Page 36 of Power's Fall

The manager, Bekir, had been particularly effusive in regards to their visit, giving them a tour of the entire place, while filling them in on the history of the winery. It was fascinating stuff, but after two hours of holding the camera, Montana had been relieved when the man finally led them to the tasting room.

He and Vadisk had taken a few sips as Bekir pulled out bottle after bottle of wine for them to sample, both aware they needed to keep their wits about them. Bekir didn’t notice their drinking habits, too busy trying to impress Dahlia.

As such, she’d had more than enough wine for the three of them. So much so that she’d fallen fast asleep, her head resting on Montana’s shoulder, on the long ride back to the resort.

She wasn’t as drunk as she’d been when they left the winery, but she was still under the effects and feeling no pain. Though the nap in the car seemed to have revived her.

Vadisk, who’d escaped to the kitchen, walked into the living room with a bottle of water for each of them.

Dahlia stuck out her lower lip. “Water. Ugh. Why don’t we open that bottle of red that Bekir gave us?”

Montana sank down next to Dahlia on the couch, uncapping the bottle of water and handing it to her. “Let’s save that for another day, our lovely lush.”

“It was an amazing tour,” Dahlia said, after gulping down nearly half the bottle of water.

Vadisk leaned against one of the walls rather than sitting with them. Montana hated the distance between them, even though he understood Vadisk’s reason for it.

“I didn’t expect it to be so interesting,” Vadisk admitted. “The cellars were impressive and some of that wine…”

“So old,” Dahlia added enthusiastically. “It was the production process that surprised me,” she continued as she and Vadisk launched into a conversation about the inner workings of the winery as well as the history.

Montana tried to follow along, but he was too distracted. Vadisk’s arms were crossed over his chest, casually drawing his attention to his husband’s very large, very sexy biceps. Despite the warm weather, Vadisk wore long-sleeved shirts. When Dahlia commented on it, asking him if he was hot, he told them he needed to hide the tattoos on his arm because the Ukrainian military tats would give him away.

Montana was sorry he’d learned about the tattoos because now he was anxious to see them. Sweet Jesus. Vadisk was a sexy man fully clothed. Montana could only imagine what he would look like without his shirt. His cock thickened as he allowed himself to visualize what he was certain was beneath the button-down. Vadisk would definitely have six—no, eight-pack abs—and an Adonis belt. Montana was no slouch in the muscles department, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t considering adding a few extra rounds of crunches and planks to his daily workout routine.

He crossed his legs, trying to hide the fact he was sitting here with a hard-on.

How different might things have been for the three of them had they been introduced as a trinity then left alone to get to know each other rather than immediately thrust into a dangerous mission.

He let the idea play out. They would have headed to the honeymoon suite of some swanky hotel. Newly formed trinities in America typically spent a week together on the top floor of Boston Park Plaza. He imagined them talking a bit about themselves over wine, perhaps sharing a meal delivered by room service. They’d share subtle heated looks, knees touching as they sat near each other, the brushing of fingers and lips as Dahlia offered him and Vadisk a taste of her dinner—feeding it to them. Montana would brush Dahlia’s hair over her shoulder, the same way she had a few times today, whenever those rogue strands covered her eyes. Vadisk would put his hand on Montana’s shoulder as they shared “war stories,” the two of them bonded by their military backgrounds.

In his mind, it all would have been so simple and perfect. And at the end of that first evening, they would have walked into the bedroom, undressed each other, and?—

“Montana?” Dahlia shook his arm, making it clear it wasn’t the first time she’d said his name.

“Sorry,” he said. “You caught me daydreaming.”

“Care to share with the rest of the class what you were thinking?” Her eyes briefly flashed toward his lap before returning to his face with a knowing grin.

Montana reached over and traced the ends of her hair with his fingers. They were only a few days into this relationship and he was falling fast and hard for his wife. He was tempted to tell her how fucking adorable she was, but he had a good feeling their strong, take-no-prisoners wife wouldn’t care for that descriptor.

“Let’s just say that I was always the kid who wanted what he couldn’t have,” Montana confessed.

Dahlia’s eyes darted over to Vadisk, who sighed heavily.

“Montana,” he started.

Montana raised his hand to cut the other man off. “I’m not saying I disagree with your reason for holding back with us, V.”

Vadisk lit up at Montana’s nickname for him. He’d started calling his husband V earlier in the day and when it became clear how much Vadisk liked it, he just kept going. “I’m just saying it might help if you didn’t look like sex on a stick all the damn time.”

Dahlia, who’d been taking a sip of water, spit it in a wide spray as she laughed, some of it landing on Montana’s hands. “Oh my God. Right? He’s so fucking built. I mean…hello, Thor.”

Vadisk smirked, then lowered his arms, standing straighter. “You think it’s easy for me, hanging out with the two of you all day and not being able to touch you?”

Montana felt a twinge of guilt, aware Vadisk had spoken out against the couple ruse on the plane. Of course, if they’d gone with Vadisk’s cover story, none of them would be able to touch, so…

Yeah, maybe he didn’t feel as guilty as he should when he leaned toward Dahlia, knocking his shoulder against hers before grasping her hand and pulling it up so he could place a kiss on her palm. “Our husband thinks we’re hot.”

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