Page 19

“Is your brother on a mission or something? Why does he have so many startups?”

Alina walked gingerly beside me, with her long brown skirt flowing below her ankles, while the host, a man in a plain white dress shirt and vest, showed us to our table. An intimate table-for-two set up, with warm lights hanging over heads and a good view of the nearby beach.

I wanted to ignore her but instead found myself responding. “It’s not so many; it’s just seven. And each startup is for a different purpose. As for this one, the La Vine was commissioned fourteen months ago.”

“So, The Tavern is his newest startup?”

“No, the gym is. It was commissioned three months after The Tavern.”

“Damien started a gym?”

“Why so surprised? He’s talked about it for the longest time. I wonder what took him so long.” Distracted, I made to sit first, and she cleared her throat, eyeing her chair suggestively. I grunted before pulling it out and settling into mine.

“Thank you.” She smiled sweetly. “I know it’s not your thing, but it doesn’t hurt once in a while to see the gentleman in you.”

“There is no gentleman in me.” I signaled a wine steward and a waiter to place our order. “You already know what you’re getting yourself into by getting married to me, Alina. No need to pretend like you’re going to get a different package.”

“It’s not pretending. I’ve seen your sweet moments, remember?”

“Oh, really?” I dismissed the steward and waiter, raising a brow at her. “Like which ones?”

Alina laughed airily, her eyes twinkling under the lights, happy that I’d finally succumbed to her constant pleas to go on a date to La Vine. She looked pretty, with her black hair flowing below her bare shoulders and down the small sleeveless top she wore, and after a quick sweep, I waited for it, the small spark that started in the hollow of my chest and traveled between my legs. The spark that made me want her all those other times. But I felt nothing.

Seated across from me, she looked young and distant, almost like a first-time stranger. She started talking about the times I took her shopping and random days I’d sent gifts to her house.

Alina and I had been engaged for six months. Ivanova didn’t want the wedding rushed, so I was more or less under an obligation to take his daughter through a proper courting process. The outings, the gifts. The Pakhan himself had reminded me to do those things that were needed. But I didn’t tell Alina that. I listened to her speak about more sweet moments, which had more sexual content, before she ventured into praising my brother’s restaurant.

Alina blushed as she reminded me of the first time she made a random visit to my office, and I fucked her right there on my table. Then, she laughed.

And across the room, someone else laughed louder.

My senses were suddenly on high alert, and my eyes subtly scanned the room. I tried to focus on Alina’s words, tried to stay in the moment, but then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw her.

Hazel.

The sight of her hit me like a punch to the gut, as it always did. That spark, the one I’d searched for with Alina, lit up and rushed through my blood faster than nicotine. My heart skidded. After our last session in her office, I got Amelia to approve our subsequent sessions to be streamed. For three weeks, I participated online, with our videos turned off—based on my insistence.

I’d tried to stay away, to put the distance while keeping up with the participation. It was hard, but at least I didn’t have to see her.

Well, life had a way of playing cruel, sick games, because now, I did. And she was still so fucking perfect.

Effortlessly beautiful, as she’d always been, with the way she held herself: so poised, confident, graceful.

She stood near the bar, laughing softly at something a man had said. Looking closely, I recognized the bastard’s face and watched as he casually placed a hand on her back. It was a small gesture, nothing overt, no grand display of affection. But it was enough to send a wave of something sharp and bitter rolling through me, like vinegar in my gut.

I tried to look away, to focus on Alina’s voice, but my eyes kept darting back to Hazel. To Nathan’s hand on her.

Her body language was relaxed, familiar. She leaned into him slightly, her expression soft and easy, the way she’d leaned into me that night, cradled my face, and told me she needed me.

He was her boyfriend; his hand on her waist didn’t mean anything.

It didn’t matter how many times I repeated it. To me, it was everything.

My stomach churned, my chest tightening with a sharp, possessive rage. Was this what jealousy felt like? Like having the insane urge to rip someone’s throat out for pleasure?

I shifted in my seat, glancing down at my untouched glass of wine, the red liquid swirling as my mind raced. I told myself it was irrational. That I was being ridiculous. I had Alina here with me. She was Ivanova’s daughter.

I had an obligation to the Pakhan .

But none of that stopped the surge of territorial anger from rising.

“Miron, is everything okay?” Alina’s voice snapped me out of my head.

I blinked, forcing a smile as I turned my gaze back to her. “Yeah, just…distracted for a second.”

She frowned, her eyes searching mine, but I did my best to mask whatever had twisted inside me. “You look like you want to put a bullet in something.”

I forced another smile. “Yeah. I just remembered that I have some unfinished business to take care of.”

“Oh.” Hurt flashed through her face, but she masked it with a bright smile. “I understand. You’ve been working so hard anyway. What do you say? Let’s finish up quickly here and stop by my house. I could help you blow off some steam, just the way you like, before you go settle your unfinished business.”

“Sure.” I continued to smile at her. “Let’s do that.”

***

All night, I had my eyes on Hazel.

When she ordered, what she ordered, when she laughed, talked…everything. They sat at the other end of the room, many tables away, but it was easy to monitor them because Alina paid full attention to her food when eating.

