Page 29 of Disguised as Love

Performed by SiR

Written by Berry / Shackelford / Farris / Schoegje

I followed Raisa down the path with the sweet cinnamon-and-honey taste of her lingering on my lips. I’d kissed her, intending it to be a mere joining of mouths so that her brother, standing at one of the arched doorways at the side of the house, would think it was more. But she’d ignited in my embrace. She’d ignited, and I’d gone up with her. Flame matching flame. If her brother hadn’t joined us, I might have pulled her down on the metal bench and devoured her further until I’d discovered every nook and cranny of her mouth and body. I’d taunted her, but the truth was, the need?the absolute craving?grew from me, from deep in my gut, from places I’d never known existed.

The more time I spent with Raisa Leskov, the less ability I had to detach myself from her and the situation. It made my plans hazy, corrupting them with emotions I couldn’t afford. Plans that I knew would end violently and painfully, like any loss of focus on assignment did, and yet I still wanted to repeat the goddamn kiss.

The door we followed Malik through led into a music room, black and white and red with paintings on the walls of emperors being entertained while they lounged on thrones with careless ease. In the center of the room, acting like the showcase it was, sat a stunning Steinway & Sons grand piano in shimmery white. The underneath of the lid and the bench were both a bright, vivid red. It was breathtaking. A masterpiece. My feet stalled alongside it.

Before I could stop myself, my hand was sliding across it much like, moments ago, I’d wanted to slide my hands along the fiery blonde. When my fingers reached the keys, I hit three notes, and they crashed through the room as if amplified. As if the room had been designed specifically for the music to be heard. Crisp and clean and perfectly tuned, the notes led me to play three more, and it drew Raisa to a halt. She turned at the door to watch me with surprise written on her face.

I withdrew my fingers, shoving them into my pockets and turning my back on the magnificent instrument. Another thing I couldn’t afford. Losing myself to the keys was a sure way to block out everything around me. I needed every vein and nerve ending to be on alert, not lost in a perfect blend of harmonies or the perfect heat of the blonde in front of me.

I crossed the black marble floor to her.

“You play?” she asked, eyes darting toward the piano and back to me.

“A lifetime ago,” I told her, surprised that I let the truth slip from my lips.

Her gaze searched my face, waiting for me to expand, but I didn’t.

She turned and went down the hall to the grand entryway. There was a flurry of activity as people walked in carrying suitcases and trunks. Liola was there, looking flustered in a way I hadn’t expected the stern housekeeper to ever look.

“What’s this?” Raisa asked.

“Rurik Volkov is coming to stay? I was not made aware,” Liola growled, giving Raisa the evil eye as if she’d invited him without informing the housekeeper.

I stared at the luggage. It looked as if they were moving in.

Fuck.

Raisa’s expression tightened almost imperceptibly. She swallowed hard. “I…” Her voice disappeared. She was speechless, stunned at the audacity and power that Volkov had exhibited by not only inviting himself to their home but then all but announcing his intent to stay.

Malik appeared from nowhere, followed by a shadowy figure. As the man came into view, I realized it was Isamu Yano. Black hair shorn almost completely off, black glasses hiding his dark-brown eyes, and a suit that cost more than my entire salary for a year cloaking his body. He was hardly a bulky figure, lithe even though he had muscles, but he looked like a professional wrestler compared to the skinny frame of Malik Leskov. It was the first time anyone but Kaida Ito had set eyes on him since San Francisco, eighteen months ago. He definitely didn’t look like he’d been in hiding. He looked confident and sure. It had to have been pissing Ito-san off that he was thriving after murdering her father. I suddenly felt empathy for her. An urge to see the smug expression wiped off his face filled me.

“What the hell is this?” Malik demanded of Liola and the staff carrying the luggage.

“Volkov,” Raisa barely got out.

Malik’s eyes narrowed. “You should have fucking told him no.”

“I did!” Raisa insisted just as I said, “She did.”

Malik’s eyes drifted from Raisa to me, the sneer turning for a moment into panic before Yano stepped up and put a hand on his shoulder.

“This is a good thing,” Yano said, his voice oily and comforting, as if soothing a child having a temper tantrum. My skin peppered with goosebumps.

“How the fuck is that man making himself comfortable in my home a good thing?!”

“He’ll be here,” Yano said quietly. “Which means he won’t be elsewhere.”

Malik stilled, his gaze darting around the room at all the bodies who’d just heard Yano’s assertion. They had plans in the works that I damned well needed to figure out.

Malik approached Liola and pointed a finger at her. “Don’t you dare set him up anywhere but the far wing. Do you understand me? If he ends up elsewhere, you’re fired.”

Liola pulled her shoulders back.

“Malik!” Raisa scolded. “Liola has been with our family our entire lives. Don’t threaten her.”

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