Page 32 of Disguised as Love

“Play me another one,” she demanded.

And Lord help me, I couldn’t stop myself from acquiescing.

I picked another of Mom’s sultry songs, talking about the way skin moved along skin. How hearts pounded when joined together. How the scent of the other human being was embedded into you as you collided. I’d understood it but never felt it before. The actions of lovemaking had always been perfunctory to me, simply a need that was fulfilled. The satisfaction that came from the action like eating a meal when hungry. A good meal, one you’d pay heavily for, but not one you’d travel halfway around the world to experience again. Mom’s song about making love had an intensity to it, as if you’d never survive if you didn’t slide together one more time.

After tasting Raisa Leskov, it was almost impossible to imagine not tasting her again, not experiencing more. The desire to make her breathless, to hear her call my name in a throaty whisper that begged for relief, found its way to my hands and the keys.

“Ah, here you are,” a male voice speaking Russian brought me back to reality. To the fact that I was in the lion’s den and had lost myself in music and Raisa for the second time in a handful of hours. Stupid. Risky.

These were all the reasons I needed to fucking get on a plane and leave while also being all the reasons I wouldn’t.

Raisa

DAMAGE

“Open with me, oh, we could be honest,

Closer to me, oh, giving me solace.

Promise that you won’t let me fall.”

Performed by H.E.R.

Written by Clemons / Wilson / Harris / Lewis / Thomas

His voice caused my body, that had been soft and warm from the music flowing beneath Cruz’s sturdy hands, to bristle. A shiver went up my back that I tried to hide. Cruz’s hands flexed, and all I could think about was how strong they’d felt on my body this afternoon. How I’d wanted to stay in his embrace. How, whenever I’d been tucked up against him in the last two days, I’d felt a safety I’d never felt with anyone?maybe not even my father?and shouldn’t have felt with the enemy.

The blond-haired, blue-eyed asshole easing his way across the room filled me with the complete opposite emotions. Despite the fact that he should have been considered pretty much family, one look from him made me want to run. To seek cover while fearing he’d chase me. Hunt me down. He leaned casually on the corner of the piano, so close his leg brushed mine.

“It’s been a long time,” he said. “No kiss for an old friend?”

I wanted to throw up. He was not a friend. My silence caused his lips to tilt upward as if it was funny that I was speechless. It allowed my anger to flare, replacing some of the fear but not banishing it entirely.

“Damien,” I greeted, hoping I sounded cold and unaffected.

His eyes slid down me, lingering on my chest and the hem of my skirt. It made me feel like I was fifteen again, in nothing but a bikini as he tried to consume me.

“Father asked that I come and find you,” he said, speaking in Russian, purposefully excluding Malone from the conversation. “I’d hoped we’d have a moment to ourselves before I took you to him.”

His eyes shifted to Malone and back as if he was nothing, a bug to bat away. But his words were also high-handed, as if we were the wayward guests at his house, having to be recalled from slinking away.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” I said, trying to steel my voice.

He scoffed. “Please. We’ve put that behind us, haven’t we?”

My eyes slid to the scar at his temple—the scar I was responsible for. My heartbeat was erratic as memories flooded me. His body on top of me. The utter helplessness I’d felt until my eyes and hand had landed on the lead crystal vase. The panic I’d felt when I’d thought I’d killed him.

Seeing where my gaze had strayed, his smile widened. It wasn’t friendly. It was cold and cruel. Like his father’s.

“I do have some favors to return, don’t I?” he said, voice silky with threat.

Cruz wrapped his arm around my waist, drawing me nearer to him on the bench. “I’m Antonne. And you are?”

Damien’s eyes were slow to move from me to Cruz. “I know who you are, Woods. The display you put on for us today, breaking Gennady’s nose, made sure we all knew. But that was the point, wasn’t it?”

My breath caught. Cruz had broken Gennady’s nose? While I’d waited in the lobby of Rurik’s building? Shit. Shit. Shit.

Cruz’s hand found mine as he rose from the bench and helped me to my feet.

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