Page 6

“For dinner.” As if on cue, Angelina appears with a large platter of medium rare steak and places it on the table along with a jug of rich-looking sauce. Another server, an older man I don’t recognize, sets down a dish of braised artichokes and some rosemary potatoes, then walks away.

“Would you like me to serve?” Angelina asks.

I shake my head. “We’ll manage, thank you.”

“As you wish, Mr. Reznov.”

Angelina leaves us and I give Olivia an expectant look. “Well?”

“Well, what?” She frowns as I point to the food in front of us. Her mouth drops open. “You expect me to serve you?”

“In many ways, malyshka , but you can start by serving dinner.”

Olivia’s jaw clenches. I fully expect her to throw something at me, perhaps a glass of wine.

I’d welcome an outburst as an excuse to drag her over my knee and thrash her ass.

Sadly, she doesn’t take the bait. Instead, she smiles sweetly, rises from her chair, and gives me an incredible view of her breasts as she places three slices of meat, a spoonful of potatoes, and some artichoke on my plate.

Then she sits back in her seat and crosses her arms over her chest, quietly fuming as I unfurl my napkin and drape it over my lap.

“Haven’t you forgotten something?” I ask as I slice off a piece of steak.

“What? Did you want me to chew it for you?”

“Less of the attitude,” I warn her, though I actually get a buzz out of her speaking to me in that insolent tone. I point my fork at her plate. “You didn’t take any for yourself.”

“Oh.” She was so busy being pissed at me, she didn’t even realize she hadn’t given herself any food. She takes two slices of the steak and some artichoke, but leaves the potatoes.

“Don’t tell me you’re on a low-carb kick?” If anything, Olivia could stand to gain a few pounds, not that I’d ever dictate what she eats.

“No. I could never give up bread or pasta. I just don’t like potatoes.”

It’s a little thing, but I guess I learned something new about her. The tension eases as Olivia takes a bite of her steak and moans in appreciation.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” I cut off a generous piece and pop it in my mouth.

“Divine,” Olivia agrees.

As we eat, Olivia slowly relaxes and conversation flows more easily between us. It’s mainly me asking her about her food and travel preferences, safe topics, and her answering. She does occasionally show some interest in my life, so that’s something.

Though she made me wait for her, it’s been worth it.

I’ve seen a less guarded version of Olivia that I like.

It’s not essential for me to enjoy spending time with my bride outside of the bedroom, but I would prefer not to want to strangle my wife every second of the day.

Sure, Olivia will push my buttons now and then, but, on balance, I think she’ll make a suitable wife.

As she swallows her last bite of artichoke and sets her knife and fork down on her plate, I decide the time is right to remind her of what I want. Taking the red velvet box from my jacket pocket, I slide it across the table.

“What’s this?” Olivia asks suspiciously.

“Open it and see.”

She picks up the box and opens it warily, as if she expects a bomb to go off.

The five-carat Asscher cut diamond ring wasn’t the most expensive in the exclusive store I bought it from, but the moment I saw it I pictured it on Olivia’s finger.

Most women would be thrilled to receive such a gift, but the expression on Olivia’s face is one of pure horror.

“What is this?” Her words come out in a breathless rush. “Piotr?”

I reach across the table and take her hand as she drops the box onto the table. “It’s your engagement ring, malyskha .”

It won’t be a long engagement. I intend to speak to Antonio tonight to arrange for the ceremony to take place in New York a week from now.

“No.” Olivia shakes her head. Snatching her hand away from mine, she flings her chair back violently as she jumps up.

“You knew this was coming,” I tell her as she stares down at me, those deep blue eyes filled with panic. “You knew I wanted you.”

“Yes, but I need…”

Not bothering to tell me she needs time or whatever bullshit she was going to come out with, Olivia whirls around and runs from the restaurant. I’ve got to admit, it’s impressive how fast she moves in those heels.

I take a roll of cash from my pocket and throw down enough money to cover the bill, plus a generous tip.

Grabbing the jewelry box she discarded, I follow Olivia outside.

She’s heading toward a dark blue SUV I recognize as Damiano’s.

He may not have accompanied her into the restaurant, but he obviously hung around to ensure she got home safely.

I should be insulted by that, but I like that Olivia’s family looks out for her.

Marching up behind the feisty brunette, I grab her arm and steer her back toward the building we just exited.

“Let go!” she screeches.

“Not a chance, malyskha .”

Behind us, a car door slams.

“Reznov!” Damiano shouts.

“ Starne fuori ,” I reply, letting him know this is not his business.

“Don’t push it,” Damiano warns, but he doesn’t follow as I drag a struggling Olivia around to the side of the building and slam her back against the rough stone wall.

“What’s the matter with you?” I demand. “You know this is happening. Your brother supports me in this.”

She doesn’t deny it. I know Antonio has made his feelings on the subject clear to her.

When I first told him I wanted his sister, he insisted he wouldn’t force her into anything, but lately he’s grown impatient.

