Page 5

5

TASH

I lean against Sofia’s pristine marble counter, swirling my wine glass. “I can’t believe you invited the brothers. This was supposed to be our girl time.”

Sofia pulls fresh bread from the oven, the scent of rosemary filling the kitchen. “They’re family now.”

“Family who probably have their own homes to haunt.” I take a long sip of the cabernet. “And speaking of haunting, how’s the honeymoon phase? Still christening every surface?”

A blush creeps up Sofia’s neck as she arranges the bread in a basket. “Tash!”

“What? That flush tells me everything. Look at you, all domestic goddess meets sex kitten.” I hip-check her as I pass. “Never thought I’d see the day Sofia Henley would be playing house.”

“It’s different with him.” She pauses, knife hovering over a block of cheese. “Everything’s different.”

“Oh honey, I know. The way that man looks at you...” I fan myself dramatically. “Like he wants to devour you whole.”

Sofia throws a kitchen towel at my head. “As if you haven’t noticed how Dmitri watches you.”

“We’re not discussing that particular devil.” I steal a slice of cheese. “This is about you and your insatiable Russian.”

“He’s not insatiable.” She bites her lip, fighting a smile. “He’s just... thorough.”

“Thorough?” I nearly choke on my wine. “Is that what we’re calling it now? Because those marks peeking out from your collar tell a different story.”

Sofia’s hand flies to her neck, eyes widening. “Are they visible?”

“Only to someone who knows where to look.” I top off both our glasses. “But seriously, you’re happy?”

“Deliriously.” Her whole face softens. “Even with the complicated parts.”

“Good. You deserve it.” I raise my glass. “Though next time, warn a girl before inviting a hoard of Russian businessmen to dinner.”

“Ladies, the natives are getting restless out there.” Alexi saunters into the kitchen, all lean grace and mischief. “Need a hand? Or just hiding from certain individuals?”

I shoot him a glare. “We’re not hiding. We’re preparing.”

He snags a chunk of aged gouda, popping it into his mouth. “Preparing, avoiding... such a fine line.” His green eyes dance with amusement. “Especially since my dear brother just arrived.”

“Don’t you have some system to hack?” I turn my back on him, arranging crackers more forcefully than necessary.

“And miss this entertainment?” He leans against the counter. “Never. The sexual tension between you two is better than any soap opera.”

Sofia tries to hide her smile behind her wine glass. Traitor.

“There is no tension,” I snap. “Sexual or otherwise.”

“Sure.” Alexi winks, stealing another piece of cheese. “That’s why you both circle each other like hungry wolves. Very tension-free.”

“Out!” I point toward the door. “Before I tell Nikolai about that thing with his laptop.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” But he’s already backing away, hands raised in mock surrender. “Fine, I’ll leave you to your ‘preparing.’ But don’t blame me when he comes looking.”

The moment he’s gone, I slump against the counter. “I swear, your brother-in-law is impossible.”

“He means well,” Sofia says. “And he’s not entirely wrong about?—”

“Don’t. Just don’t.” I rub my temples. “Dmitri Ivanov is the last thing I need in my life. He’s arrogant, controlling, and thinks everything’s for sale. Including people.”

“Who thinks everything’s for sale?”

My blood freezes. That deep, accented voice can only belong to one person. I turn slowly to find Dmitri filling the kitchen doorway, his glacier-blue eyes locked on mine.

“How long have you been standing there?” My voice comes out embarrassingly weak.

“Long enough.” His lips curve into a devastating smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Please, don’t let me interrupt. You were saying something about arrogant and controlling?”

My face burns as Sofia swoops in, ever the graceful hostess. “Perfect timing! Everything’s ready. Shall we move to the dining room?” She shoots me a sympathetic look while gathering the cheese board.

“Here, let me help.” I reach for the wine bottles, desperate for any excuse to avoid Dmitri’s piercing stare.

“I’ve got those.” Dmitri’s fingers brush mine as he takes the bottles, sending an unwanted shiver through me. “You focus on not dropping anything while avoiding me.”

“I’m not—” I start, but Sofia cuts me off.

“The table’s all set. Dmitri, would you mind opening these?” She gestures to the wine. “Tash, bring the bread?”

I grab the basket and follow them into the formal dining room. The long mahogany table gleams under crystal chandeliers, set for an intimate dinner of six. My steps falter as I notice the place cards. Sofia’s put me right next to Dmitri.

“Really?” I mutter under my breath as I pass her.

She shrugs, not looking the least bit apologetic. “You’re both adults. Play nice.”

I slide into my seat, hyper-aware of Dmitri settling beside me. His cologne is so masculine, and it wraps around me like a sensual fog. I reach for my wine glass, needing liquid courage.

“Allow me.” Dmitri’s voice rumbles low as he pours deep red wine into my glass.

I watch the brothers settle into their seats, their easy familiarity starkly contrasting the tension thrumming through my body. I’m not used to this kind of casual familiarity. My family are as formal as you get. Nikolai takes his place at the head of the table, Sofia at his right, their fingers intertwined on the tablecloth.

