Page 23 of Merciless Queen

The current song ends and immediately blends into another one, and the guy remains attached to her, clingy and hopeful. She came down here for me. I’m the one she’s taunting, so this should be as easy as it was to get her down from the VIP section.

I stride away from my corner, the weight of my upcoming actions slowing down my breath. There’s an eagerness too, that after all these years, the Volkov family willfinallybe brought to justice. Vanessa first, and then her uncle who’s been strangely beneficial to have in my corner during this. That usefulness will run its course the second Vanessa’s life is snuffed out, and he’ll be one of two remaining members of this fucking family left to go.

Between now and then, there’s so much to do. Starting with this dance apparently. With playing whatever part I must to get into Vanessa’s mansion.

Like the dance floor is surrounded by an invisible barrier, it sucks me up. Drags me into the energetic chaos and leads me to Vanessa in the centre.

The guy she’s dancing with leans slightly to the left, and I’m able to see a part of her back, bare due to the dress’s design. On her shoulder blade, there’s a black and white eagle surroundedby a forest done in colour. Seems too artistic for a regular Bratva tattoo, and I find myself curious about its origins.

Focus. Not the time to forget your job.

The people I’m working for are the real deal. An organization as influential as the Bratva, and just as evil. But they own me, my gun, and I’m doing this job for them.

I sidle up beside the duo. Vanessa’s eyes dart in my direction and then away, a not-so-subtle smirk toward her friend dancing nearby, who’s watching me with an intensity I’d find worrisome if I felt she’d act on it.

As the two speak in whatever silent language they have, I face the guy, catching in my peripheral vision how his hand clenches tighter around her hip. I flick a finger at him, lifting a brow in a silentdare me.

The idiot sneers.“Ona zanyata.”

My Russian isn’t exactly up to date, not that it’ll ever be, but I pretend to understand what he said for Vanessa’s sake. It’s not time for her to know my origins, though she will soon because I won’t be able to mask my accent.

Luckily, Vanessa turns her head, eyes on me, and replies in the same language. Even though she’s looking at me, the guy’s expression indicates whatever“Ukhodi”means, it’s for him. He releases her and sulks away, without a backwards look.

Vanessa turns around without breaking a beat. She sidles up to me, wrapping her arms around my neck. I feel her everywhere. Her soft curves. The possessive hold she has on me. And her fucking scent. I could groan, if I wasn’t trying so fucking hard not to haveanyreaction.

She smells like the best kind of poison, a spicy but flowery trace. Like a taste of the forbidden I long for, despite everything. It radiates off her, sucking me into the web she’ll try to consume me with. Try? She could very well succeed, if I allowed it.

I shake the thoughts away because I know—fuckingknow—this is her game. It’s the Volkov way. She’s beauty and death wrapped up in one toxic package. She’ll fuck a man, kill him, and smile while doing it.

“You’re not dancing,” she states in a slightly accusatory tone. “If you’re not interested, I might have to bring the other guy back.”

I lower my head into the curve of her neck, dragging my nose up the column of her throat. I stop at the base of her ear, my breath blowing warm over her skin, so she can hear me over the thumping music.

“If you were interested in that tool, you would never have commanded him away. Maybe I’m not dancing because I’m too enthralled with you.”

Vanessa jerks back. “You’re not from here.”

“I’m not.” No point in hiding the truth anymore since it was going to come out at some point. “Vacationing with family.”

“From…” Her eyes narrow. “Italy?”

“Sì.”

“Hm.” A low hum echoes in my ear as she presses even closer, dragging one hand down my chest. Her nails lightly dig into the material of my shirt before hooking on the bottom, fingering a patch of skin above my belt.

My cock twitches and I bite my tongue.

She grins knowingly, aware of her effect. Her other hand abandons my neck to lightly scrape her nails over my day-old scruff before roughly gripping my chin. The difference in her touches, her gentle strokes and her firm hold, is striking, but oddly welcoming.

Everything I’ve learned about Vanessa’s personality had me believing she’d enjoy lying back and allowing her partner to pleasure her. To do whatever he wants to her, so long as it ends with her moaning through her release. But now, I’m not sosure. Now she’s—I shut the notion down, unwilling to allow my thoughts to go there. To consider the fact that faking might not be in tonight’s plans after all.

She angles my face down, eyes flicking over my face, like she’s looking for something. She shouldn’t recognize me because if intel is correct, she’s unaware about her father’s past with the Cosa Nostra. At least, I fucking hope so, or this interaction is about to become a dance to the death.

“You’re a pretty one,” she murmurs, her mouth an inch away. So close, I taste the sweet alcohol she consumed earlier on her breath. “You should know, I never waste a Friday night and I’m not planning on starting now. So you either dance with me or…” She trails off, allowing me to finish her sentence.

Leave.That’s not happening. Not when I’m so damn close that all I see is her blood drenching her bedsheets, the exact colour she’s wearing on her lips.

Responding silently, I take control by spinning her around until her back is to my front. She takes over quickly, directing the speed in which we move. One arm returns to my neck, while the other resting over the one I’ve locked around her waist. I drop my head into her neck, breathing in the scent that’ll easily become an addiction if I were to allow it to. We won’t be getting that far, though. By tonight, months of work will pay off and the world will have one less Volkov, leaving the Bratva scrambling yet again.

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