She cocks her head and pretends to think. “Yes.” She looks back at me. “I think I would have known. For example, if they’d have come in guns blazing, I would have handled it in an entirely different manner.”

“Handled it?” I ask through gritted teeth. “You would have handled it?”

“Yeah,” she grins. “Maybe with a gun of my own.”

I groan and step back, running my hand through my hair. “You need to stay out of such situations in the future. You hear me?”

“You can just say 'thank you,' you know. It's only two words. Won't kill you.” Those dimples appear again as she grins up at me. “Go on. Try it.”

“I don't need to thank you for interfering in my business.”

“I think the word you're looking for is 'helping.' And yes, you absolutely do need to thank me.” She pokes me in the chest with one finger. “I was brilliant.”

A laugh escapes me before I can stop it, surprising us both. “Fine. You did well.”

Her smile widens. “See? Was that so hard?”

“Yes. Excruciating.” But I'm smiling too, the tension in my shoulders easing for the first time since they entered the bar.

She studies me, head tilted. “You're still wound up, though.” Before I can react, she gets off the desk and wraps her arms around my waist, pressing her soft curves against me in a hug.

I freeze at the hug. It’s the first time I think she’s ever hugged me. But her warmth seeps through my shirt, and I find my hands settling on her back almost of their own accord.

“There,” she murmurs against my chest. “Isn't that better?”

It is, which is disturbing enough, because I’m supposed to be giving her a lecture, and here I am, letting myself get all distracted like that.

But what's more disturbing is the heat building low in my stomach, a different kind of tension distracting me from the work I’m supposed to be doing at this very moment.

She must feel the change because she pulls back slightly, looking up at me with those clever eyes.

“You know,” she says, voice dropped to a husky whisper, “I know other ways to help you release tension.”

My mouth goes dry. “Do you now?”

“Mmmhmm.” Her hands slide up my chest, then back down to settle at my waist. “Very effective ways.”

We’re in my office. I should be working. So should she. Anyone could walk in. There are a dozen reasons why this is a terrible idea.

None of them seems to matter when she rises on her tiptoes and brushes her lips against mine.

The touch is electric. My hands move instantly, one tangling in her hair, the other gripping her hip to pull her closer. I deepen the kiss, taking control, and she makes a small, pleased sound in the back of her throat that sends blood rushing south.

She breaks the kiss, breathing hard, those incredible eyes looking up at me with such mischief that I have to force myself to not fuck her right here and now. “Sit,” she commands, pushing me toward my chair.

Amused by her boldness, I allow myself to be guided backward until I'm seated. Immediately, she's on me, straddling my lap, her dress riding up to accommodate the position.

“Better?” she asks, settling her ass, warm and soft and perfect, against my rapidly hardening cock.

“Getting there,” I manage, my voice rough.

She laughs, a sound of pure delight, and kisses me again. Her lips are full and eager, her tongue teasing mine as her hands roam my chest. I grip her hips, guiding her in a slow grind against me, and she moans into my mouth.

“I've wanted to do this since the night at the hut,” she confesses between kisses.

“Me too,” I admit, trailing kisses down her neck.

She pulls back, eyebrows raised. “Oh?”

I brush my thumb across her cheek. “You’re a fucking tease you know that?”

“Am I?” she prompts, rotating her hips in a way that makes thinking difficult.

“And that your ass looks incredible in that dress.”

She throws her head back and laughs. “Did anyone tell you honesty should have its limits?”

I glower and bite gently into her neck. She groans and her hands move between us to undo my belt. I help her, lifting my hips as she tugs down my trousers and boxers.

My cock springs free, already hard and ready for her. Her eyes widen appreciatively, and a small “oh” escapes her lips.

“See something you like?” I can't help the smugness in my tone.

She wraps her fingers around me, and now it's my turn to make an involuntary sound; a groan that comes from deep in my chest.

“I do,” she says, her grip firm as she gives me one experimental stroke. “Very much so.”

I close my eyes, my head falling back against the chair as she begins to work on me with her hand. Her touch is unpredictable yet follows a pattern, alternating between firm strokes and teasing, lighter ones that make me flex my hips for more. It keeps me on my toes. It gets me harder and harder…

“Is this helping with the tension?” she asks, voice playful.

I open my eyes to find her watching me, those dimples on full display as she grins. “It's... a start,” I manage, just to see her rise to the challenge.

Her eyes narrow. “A start, huh?” She twists her wrist on the upstroke, her thumb swiping over the sensitive head of my cock, and I hiss through my teeth at the pleasure of it.

“How about now?” she asks, repeating the motion.

My hand covers hers, guiding her to the rhythm I need. “Getting warmer.”

She leans in, her lips brushing my ear. “And if I told you all the other things I want to do to you? How I want to taste you, feel you inside me?”

Jesus Christ. My cock jumps in her hand, and she laughs softly, clearly pleased with my response.

She continues her steady strokes.

Unable to form words from how fucking good she feels, I kiss her again, surrendering control to her touch.