“So, Alexi,” Erik’s deep voice breaks the silence. “Are you still terrorizing the IT department?”

“Please, they love me.” Alexi sprawls in his chair. “I only crash their systems when they deserve it.”

“Which is daily,” Dmitri drawls beside me, his knee brushing mine under the table. I shift away, but there’s nowhere to go.

“Not everyone appreciates my creative approach to network security.” Alexi snags a piece of bread. “Unlike Dmitri’s creative approach to board meetings.”

I stiffen, but Dmitri just chuckles. “At least I show up to meetings. Unlike someone who thinks hacking in remotely counts as attendance.”

“Boys,” Sofia interjects, passing the salad. “Let’s not rehash old arguments.”

“Where’s the fun in that, malishka ?” Nikolai kisses her hand. “Besides, Natasha hasn’t heard all our best stories yet.”

“And she doesn’t need to,” I mutter, but Erik catches it.

“Oh, I think she does.” His eyes crinkle with rare humor. “Like the time Dmitri reprogrammed Alexi’s entire system to speak only in Shakespeare quotes.”

“That was you?” Alexi points his fork accusingly at Dmitri. “I spent three days debugging that!”

Despite myself, I laugh. “Seriously?”

“He had it coming.” Dmitri’s shoulder brushes mine as he reaches for the wine. “He changed all my spreadsheets to Comic Sans.”

“The font of kings,” Alexi declares solemnly, making Sofia giggle.

The conversation flows easier after that, with stories and jokes passing back and forth across the table. I find myself relaxing incrementally, drawn into their dynamic despite my reservations. A small amount of jealousy blossoms in the pit of my stomach seeing what Sofia has found here as she easily fits into their dynamic. Could I fit in also with Dmitri? I almost shake my head to myself as the idea is ridiculous. However, even Dmitri seems less intimidating when trading barbs with his brothers, though I’m acutely aware of his presence beside me.

I slip away from the dining room, needing space from Dmitri’s overwhelming presence and my thoughts about somehow fitting into his family when I categorically dislike him. The kitchen’s cool air hits my flushed skin as I head for the wine rack. My mind is miles away as I scan the labels.

“The ’82 Bordeaux.” Dmitri’s voice makes me jump. “Third shelf.”

I spin around, nearly dropping the bottle I’m holding. “Do you always sneak up on people?”

“Only when they’re running away.” He moves closer, reaching past me for a corkscrew. His chest brushes my shoulder.

“I’m not running.” I step sideways, creating distance. “I’m getting more wine.”

“Of course.” He takes the bottle from my hands, his fingers lingering against mine. “Nothing to do with avoiding me.”

“Not everything revolves around you.” But my voice lacks bite.

He studies me while opening the wine, his movements precise and controlled. “Tell me something true, Natasha.”

"What?"

“One honest thing. No deflection, no sharp comments.” He sets the bottle down. “Just truth.”

I meet his eyes, surprised by the genuine interest there. “I... I’m scared.”

"Of me?"

“Of what you represent.” The words spill out before I can stop them. “Power, control, danger. Everything I shouldn’t want.”

He steps closer, his hand coming up to brush my cheek. “And what do you want?”

My breath catches. An electric tension fills the space between us as his thumb traces my bottom lip.

“I don’t know anymore,” I whisper.

His gaze turns stormy as he leans in?—

“Hey, where’s that wine?” Alexi’s voice shatters the moment. “Some of us are dying of thirst out here!”

I jerk back, my heart pounding. Dmitri’s jaw clenches as he grabs the bottle.

“Coming,” he calls, never taking his eyes off me. “We’re not finished here.”

The moment Dmitri leaves, my knees give out, and I sink against the counter, pressing my forehead against the cool marble.

“Get it together,” I mutter. “He’s just another rich asshole who thinks he owns the world.”

But the lingering warmth of his thumb on my lip says otherwise. I can still smell his cologne and feel the electricity crackling between us. My whole body hums with awareness, and I hate myself for it.

“This is exactly what he wants.” I straighten up, smoothing my dress. “He’s used to people falling at his feet, swooning over his perfect suits and that stupid accent.”

God, what is wrong with me? I’ve dealt with powerful men before. Half of my job is schmoozing with entitled collectors who think their bank accounts make them irresistible.

But Dmitri... he’s different. He doesn’t just want to possess art or status. He wants to possess people. To own them completely. I’ve seen how the staff at his companies look at him with fear and devotion.

“And you’re acting just like them,” I scold my reflection in the window. “Getting weak-kneed over a few intense looks and some calculated touches.”

My cheeks feel warm as I remember how close he stood and how his eyes darkened when I admitted being scared. He probably got off on that, having another silly woman tremble at his feet.

I grab a fresh glass of water and gulp it down. The cool liquid helps clear my head but doesn’t wash away the lingering heat under my skin.

“Arrogant, manipulative bastard,” I whisper, but the words lack conviction. Because deep down, in places I don’t want to examine, I know it’s not just his arrogance that affects me. It’s the glimpses of something honest beneath that perfectly controlled exterior.