As the hands on the clock ticked by, my patience stretched thin, and when I thought it would snap, Hazel’s chair moved backward as she excused herself from the table with a smile.

The golden opportunity had finally presented itself, and I’d be damned if I didn’t take it.

“I have to call Damir. I’ll be right back.”

I barely had time to watch her smile and nod before moving fast out of my seat, tracing Hazel’s footsteps. She was heading to the ladies’ room, but I followed a shortcut to intercept her before she reached her destination.

It was a small corridor, narrow, dim, and slim, linking different wings of the restaurant. Barely anyone walked through it, but Damien liked it because he could display some interior design creativity in the space.

The second Hazel passed, my hand closed around her wrist, and I dragged her into the shadows, pressing her back against the wall and trapping her with my body before she could protest.

Hazel’s eyes grew wide, and she gasped, but I didn’t let go, didn’t loosen my grip. My fingers dug into the softness of her skin, maybe a little too rough, but I wanted her to feel this.

I needed her to feel me.

“What the fuck, Hazel?” I growled, not bothering to hide my frustration. “You think this is funny?”

She blinked up at me, looking innocent. “Miron…what—what are you talking about? What are you doing here?

I stepped even closer, crowding her against the cold wall, pressing the bulge between my legs against her thighs. “You want to play games, fine. But don’t play them with me. You asked me to leave, and I tried to keep my distance. And now you’re here, with that bastard, laughing and touching and rubbing it in my fucking face that I can’t have you?”

“Can you hear yourself? You think you’re the center of the universe, Miron? News flash: The world doesn’t revolve around you, okay? Nathan and I are here on a date. He asked for good recommendations, and I remembered….”

She remembered the food we had that night. The direct order I’d placed from La Vine.

“This was the only place I could think of. The Tavern reminds me of Axel.”

And the first night we’d had a genuine connection.

I could feel her pulse fluttering beneath my grip, her chest rising and falling too quickly, and it drew my attention to her breasts. Though hidden behind that olive green dress, I knew what they looked like: their taste and texture. And my mouth watered to have her again.

She could pretend all she wanted, but I knew the truth. She wasn’t unaffected. She wasn’t indifferent.

“Well, it doesn’t fucking matter. There were a thousand other restaurants to choose from, and you picked here.”

“Because I could.” She eyed me defiantly.

“And I’m here, too, so you don’t get to do all of that mushy stuff when I’m still around,” I said, my voice dropping even lower. “Especially not with that idiot.”

“You’re being unreasonable, and you’re acting crazy again.”

“What was that?”

Her breath hitched. I watched her throat bob as she swallowed, and when she finally spoke, it was softer. “Why are you doing this, Miron? Why do you care so much anyway? It was just one night of misplaced affection. Why can’t you let it go?”

It was a question I’d asked myself over and over again. Why couldn’t I just let it go? But only one answer came back to haunt me. I’d fed my obsession, and it had grown into a wild, consuming fire. She thought it was hard to walk away from her cheating boyfriend?

She didn’t know the first thing about struggling to walk away. This right here—being close to her, inhaling her, wanting her—threatened all my inhibitions and made me forget who had control.

I exhaled sharply, the corner of my mouth curling in something dark. I let go of her wrist only to slide my fingers higher to her jaw, tilting her face, but she refused to look me in the eye.

“You know why I can’t let it go. I want you, Hazel. I want you madly and deeply. I want to fuck you until all you can think and breathe is me.”

And then she looked up at me, her breaths coming fast, her lips parted in shock or maybe something else. I remembered we weren’t supposed to be alone. We weren’t supposed to be this close.

But her big eyes were filled with something she didn’t want to say out loud. Something I wasn’t ready to admit. And without thinking, before I could stop myself, before I could remember all the reasons she’d listed to prove why this was wrong, I kissed her.

Hard.

She gasped against my mouth, but she didn’t pull away. No, she melted into me, her hands fisting in my jacket. It was rough and fucking desperate—because that was how she made me feel, like we were trying to tear something out of each other, something we couldn’t have.

Her nails scraped against my neck, my hands gripping her waist like I was afraid she’d slip away. It was fire, and it burned like hell, but I didn’t care.

“Miron….”

I buried my face between her neck, breathing her scent in like an animal in heat. Christ. I was fucked. I pressed my hips deeper, dragged my fingers to her hips to grip those soft thighs. “That’s it. Say my fucking name, moy dorogaya Kheyzel.” My dear Hazel.

She shuddered in my arms, whimpering when I kissed her jaw and finally found her lips again.

“Miron,” she moaned into my mouth, and I swallowed it. Licked it. Tasted the wine on her warm tongue and had a strange feeling that I’d never have enough of this woman.

“Miron, please….” Then she broke, her voice shaking, with tears in her eyes. She clutched a pendant hanging around her neck with a death grip, and it was the first time I’d noticed she wore it consistently. Even that night.

“Please, no. I’m begging you. I can’t. We can’t. This is wrong.”

I was burning up, and she was begging. Begging me to stop.

And just like that, I did.

I pulled back, chest heaving, heart hammering like a fist against my ribs. Her lips were red, her breath uneven.

I should’ve walked away first, turned around and left her crying there without once looking over my shoulder.

But I didn’t.

I let her go.