Page 45 of Seduction (Wicked Vows)

“Hello, Father.” I give him a small, tight smile, which he doesn’t even see because he’s too busy looking around, more concerned with being seen by whatever social circle he’s in than engaging with his daughter.

“How are you?” he asks, kissing both cheeks before reaching to shake Markov’s hand. A wave of cloying, expensive cologne consumes me. My stomach roils.

“And you’re Markov,” he states. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Markov scowls at him, even though he shakes his hand. “Pleased to meet you, sir.” I silently fist-bump him. He is absolutely not going to play a part to please my father.

“And how is everything going at your. . . your program?” my father asks.

“Markov, join us.” It’s unusual for a bodyguard to join us for dinner, so I’m not sure what my father’s planning.

“Oh, things are going well. I’ve been working alongside Professor Morozov. He’s world-renowned for his leading research on the advances made against biological threats. We actually had a simulation today.”

“Oh good, good,” my father says placatingly. He hasn’t heard a word I said.

I wink at Markov behind my father’s back as he arranges for us to have a seat inside.

“We were able to extract DNA from monkeys to cross-breed them with the African elephant with much success. We’ll be able to market our new breed to upcoming entrepreneurs within three years. They’ll be able to climb high trees while maintaining the status as the largest land animal on earth.”

“Is that right?” my father asks, following the waitress toward our table, a circular one at the way back, clearly reserved for VIP guests only. “Fascinating.”

He’s still not listening to a damn thing I say. Ugh. I grit my teeth and go on, making it more ridiculous.

“Mmm,” I say. “Quite. They’ll subsist on a diet that would be far too pricy for the average consumer, but perhaps some of the elite would find a way.” I give him a huge smile. Under the table, Markov pinches my thigh to remind me to behave. I turn and look at him while my father peruses the wine menu and shake my head at him. He narrows his eyes and makes a subtle swinging motion with his palm. Good. I hope he spanks me tonight. Might calm me down after all this nonsense.

“So proud of you, Vera. You always were exceptionally brilliant.” He looks up and winks widely at Markov. “For a woman, am I right? Do what you can, love, before you have to take maternity leave.”

He laughs loudly at his own joke, but I’m pleased to see Markov actually looks horrified. He quickly schools his features, though. “Actually, sir, I don’t believe brilliance is confined to gender. In the short time I’ve witnessed Vera’s accomplishments, I have to say her abilities are at a level and intensity that outshines all her peers. She’s earned that scholarship.” He smiles, and it sort of chills me. He says something to my father in Russian that I don’t understand, then decidedly ignores the glare I give him for freezing me out of the conversation.

My father smiles and looks thoughtful, then nods and responds in Russian. What the hell? I plunk my menu down.

Another warning squeeze of my knee has me immediately wet. Ugh. He can’t turn me on in here. It’s completely inappropriate.

As my father scans the restaurant, I sneak a glance at Markov, who is staring hard at his phone, deeply concentrating, it seems.

“I don’t mean to insult you, Vera,” my father says with what appears to be genuine kindness. I know better. “I just don’t know why you’re putting so much time and effort into your studies when you know the expectations of marrying and settling down are likely your lot in life.”

My cheeks color. I hate how easily I give myself away by blushing, but I’ve never managed to figure out how not to.

“In the modern age, women do both, Father.”

My father snorts, but Markov speaks up. “In my family, we have two women who are unparalleled with their skills. One is exceptionally brilliant with cyber security, while the other’s a marksman like no other.”

“I hear you’re quite skilled yourself with a weapon?” my father asks. “I’d like to see that sometime.”

A waiter appears out of nowhere and brings my father a bottle of wine. He makes a big show of tasting it and pouring it into wine glasses. Still, I take the glass gratefully.

The two of them continue their conversation in Russian for a few moments until Markov looks at me. “Vera doesn’t speak Russian yet,” he says. “We should continue in English.”

My father gives me a look of disdain. “That’s her mother’s fault,” he says, his cheeks flushed already from the effects of the wine and likely something more. He took it as a matter of personal injury that my mother wouldn’t have him back after he cheated on her my entire childhood. She stayed with him, but I knew she had no choice. A woman does not divorce her Bratva husband, especially one whose entire world revolves around his self-image.

I decide instead of discussing my own work, which he’s disinterested in any way, to steer the conversation back to my father’s favorite topic of conversation—him. “Tell me what brings you to Moscow this time, Father.”

He sits up straighter and nods to Markov. “I had business with Markov’s aunt. She unfortunately couldn’t join us for dinner this evening due to a previous engagement and sends her well wishes to you, Vera. She says she hopes to meet you in the near future.”

I stare at my father, uncomprehending at first. How is he so cavalier about his infidelity?

“Who is she?” I ask, my voice dangerously low. “A young little something you picked up on one of your latest travels to a foreign land? Someone who didn’t know you were married with children?”

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