Page 11 of Sin in My Inbox (Sexting Spark #1)

I turned to get a good look at Ella's face—flushed cheeks, lashes trembling, but her eyes were blazing. She must've picked up on my irritation, and that sharp little brain of hers, paired with her cute-as-hell attitude, warmed something in my chest. All my annoyance melted away in that moment.

I couldn't hold it in anymore. A low chuckle rumbled out of me.

Right there, in front of everyone, I slid my arm around her slim waist, pulling her tight against my side until there wasn't an inch of space between us.

I could feel the warmth of her body, the soft curve of her figure through that thin velvet dress.

"You heard her," I said, my gaze sweeping over the women, whose faces were now sour as hell. My smile stayed, but my eyes went cold, carrying that quiet menace I'm known for. "Tonight, I'm all hers."

The air around us seemed to freeze. Those high-society types, with their colorful mix of pissed-off expressions, finally backed off, clearing a path.

But the warm moment didn't last. A commotion erupted across the hall, shattering the vibe. The crowd scattered, leaving an open space in the center. There he was—Vladimir Ivanov, the boss of Krovostok.

At his feet, some poor bastard was curled up, groaning, his face a mess of bruises. Vladimir's polished shoe came down lazily on the guy's fingers, and the faint crack of bone was drowned out by a blood-curdling scream that cut through the elegant music like a knife.

"Nobody talks to me like that," Vladimir said, calm as you please, wiping blood off his hands with a pristine white handkerchief.

Ella sucked in a sharp breath, her body going rigid. Her grip on my arm tightened so hard her nails were digging into my suit. Her face was pale, eyes wide with raw fear and disbelief. I could feel her trembling.

Vladimir tossed the bloody handkerchief like it was nothing, his murky eyes cutting through the crowd to land on me. His lips curled into a cold, fake-ass smile as he sauntered over, each step heavy with that blood-soaked aura of his. The air felt like it was being sucked out of the room.

"Belov," he said, stopping a few steps away, his voice low and gravelly, dripping with mockery. "Fancy seeing you at a charity gig." His gaze slid to Ella, sizing her up like she was something on a shelf.

"Vladimir," I replied, my face blank, my arm steady around Ella's shaking waist. "It's been a while. Still cleaning up your messes the old-fashioned way, I see." My eyes flicked to the waiter writhing on the floor.

He let out a cold snort, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "Some trash needs taking out quick. Like those little problems you've been having lately? Heard a few of your best guys had some... bad luck. Docks, warehouses—accidents happen, don't they?"

His words hit like a wave of ice, confirming what I'd already suspected. He knew too much about our business. My blood ran cold, but I kept my face blank.

Vladimir leaned in closer, that fake smile deepening. "Given your health condition, Dmitri, I'd suggest laying low. Too much action only brings more accidents. Dial it back—for your sake and for the pretty little thing on your arm." His eyes flicked to Ella again.

My expression hardened. Nobody had ever dared bring that up to my face. Vladimir and I had never been buddies, but we'd kept things civil—until now. This blatant show of teeth, this open threat, reeked of trouble.

The silence was suffocating, but then Ella—God bless her—snorted. A bright, clear sound that shattered the tension. She covered her mouth, her eyes crinkling with an almost innocent grin.

Vladimir's fake smile froze, his eyes turning to poison darts aimed at her. I shot her a look, just as stunned.

She didn't flinch, meeting his gaze head-on with those clear, fearless eyes.

"Oh, sorry for interrupting," she said, her tone sweet but laced with sass, "but Dmitri's health?

Sounds like your intel's off. He's got way too much energy for me to keep up with.

" Her voice carried just enough to reach the nosy crowd, who were eating this up .

A few gasps and stifled laughs broke out around us.

Surprisingly, Vladimir didn't lose his shit.

He just stared at Ella, his old, murky eyes swirling with something unreadable.

After a long few seconds, he shifted his gaze back to me.

"Looks like you've got yourself a feisty little pet, Belov," he said with a cold smirk, giving Ella one last look before turning and walking away.

The air lightened, but the tension didn't fully fade.

Ella bit her lip, her lashes fluttering nervously.

That bold-as-hell courage of hers was gone, replaced by a shaky, "Holy shit, did I really just say that?

" she muttered under her breath, patting her chest like she was trying to calm her racing heart.

The soft strains of a waltz started up again. I looked down at her, my voice low but oddly gentle. "Dance with me?" I held out my hand, palm up.

Ella blinked, her amber eyes meeting mine, a mix of hesitation, confusion, and leftover adrenaline swirling in them. Slowly, she placed her cool hand in mine. "Okay," she whispered.

I led her to the dance floor, one hand steady on her slim waist, the other holding hers. She was still a little stiff, but as the music flowed, she started to relax, following my lead. Her red dress swayed like ripples in water, the chandelier light catching in her eyes like sparks.

She looked up at me, her gaze full of questions, her brow creasing slightly. Finally, she couldn't hold it in anymore. "Tell me, Dmitri," she said, her voice soft but firm. "Who are you?"