Page 21 of Ivory Ashes

Or, in the case of Queen fucking Margaret, tear it off with my teeth.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been even vaguely interested in a woman. There hasn’t been time. But now that I’m finalizing things, there’s no reason I couldn’t have a little fun before I fire her.

“You’re late.” I’m only a few steps behind her when she finally turns around.

Her eyes are emerald green in the fluorescents. I have a good view of them because they are as wide as saucers. Her skin is pale white. She wobbles on her heels like she might fall backward.

I want her. The familiar thought pangs through me the same way it has only two other times in my life.

Both times, as it turns out, for the exact same woman.

Viviana Giordano.

She exhales a single word. “Mikhail.” Her full lips wrap around my name exactly the way I remember.

She shouldn’t be here. She’s gone. I know because I’ve paid a fuck ton of money to make sure of it. I’ve had a private investigator on my personal payroll for the last six years trying to track down where this woman went and they found nothing.

Part of me was proud. I told Viviana to leave while she had the chance and she actually listened.

Another part of me has always wondered if the fact that I couldn’t find her is why she pops up in my thoughts so often. I’m used to getting exactly what I want in life. Not being able to find her was unusual.

Humans long for what they can’t have. That’s all it is. That’s what I told myself on those endless, sleepless nights.

But here she is in front of me.

And I still want her.

“What are you doing here?”

Her eyes dart around like she’s looking for the eject button. Her hands are knotted into fists at her side.

The last time we saw each other was a little unconventional, but she shouldn’t be this nervous. I never hurt her. Quite the opposite, actually.

I take a step closer. “Viviana, what?—”

Suddenly, she shoves her hand at me, a paper-thin smile plastered on her face. “Margaret. I’m Margaret. Nice to meet you.”

My gaze flicks from her hand to her face. There’s a sheen of sweat on her forehead and her hand is shaking.

She’s lying. I know she’s lying.

But I don’t know why.

Trofim is gone. She isn’t in any danger from me. What does she have to hide?

I grab her hand and hold it, running my thumb over the soft inside of her wrist. Her throat bobs and I remember what it felt like under my palm. The way her pulse fluttered in my hand. I bet her heart is pounding just as hard now as it did the last time I touched her six years ago.

I know who you really are, Viviana, my thumb says, stroking over her silky skin. You can’t hide from me.

“Good. You’ve met Margaret.” Viviana jerks her hand away as a dumpy man in a wrinkled suit walks over. He steps too close to her, the tip of his scuffed dress shoe covering the toe of her heel. “Mr. Novikov is looking for the keys to the kingdom, Marge. Passwords, keys, all that good stuff.”

“Marge”? Give me a fucking break.

I slide closer, forcing the imbecile back and wedging myself between them.

Viviana doesn’t want to look at me, but she doesn’t have a choice. Not unless she wants to raise more eyebrows than mine.

“I’ve been looking for you for a long time,” I murmur.

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