Page 86 of Jewel of the Assassin

“Hmm…” I run my fingers through the ends of his hair, more of a platinum blonde to my glittery golden. “I don’t suppose you are going to tell me where?”

He shakes his head with a dark chuckle. “No. I will not spoil the surprise, Moya Samotsvet.Now, take off the gown.Slowly.”

My breath hitches as Roman walks with purpose to the other side of the room and sits down in the black leather chair, elbow propped on the armrest, fist to his jaw. Keen to watch.

Smiling seductively, I take everything off one by one, starting with the mask. When I finish with the thong and toss it aside, I lay the gown carefully on the bed before reaching for my day clothes.

“Not yet.”

Roman’s deep, predatory voice sends a shivering chill up my spine, and wet heat coiling in my core. I feel the flush erupt in my chest, radiating into my breasts. My nipples stiffen into hard buds.

“Come here,” he commands like the king he is.

Without hesitation, I turn around, clasp my hands in front of me, and make my way toward him, stopping inches from where he sits. His fist is still at his steel jaw, and his eyes regard me with hunger, dark and primal.

“Horosho devochka.”

Oh, God, he unlatches his belt and takes himself out, hard, raging erection. How long has he been carrying that massive hardness around? All day?

“Sit on my cock, moya zhena.”

Wetness drips down my thighs as I mount him, kneeling on his thighs before sliding down, slowly. He grips my ass, fingers digging in, holding me in place as I go down, down, down, wincing but moaning once I’m fully seated on him. My inner muscles squeeze around him, center creaming his shaft as he fills me, stretching all my walls.

He throbs inside me, but he doesn’t move. His eyes are still fixated on me. I try to wiggle a little and roll my hips, but he smacks my ass, eyes narrowing with a warning. Oh, for fuck’s sake.

As his hands knead my breasts, thumbing the nipples, I remember…the leather chair is also a recliner! I’m so going to earn a lashing for this. Likely won’t sit down for a week. But I still scramble to grab the lever and pull hard until Roman falls back, his hair thwacking his face. I’m still on top, gripping his cock with all my muscles. He flings his hair out of his face, promising punishment in that daggered glare. His eyes turn wide at the same time that I lower my head, nip his ear, and murmur, “Remember that first day? I don’t try,Moy Korol. I do.” I rise, beaming with pride but bracing myself for the hell he will inflict on me. “Finally got you on yourback.”

Roman chuffs a laugh, shaking his head and shocking me with his control. He throbs and thickens inside me. Then…he grips my hair, yanking my head back so hard, I see stars while I yelp.

“Now, I’m going to fuck you against the wall, naughty girl. Hard.”

30

If she ever learns the truth, I simply hope she will forgive my sins.

ROMAN

I’m certain my wife did not expect this.

The moment we step out onto the marble balcony, I feel her breath catch beside me.

Even behind her gilded mask, I know she’s staring—eyes wide, mouth parted just slightly in awe. When we touched down on the private airstrip earlier, she was stunned I brought her to the mainland. I saw it in the way she looked at the skyline, at the city lights of Seattle piercing the dusk like silver needles. As if it couldn’t be real. As if she never expectedmeto share this part of my world.

But this? This stuns her.

Below us, the underground opera house unfurls like a baroque fever dream. A thousand candles blaze from black iron chandeliers. Crimson drapes ripple like spilled wine across the walls. Masks glint. Gowns swirl. The entire ballroom moves like a sea of ghosts caught in golden flame.

Her fingers twitch in mine.

We wait at the top of the stairs. My gold skeletal mask moldsto my face as if forged for both war and worship. My sharp black velvet suit catches the low light like raven feathers. Blood-red embroidery coils up my lapels and cuffs.

Draped from one shoulder, my heavy cape spills behind me. The clasp is a gold skull—ornamental, yes, but it reminds them what I am beneath the silk. When I move, the lining flashes, the color of crimson ruin.

I scan the crowd. And when I extend my hand to Valentina, I am a sovereign offering her the other half of the throne.

She doesn’t speak, but she doesn’t need to. I can feel her joy radiating off her, fierce with wonder. And gods help me…it makes me proud.

I never meant to bring her this far into my world. I swore I wouldn’t. That it was too risky. That she was safer in the shadows of my island.