Page 8 of Mikhail Petrov

I plaster on a fake smile. I can play his game.

“Don’t worry, nothing’s changed, Mikki,” I say, throwing his nickname back at him. “You should stay. Rodri is coming over later. In the meantime, we can hang by the pool. You know, like old times.”

With that, I slide off the stool, grazing his body in the process, and pull the t-shirt up over my head. I couldn’t have picked a better morning to wear this tiny white bikini. As I stroll to the sliding glass doors leading to the pool, I cast a glance over my shoulder and catch him eye- fucking my ass.

Thong for the win.

CHAPTER 4

MIKHAIL

Two Weeks Later

The Castellanos’ front gate slides open as I drive through for the fourth time this week. I paced my living this morning like a fucking jackass, trying to come up with an excuse to see her. The times I’ve visited since Rodrigo moved out were limited to special occasions or a rare meeting with Emilio. Justifying my frequent visits these last fourteen days has become a daily challenge. But I can’t help myself. The need to see and be around her is far greater than my pride.

So when she texted me this morning to ask for help with moving her things to the suite above the pool house, I couldn’t jump in my car fast enough. I’m not sure what’s happening, and I’m probably not helping the situation by failing to keep my distance, but the more time I spend with Leah, the harder it is to give a damn.

“Mikhail.”

Emilio’s tone is curt. He’s never been one to offer affection to those outside of his circle, so it doesn’t come as a surprise. But there’s an extra bite to the way he grits out my name. And I don’t miss the tension in his shoulders as he stands in the doorway, like a blockade. While we’ve been associates for eight years, our relationship is brittle and based solely on mutual ambition and power.

“Emilio,” I reply with a nod.

“I’d say it’s a surprise to see you here again, but I’m almost starting to expect your car pulling into my drive more than not.”

“Leah asked me to help with the move.” I lean on the door frame and fold my arms.

“Of course she did,” he replies, narrowing his eyes and glancing around the foyer. “Look, I’m not stupid. I don’t like to be taken as a fool. I don’t know your intentions, but I suggest you rethink what you’re getting yourself into.”

I rub a hand over my chin, unable to hide the smirk stretching across my face. The unspoken threat behind his words is loud and clear, but surely, he forgets who he’s speaking to. I’m a fucking Petrov, and men lose their heads for smaller acts of disrespect.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” I say, calling his bluff.

He scoffs. “Leah is not for you, Mikhail. I won’t say it twice because the day I let my youngest daughter be turned into a whore by some Russian scum, it will be over my dead body.”

I clench my fists. He doesn’t realize how quickly that can be arranged.

“Is that right?”

A devious grin splits his face. “I have plans for her. Men worthy of a queen.”

My chest tightens as every cell in my body revolts against the idea of another man touching what’s mine.

Mine.

It hits me with the force of a nuclear explosion.

Leah is mine.

The affection I’ve always held for her has shifted into something more these past few weeks.

Maybe from the moment I picked her up off that goddamn highway.

Like an act of fucking fate.

“I heard through the grapevine that your father has similar plans for you. Celeste, is it?”

Ice chills my veins at the mention of her name, and I suck in a breath, stepping forward and feeling reckless, but another voice eases the suffocating tension.

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