Page 32 of Any Means Necessary

Instead, I hear myself say “Put on a dress, we’re going to dinner.” The words slip through the cracks in my self-control far too easily. Her face floods with surprise and confusion, but she stands to go change anyway.

Telling her to put on a dress was a mistake, one I regret as soon as she emerges in a little black number that leaves so much but very little to the imagination. Thin straps, open square neckline draping across showstopping breasts, accentuated fleshy waist. The hemline that stops just above her knees is made less modest by the slit on one side that flashes creamy thigh. Her glittery black heels click on the floor as she walks towards me, sleek ponytail tossed to one side while she struggles to clasp a gold necklace.

Fucking hell.

Not a distraction, she’s a devastation. A tornado of beautiful chaos determined to leave my life in ruins. And I’m nothing short of a storm chaser praying for disaster.

Christ.

Once the necklace is secured, she centers the pendant on her chest and looks at me—for what— approval? Running a hand over my beard, I’m staring at her. Dumbfounded, the woman has stolen all words. My breathing is uneven as I desperately grasp onto the mask of calm that’s splintering under her expectant gaze.

It’s all I can do to give her a short nod.

Stepping into the elevator, I avoid looking at her reflection as the doors close. The last thing I need is to take this meeting with a raging erection, and one glance at her like this will have me rock hard. Roscoe catches my eyes, his brows lifting to communicate that he notices my discomfort. My glower in return only feeds his amusement.

Fucker.

“Who are we going to dinner with?” Lexie asks, oblivious to our silent exchange. She fiddles with the ring she always wears on the middle finger of her left hand, twisting it in a sign of what I recognize as anxiety. She’s nervous.

“Viktor and Levi Mikhailov will be there with their wives, along with Enzo.”

The elevator stops.

Ding.

The car ride is spent in silence. Lexie taps on her phone, most likely texting her best friend, Mia. I do my best not to stare at the way her dress rides up when she crosses her legs. My eyes keep catching on thick thighs despite my best efforts.

Get it together, Russo.

I can’t show up to meet Mikhailov tripping over my hormones like some horny teenager. This dinner, despite its casual front, is crucial to the Harris job. If I can’t get Viktor’s blessing to enter his territory, it could result in a turf war I have no interest in getting involved with.

My ties to the Cosa Nostra already have Mikhailov and his Bratva roots on the fence about me. Old family feuds run deep, even now. This dinner is an active minefield. One misstep and this whole situation detonates.

Tugging at the shirt cuffs clasped at my wrists, I roll my shoulders to ease the tension settling there. The restaurant comes into view and my resolve is set firmly back into place. I’ll get what I need from Mikhailov tonight, there’s no other option.

My hand finds its way to the small of Lexie’s back when we enter The Dining Room, the heat of her body radiating through her little black dress. Enzo stands waiting at the host stand, giving Lexie an enthusiastic greeting.

“Reporting for duty, Boss,” he says to me, exaggerating his dutiful tone with a nod before his focus turns to the blonde. “And here I thought it would be a stuffy business dinner. But if you’re here, there’s hope for a good time. What a pleasant surprise.”

“Hi Enzo, it’s nice to see you again,” she replies. The fact that Enzo’s happily married doesn’t stop my fingers from flexing against Lexie’s back. Her head lifts to look up at me curiously, but I keep my eyes straight ahead.

“Mr. Russo,” The hostess steps forward to address me. “Your party is already seated and waiting for you. If you’ll just follow me.” As we follow the young woman through the restaurant, my gaze takes note of each exit, every member of staff on the floor, and each set of male eyes that follow the woman on my arm.

Viktor and Levi are seated towards the back of the restaurant, the best table in the place that seats eight with a view of the city. The Dining Room is one of the more upscale restaurants in the city, with marble floors, floor-to-ceiling windows looking over the city skyline, and a six-month reservation waitlist. This place couldn’t be more different from the seedy outdated bar Levi owns—which is exactly the point. When authorities are looking for Russian thugs, Levi’s bar is the first place they look. No one expects Viktor, the head of the Russian Bratva, to frequent a ritzy place like this, let alone own it.

“Russo,” Viktor greets with a nod to the other two men. “Who is this?” he indicates towards the woman on my arm.

“This is Lexie, she’s with me,” I state simply. “Lexie, this is Viktor and his wife Vera. And you remember Levi, with his wife Alina.” Vera is a striking woman with severe features, like her piercing dark blue eyes that can cut you with a glance. Her black hair is cut cleanly at the shoulders and curled inwards in a sleek bob. The darkness of her hair stands in stark contrast to the fairness of her alabaster skin.

Alina has a much softer look with long dark brown hair and wide brown eyes. Her default expression seems to be a stoic pout as she watches quietly. Despite her docile appearance, I know Levi’s wife is anything but passive.

Lexie greets the two women in her usual fashion, complimenting them with a smile. Levi and Alina sit next to Vera then Viktor at the large circular table. Roscoe takes the seat next to Viktor while Enzo sits next to his son. I place myself next to Enzo, with Lexie on my right beside Roscoe.

Conversation starts off mildly with politeness and pleasantries. Lexie comments on Alina’s earrings, which starts a small debate about natural diamonds versus lab-grown. I think a diamond is just a sparkly rock, natural or not. The pretty pink nurse seems to agree with me. What we talk about here at the table is inconsequential—the only conversation that matters to me tonight is the one I’ll have with Viktor later. Alone.

Everything seems to be going smoothly until the waiter comes around to take our dinner orders.

“And what would you like to eat, Miss?” The waiter addresses Lexie with a little too much interest. My eyes narrow at the man, but he’s too focused on the blonde at my side to notice.

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