Page 12

I stand at the edge of the ballroom, my gaze sweeping over the sea of designer gowns and tuxedos.

The clinking of champagne glasses and the hum of polite conversation fill the air, but it all fades into white noise as impatience claws at my insides.

Another dull gathering of the city's elite, pretending to care about each other's trivial lives.

But I'm not here for them. I'm here for the Letvins.

My eyes flicker to the entrance every few seconds, eager for a glimpse of the one man who gets under my skin like no other.

I tap my fingers against my thigh, the rhythm mirroring the ticking clock in my head.

Come on, where are you?

And where the hell is Quinn?

Letvin needs to see us both together when he arrives.

My heart races. What if Letvin intercepted her?

My men outside are watching for her arrival, but what if they missed something and she’s in danger?

Just as I'm on the verge of losing my last shred of self-control over my spiraling thoughts, the room falls silent. Heads turn toward the entrance, and I follow their gaze.

And there she is. Quinn Desmond.

She stands at the top of the stairs, a vision in black satin. The dress clings to her curves like water, the low cut revealing an enticing glimpse of her creamy skin. A slit runs up the side, teasing at the length of her toned leg with every step.

I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. I've seen her before, but never like this.

Never with her hair cascading down her back in loose waves, never with her lips painted a sinful shade of red.

She's breathtaking.

Every eye in the room is on her as she descends the stairs, her heels clicking against the marble. I can't look away, can't tear my gaze from the way her dress shimmers under the chandeliers and how her hips sway with each step.

She's a goddess among mortals, and I'm not the only one who notices. Whispers follow her path, men lean in to get a better look, and women eye her with envy.

And then her eyes meet mine.

Green. They're a vivid, piercing green that cuts through the crowd and straight into my soul.

For a moment, I forget how to breathe, how to think.

All I know is that I need to be closer to her, to feel the heat of her skin against mine, to taste those tempting lips.

But I can't. Not without reason, not without scaring her off.

I force myself to look away, then meet her gaze again.

And when I do, she’s watching me like a hawk.

I have a feeling this party just got a whole lot more interesting.

The crowd parts like the Red Sea as Quinn makes her way toward me, her hips swaying. She is aware of the effect she has on every man in this room, myself included, and she isn’t afraid to use it to her advantage.

I can't take my eyes off her, even as I feel the lingering stares of men flicking to me, wondering who has her attention.

They all desire her, and it pierces me with a peculiar jealousy, but she's only got eyes for me, and that calms my nerves.

“Do I look alright?” Her voice is like honey, sweet and smooth and teasing.

She knows she looks insanely beautiful, sexy, stunning.

“Dazzling,” I flash her my trademark grin, the one that's charmed countless women into my bed.

But Quinn isn't just any woman. She's a challenge.

She raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, her lips curving into a smirk.

“Oh, good. I was worried I might not fit in.”

Liar.

She smiles at me. “So, how boring is this party exactly?” she whispers, inching closer.

“Boring enough, but it might get interesting soon.”

“Why’s that?”

“Believe it or not, I find your company enlightening.”

“Oh, I might need a drink to register the praises you might accidentally send my way,” she says sassily and spins on her heel.

She's not going to make this evening easy for me, I can already tell.

As Quinn turns to leave, I instinctively reach out and grasp her wrist, the heat of her skin searing into my palm. She freezes, her eyes widening as they connect with mine. The air between us crackles with tension, and I can feel the pulse beneath my fingers quickening.

“Not so fast, Desmond,” I murmur, my voice low and dangerous. “We're not done here.”

She arches a brow, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of her mouth. “Oh? And what else did you have in mind, Zolotov?”

I tug her closer, our bodies nearly touching. The scent of her perfume wraps around me, intoxicating and alluring. “A dance,” I say, my gaze locked on hers. “You and me, right now.”

Quinn hesitates, her eyes searching mine. I can see the internal battle raging within her, the desire to give in warring with her stubborn determination to resist me. “I don't think that's a good idea,” she whispers, but her body betrays her, swaying slightly toward me.

“Afraid you can't handle it?” I challenge, my lips curving into a smirk.

Her eyes flash with indignation, and I know I've hit a nerve. “I'm not afraid of anything,” she hisses, her free hand coming up to rest on my chest. “Least of all you.”

“Prove it with a dance. We have to show people we’re together, remember?”

I let go of her wrist and reach out my hand, an invitation and a challenge all in one. She gazes at it for a prolonged moment, her chest rising and falling with each quickened breath. Then, with a bold lift of her chin, she places her hand in mine.

As I lead her onto the dance floor, I can feel the eyes of the room on us, curious and speculative. But I don't care.

All that matters is the woman in my arms and the fire burning between us.

We move together, our bodies in sync despite the tension.

Her hand rests on my shoulder, and mine on her waist, the satin dress smooth beneath my palm.

The heat of her skin ignites a fire within me, threatening to consume us both.

Quinn follows my lead with ease, her movements graceful and fluid.

