Page 19 of Captured By the Russian Wolf

Fuck, she was gorgeous.

I didn't spare her another glance until we arrived at the restaurant.

As we walked inside, the familiar scent of expensive wine and freshly prepared dishes greeted us. The restaurant was buzzing with conversation, the low hum of voices blending with the clinking of silverware. I kept my hand on the small of Lily's back, guiding her through the room, a subtle claim of ownership. She didn't resist—didn't pull away—but I felt how stiff her shoulders were. And how warm her skin was.

This was a test. For both of us.

We reached the private dining area, where my partners were already waiting. They stood as we approached, greeting me with nods and handshakes, their expressions warm but businesslike.

"Gentlemen, this is my wife, Lily," I said, keeping my tone casual but firm as I studied their reactions. Most of them were surprised—they hadn't expected me to bring her tonight, and I saw the curiosity flicker in their eyes. "She'll be joining us this evening."

Lily smiled politely, extending her hand to the men in turn. "It's a pleasure to meet you," she said, her voice smooth, controlled.

"Lily, this is Mr. Graham," I introduced one of the older men, a heavyset real estate mogul with salt-and-pepper hair. "He handles most of our residential projects."

Graham smiled as he shook Lily's hand, his eyes lingering on her a moment too long. "Nikita's never mentioned bringing hiswife to our business meetings before," he said, his tone light but curious. "You must be special."

Lily laughed softly, her smile never faltering. "I suppose I am."

I watched the exchange carefully, noting the way she navigated the conversation with ease. She was charming, disarming even. But I knew better than to be blinded by appearances. Lily was more than she seemed.

We took our seats, the business conversation starting almost immediately. The men discussed numbers, land deals, and investment opportunities, their words flowing easily as wine was poured and plates were served. I kept an eye on Lily as she listened intently, occasionally nodding or offering a polite remark.

But I could see it—the subtle shift in her demeanor. She was taking it all in, processing it.

"So, Lily." Mr. Novak, one of the younger partners, leaned forward, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. "What's your take on all of this? You've got the look of someone who knows more than she's letting on."

Lily smiled, tilting her head slightly. "I wouldn't say that," she replied, her tone light. "I'm still learning. Nikita doesn't let me get too involved in his business."

Novak chuckled. "Smart man. But surely you've got opinions? It's not every day a woman with your presence joins us."

I waited for her response. This was the moment I'd been waiting for—the test I'd set up. Would she give too much away? Would she ask the wrong questions?

She met Novak's gaze without flinching. "I trust Nikita's judgment. He knows what he's doing, and I wouldn't dream of interfering."

Her words were perfect. Calculated. Too perfect.

"Of course," Novak said, leaning back in his chair, satisfied with her answer. "Nikita always knows what's best."

I could feel the tension in the air, the way the men were watching Lily now. She had handled herself well—better than I'd expected. But the ease with which she slipped into this role only deepened my suspicion. If she was hiding something, she was good at it.

As the conversation shifted back to business, I found myself studying her more than the deal on the table. She was composed, poised, and magnetic. Her laugh tinkled, and her every move drew my attention. It was driving me crazy just sitting next to her, unable to lay a finger on her. I found myself jumping between distracting desire and suspicion.

"You're very quiet tonight," I said at one point, my voice low enough that only she could hear.

Lily glanced at me, her smile still in place. "I didn't think it was my place to speak."

"Is that so?" I raised an eyebrow, leaning back in my chair. "I've seen you ask plenty of questions around the house. Why not here?"

She paused, just for a second. Barely enough for anyone else to notice, but I caught it. "This is different."

I didn't respond, just watched her as the conversation around us continued. She was too careful, too measured. If there was something she was hiding, I would find it. But for now, I let it go.

By the time we left the restaurant, my mind was racing with questions. She had handled herself too well, said everything right. But I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something else, something she wasn't telling me.

The ride back to the mansion was quiet, the tension between us thickening with every second. I could feel her eyes on me, but I didn't look at her.

When we got home, I led her to the study. The warmth of the fire greeted us, its light flickering on the walls. I poured myself a drink and offered her one, but she declined. She always declined.

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