Page 54 of Prince of Control

I hope she finally notices his interest now that I’m not a distraction.

“Who has eyes on Lara?”

My wife has been hard to keep track of. After that kiss she gave me, I wanted nothing more than to cancel the whole party and take her upstairs to ravish her.

“I do,” Zoe says. “She’s helping me at the mocktail bar.”

The mocktail bar is one of the ways we ease the wrath of the underage students denied alcohol. We serve them in the same-sized clear plastic cups that we serve alcoholic drinks. The only difference is the color of the straw. Then we pretend we don’t know that they fill them with their own supply of alcohol.

It makes sense that Lara would end up with Zoe–it’s not like she has any friends to hang out or dance with here. I should’ve foreseen her feeling out of place and assigned her a job. Except I don’t want to be in the position of telling my wife what to do. She’s already pissed off enough about marrying me.

Although that seems to be softening a bit, praise all the powers that be.

A tiny smile curves my lips as I head toward the back door of the kitchen where they are stationed. Leo’s stationed at the main kitchen door serving alcohol drinks to party-goers wearing a wrist band. The kitchen itself is closed off to everyone else.

“Soda and lime?” Zoe asks, spotting me behind the line of people waiting to be served.

I nod. “And my wife.”

Everyone in the line turns to look at me then looks back toward Anya. I hear their murmurs:

Did he say wife?

He’s married?

“That’s me–I’m his wife,” Lara announces loudly in Russian, throwing her arms in the air.

My brilliant bride understood the assignment. The entire line of party-goers stare at her then at me as I push through and extend my hand to her.

“Come, malyshka.”

Everyone gawks when she comes out from behind the makeshift bar (a rolling butcher block cart) and takes my hand as Zoe hands me the drink.

Did you hear that? Baron Baraonov has a wife, someone says as we move away.

“Would you like to dance?”

Lara shakes her head. ”My feet hurt already. I might go up and change my shoes.”

“I’ll go with you.” I press through the throng of bodies toward the stairs, but the impact of a body hurtling to the floor to my right makes me thrust Lara behind me and charge forward in that direction.

“Stop!” A young woman screams.

It’s Lili.

Oh fuck.

Blood washes over my vision. My brain flips into warrior mode. I have to protect Lili, my little sister. Can’t let her die in a pool of blood like Valentina, our nanny.

I’m a machine, ready to battle and kill. I’ve trained every day since I was ten years old for this fight. I've combated the nightmares with strategy. I’ve become an excellent marksman, learned MMA fighting, and kept myself in perfect physical condition for any fight.

I will not stand by helplessly while someone else I love dies in a pool of their own blood.

Leo hauls the guy on the floor to his feet with lethal intent. I barrel forward to help.

“Stop, Leo!”

It’s Lili again. Why is she telling Leo to stop? I sweep in beside Leo, and the two of us drag the guy into the nearest bedroom—Phoenix’s—using my thumbprint to open the lock.