Yet there's a noticeable distance between us, a deliberate space that signals her resistance. She’s determined to stay in control, to show she’s unaffected by my closeness. But I can see the flush creeping up her neck and feel the rapid flutter of her pulse.

Around us, the whispers grow louder and the glances become more pointed. I catch snippets of conversation—speculation about the notorious playboy and the beautiful stranger in his arms. Quinn tenses, her steps faltering as she realizes the attention we're attracting.

I twirl her out and back in, her back to me, before waltzing to the front.

My eyes linger on hers, but hers dart around the room nervously.

“Why are they all staring at us?” she asks, her voice tight.

“It's like they've never seen two people dance before.”

I pull her a fraction closer.

To help her relax, I try to tease her a bit.

“Maybe they’re wondering what a wonderful woman like you is doing with a man like me.”

My little quip works for she relaxes a little with a chuckle.

“They might be right about that.”

“Or,” I suggest, “they’re probably assessing us as a couple.”

“Assessing us?” Her eyes widen at my comment.

“Uh-huh.” I give her a playful wink.

“We haven’t even kissed as yet. Right about now, some of those men are placing bets on which one of us wants out of this relationship. We’re missing the steamy passion these folks love to lap up.”

She shivers, her fingers curling into the fabric of my suit jacket.

“I'm not here to be a spectacle, but are you suggesting we kiss?” she retorts, but there's a breathlessness to her words.

“Then why are you here?

” I challenge, my hand sliding lower on her back, edging toward dangerous territory.

“Why agree to make people believe we’re together, knowing the risks?”

Her eyes meet mine, green and gold and full of thoughts I can’t pry out.

And then, to my surprise, her lips curve into a smile that borders on a warning.

“Fine. We can put on the show they so want.”

I grin, the thrill of this turn of events coursing through my veins.

I had only teased her to help her calm down, but this outcome is more than I hoped for.

“Be careful what you wish for, Quinn. You might just get more than you bargained for.”

“I doubt it,” she whispers, leaning up and whispering in my ears, before bringing her face an inch away from mine.

I let my hand drift lower on her back, savoring the way her breath hitches at my touch.

She leans in closer, her lips just a hair's breadth from mine. The world around us fades away, with the music and the crowd becoming little more than background noise.

Right now, there is only Quinn—the scent of her perfume, the warmth of her skin, the tantalizing promise of her lips so near to mine. I feel the anticipation rising, the desire to claim her, to make her mine.

My fingers tighten around her waist, pulling her flush against me. Her hands glide up my chest, coming to rest on my shoulders. We're so close now, our breaths mingling, our heartbeats racing in tandem.

I chide myself. It’s all pretend.

Get it over with. Don’t stumble in the process.

But gods, I can’t wait to kiss her.

I close the final distance between us, capturing her lips with mine in a perfunctory kiss.

I’m gentle at first, quickly pulling away to see how she feels, but when she reaches for me again, I close the distance.

Her lips are soft and pliant under mine, and I can't help but deepen the kiss, my tongue sweeping into her mouth to taste her. She’s gentle yet so soft. But god, how she sears through my soul. I moan, losing myself in the moment, and pull her body closer by pressing against her lower back.

She responds with equal fervor, her fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me closer. It's electric, the way our bodies fit together, the way she arches into me like she can't get close enough. It makes me forget that this is all for show, makes me lose all fucking control.

I lose myself in the feel of her, the way her curves press against my hard planes, the little sounds she makes in the back of her throat. I want to devour her, to claim every inch of her until there's no doubt that she belongs to me.

I want to rip those clothes off her back, hear what other sounds she makes as I drive into her and fuck her senseless.

My entire body is alive, and my mind conjures fantasies I slowly lose control of.

But as I drown in the taste of her, in the fire she's ignited under my skin, the song changes, and a small part of my brain reminds me where we are. We're in the middle of a crowded ballroom, surrounded by people who are no doubt watching our every move.

I try to pull back, to regain some semblance of control, but Quinn chases my mouth, her teeth catching my bottom lip in a way that makes me groan.

It takes every ounce of willpower I possess to gentle the kiss, to ease us back from the brink.

I become acutely aware of the eyes on us, whispers rippling through the room.

Quinn looks slightly dazed, her breath short and rapid, her cheeks flushed a delicate pink.

I can't help but feel a surge of male pride course through me. I did that. I made her look like that.

But it's more than just physical desire.

Something has shifted between us, the kiss serving as a catalyst, a point of no return.

We've crossed a line, and there's no going back.

The thought is both exhilarating and terrifying.

Quinn seems to sense it, too.

She glances around, her eyes widening as she takes in the curious stares and knowing smirks.

“Mark,” she whispers, her hand tightening on my arm.

Everyone's looking at us.”

“Good,” I whisper. “We need them to believe.”

God, I want to throw caution to the wind, to give in to the need pulsing through my veins. But I can't.

Not here, not like this.

If I ever did take her, it'll be on my terms, in a place where I can have her all to myself.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, before leading her off the dance floor.