Page 80 of Cashmere Cruelty

I’d rise from my chair, lifting her ankles to hook over my shoulders. I’d feast on her, every drop of her juices, until she’s crying for it. Begging.

Then I’d take my rock-hard cock out and spear her open. I wouldn’t care if anyone was watching; better, even. Let there be an audience to testify. Let them see exactly who April Flowers belongs to.

Who her body belongs to, that is.

That’s the crux of the matter: I don’t care about relationships. I don’t want them. Never have, never will. It’s why I agreed to a political marriage in the first place—how else would I have done it? Yuri may get all sentimental about it, but I never have. Love isn’t for me.Trustisn’t for me.

Almost everyone I ever trusted has either betrayed me or died.

But this thing with April isn’t love. It’slust, pure and simple. The most common of all sins. And, unfortunately, I’m not immune to cliché.

My mind flies back to last night. It’s like it never left, really. Mentally, I’m still there: my hands over her breasts, my tongue between her thighs.

So what if I’m in lust with her?

Really, she has no one to blame but herself. If she didn’t want me to ravage her, she shouldn’t have talked back to me. Shouldn’t have made herself into the only type of woman I can’t say no to: rebellious, drop-dead gorgeous, and made to be fucked into oblivion.

It’s no wonder I lost my head. If I hadn’t regained my senses, I would’ve fucked her until dawn.

But then she said,Stay.

And that’s the one thing I cannot do.

“Matvey?” Yuri calls to me, leaning over slightly. I blink back to the present.

Thevoryare giving me concerned looks from around the table, but no one dares say a word. Good. I’m not in the mood to make up excuses. If anybody asked, I’d tell them the truth here andnow:I haven’t heard a single word you said because I was busy picturing the seamstress leaking all over your papers.

Alas, nobody asks.

“It seems like this quarter went really well,” Grisha pipes up from his seat. “All-around growth, no issues. Well done.”

“Yes,” I quickly agree, clearing my throat. “Good job, everyone.”

The looks don’t stop, but a few nods come my way, acknowledging the praise. It’s a rare gift—better if they make it last.

Finally, a voice rings out. “Moy pakhan.”

I lift my gaze. Ivan is sitting on the edge of his chair, fingers drumming on the dark glass table the way they always do when he’s got a question on his mind. Out of all myvory, Ivan is the only one who’s never given me problems.

I have a sickening feeling that that’s about to change.

“The D.C. acquisition. Should we move forward?” he asks at last, cutting through the chase.

I appreciate how direct he is. I’ve never been a fan of mental gymnastics, and Ivan never struck me as the type, either. I’ve never known my grandfather, the original founder of the Groza Bratva, but if he was anything like me, he wouldn’t have wanted his men to beat around the bush either.

“Of course,” I answer. “I don’t see a reason to delay it.”

Some of thevoryexchange uneasy looks. “It’s just,” Gora tries, “with the wedding…”

“The wedding will proceed as planned.”

More whispering. What is this: lunch break at the kindergarten? “We thought, after what happened…”

“You don’t need to think.We agreed a long time ago that I’d be the one to do that for the rest of us.” I straighten myself, silencing their inquisitive gazes with a single glance. “All you need to do is act.”

“It’d be helpful,” Stanislav cuts in, “if we knew why we were doing it, sir. This whole acquisition has been shrouded in mystery ever since it began.” A few approving nods. “If we knew what you were looking for?—”

“Iknow what I’m looking for,” I interrupt, rising from my chair. “It’s that building. Get it done.”

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