Page 106 of Bratva Butcher

“Interesting,” I sang, mirroring Dimitri.

He scowled at me, a thunderstorm of anger rolling over his eyes. I smiled smugly.

Karma’s a bitch, ain’t it?

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew I was talking about him, andheknew that Johnathon was describing him to a tee.

“What about people who can’t take criticism?” Dimitri barked out of nowhere.

“I-I’m sorry?” Jonathan spluttered at the same time I snapped, “I can take criticism!”

Joel’s gaze flicked between me and Dimitri. “Do you two know each other?”

“No,” we growled at the same time.

Thankfully, an announcement from one of Allistair’s men prohibited any follow up questions.

“Introducing our esteemed host of tonight’s event, Sir Allistair Vanderbilt the Third.” Jonathan, Mr and Mrs DeShawn, Richelle, Joel and Andre all turned to look behind me, where I assumed Allistair was entering from. But I was far too preoccupied death staring Dimitri to give a shit about what was going on behind me.

So was he.

We glared at each other from across the table as a round of applause went through the group. Weeks of repressed sexual tension vibrated between us, hot and violent.

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up,”I mouthed to him, enunciating every word slowly so there would be no mistaking what it was I was saying.

He pointed a finger at me. “Youshut up,”he mouthed back.

Somehow, we started arguing without actually saying a word, gesturing violently with our hands and cursing each other out while everyone else at the table had their heads turned. The only one watching what was going on was Mikhail, and he just seemed to find the whole thing humorous, leaning back in his chair and eating his food with an amused smile on his face.

Jonathan must have noticed something strange was going on, though, because he looked over his shoulder to glance at me, brows lowered.

I smiled and gave him an awkward thumbs up.

His frown deepened slightly before he looked away.

When I locked eyes with Dimitri again, his smirk made me snap.

Fuck subtly.

My fingers were still wrapped around the handle of my butter knife. I gripped it tight and hurled it right at him.

He lurched right, narrowly missing it all while staying seated in his chair. Without missing a beat, he grabbed his own knife from the table and threw it at me. I quickly picked up my clutch and used it like a shield to block the knife, the blade sinking deep into the fabric.

“Ugh. He’s coming over here,” Andre huffed.

I yanked the knife out of my clutch just as he and everyone else turned back around. Dimitri and I acted like nothing had happened, like we didn’t just try to fucking kill each other.

“Do you think he’s going to do his stupid dance tradition?” Andre finished.

“Of course he is,” Mr DeShawn answered, sounding none too happy about the idea, either. “He does it every year.”

“I pray he doesn’t pick us this time,” Joel said with a grumble.

Richelle smirked seductively at Dimitri. “I wouldn’t mind getting chosen,” she purred. “It could be fun with the right partner, don’t you think, Dimitri?”

His eyes slammed on her, burning with anger and irritation. And not the fun kind. Like the kind he used when he looked at me. This was something worse. Far worse.Fucking hell.If looks could kill. I thought he’d looked at me like he wanted to slit my throat before…but that was nothing compared to how he was looking at Richelle.

“Why are you talking to me?” he barked harshly.

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