He wants our alliance to be as strong as possible and his mother’s impending marriage to my uncle won’t be enough, not when I assume the mantle of Pakhan.

Olivia draws in a shuddering breath. “I can’t do this. I need more time.”

“Time?” I scoff at the pathetic excuse. It’s what people always want, as if it will miraculously solve all their problems. More time to think. More time to pay. More time to live. It’s the one thing I’ve never been prepared to give. “I’ve wasted enough time on this charade already.”

“Charade?”

“Being nice. I came and told you my intentions. I allowed you to stamp your feet and throw me out of your cousin’s house.

” She’d been magnificent that day as she yelled at me to leave Damiano’s home.

“I sent flowers, cards. When you needed a favor, I granted it. I’ve taken you to dinner, showed an interest in more than your pretty face and your tight little cunt. But still you resist.”

“You bastard.” Olivia’s eyes glisten with tears. Did she really think I would continue to court her with sweet gestures, to wear her down until she accepted me?

“My patience is at an end, Olivia. You will marry me in New York, one week from today.”

Several emotions play out across her face. There’s shock, fear, anger. She closes her eyes and breathes in deeply, drawing on her inner strength. Her eyes pop open and she tosses back her silky mane of chestnut hair. I can’t wait to wrap it around my fist as I fuck her from behind.

“Or what?” she demands.

There’s defiance in her gaze and something infinitely more intriguing. Desire. I see it now. She wants me, but can’t admit it to me or herself. She needs me to force the issue. I guess she’s standing on her pride.

Spinning her around, I push her face toward the wall. She instinctively throws her hands out to brace herself. I hold her in place with a firm hand between her shoulders and yank her dress up to reveal her bare ass.

“No panties?” If I’d known she was walking about like this, I’d have pulled her out of the restaurant and thrashed her ass earlier.

“It’s a tight dress.” If she thinks that’s an adequate response, she’s mistaken. She glances over her shoulder at me. “What the fuck are you doing?”

I don’t answer. Well, not with words. Drawing my arm back, I smack her ass hard. She squeals and tries to break free from my grasp.

“Keep still,” I warn her, “or I’ll take my belt off.”

The threat is enough to make her stop struggling. She’s lucky I’m in a generous mood tonight, because the thought of lashing that peachy skin until it’s red raw is getting me hard.

Olivia stands there, taking it like a good girl as I spank her ass five more times.

She gasps and hisses, dancing up onto her toes, but she doesn’t try to get away.

Her flesh heats beneath my palm and the blood courses faster through my veins.

I don’t know when I last felt such a rush.

My erection throbs and I wonder who’s suffering more—Olivia or me?

I deliver another blow to her toned buttocks and Olivia moans. It’s not the sound of a woman in pain.

“Piotr.” My name is a desperate plea on her lips.

I doubt she even knows what she wants, but as she pushes her hips back toward me, I slip my hand between her legs.

“You’re drenched.” I withdraw my fingers and hold them up for her to see. “Does being spanked turn you on, malyskha ?”

“You turn me on.” Her eyes widen. She didn’t mean to admit it.

Triumph surges through me. Even if she spoke accidentally, she deserves a reward for her honesty. Wrapping my arm around her waist, I pull her back against me. I slide my right hand down to the apex of her thighs and tease her clit with my middle finger.

Olivia is beautifully responsive. Her head drops to my shoulder and her lips part as she moans ecstatically.

Sliding two fingers into her tight channel, I continue to stroke her clit with my thumb.

Her pussy clenches and her hips buck as I fuck her with my fingers.

She cries out as she comes. The sound is music to my ears.

Her body goes limp and I hold her for a moment, feeling the rapid beat of her heart as she steadies herself.

She stands up straight, pulling away from me, and I feel the loss of her warm body against mine.

Drawing her skirt back down over her thighs, she whirls around and slaps my face, hard enough to sting.

“How dare you!” She jabs a finger at my chest. “I am not some whore you can feel up in a parking lot.”

Her indignation amuses me. Curving my hand around the back of her head, I drag her closer. “Oh, but you are a whore, Olivia. You’re my whore, and soon you’ll learn exactly what that means.”

Taking hold of her arm, I lead her back across the parking lot to where Damiano is standing by his car.

He looks tense as he scans Olivia’s body.

If he was any other man, I’d gouge his eyes out for daring to examine her like that.

Satisfied she’s in one piece, he nods to me, then turns and gets back behind the wheel of his car.

Olivia reaches for the handle of the back door, but I put my hand over hers, preventing her from opening it. I lean in close, and she shudders.

“One week, Olivia. You’ll stand with me and say your vows like you mean them or I’ll tear your life to pieces. By the time I’m finished with you, there won’t be anything left for the vultures to pick over. Understand?”

“I understand,” she hisses.

Loving her fire, I don’t retaliate when she elbows me in the ribs and shoves me out of her way. No other woman would dare to treat me that way. Nor would any man, for that matter.

Olivia gets into the car and Damiano drives away. I allow myself a smile. Making this woman mine is going to be even more fun than I thought.