Page 30 of The Way You Hurt Me

The babies are trusting enough, and the adults slowly warm up to me as I sit next to the playpen and handle them one by one, cooing in a soft voice.

Dimitri disappeared a while back. It's only when he comes back in a fitted gray suit with a navy shirt that I notice how casually dressed he was earlier.

Chinos and a polo over a white shirt is hardly anyone's definition of casual, but for him, it might as well be sweats. I've never seen him in anything other than a three-piece suit, not even when he was fucking my sister. I wished I'd paid more attention. I guess I was too startled by the whole situation to notice that I was dealing with Saturday afternoon Dimitri. I should have taken a picture.

He expertly fits a cufflink into the soft-looking shirt.

"Going somewhere?"

"Downstairs," he replies. "The ground floor of the building has a nice restaurant—Wolves Bite. Heard of it?"

I'm surprised I can nod. "Yeah, actually, Lucy mentioned it. It's new, right? It must be nice to have a fancy place just an elevator ride away."

"It was a sound investment—saves a lot of time. Plus, my private chef was bored to tears having no one else to feed. Now his kitchen simply sends three meals a day up to me or my office."

"You own Wolves Bite?" I ask, highly curious.

I know aboutWolven Gaming, and Camden mentioned that Dimitri had various investments, but somehow I didn't imagine him going into hospitality.

"The building, yes—and I have a controlling interest in the restaurant, though I don't run things directly."

"Thebuilding?" I echo. "All of it?"

That's insane. We're in Manhattan, and this place must easily be six hundred feet tall. I think I saw that there were sixty-two floors when I was in the elevator. Just one person can’t own it. I know Dimitri is rich, but that's ridiculous. He must be generalizing, saying he owns most of building, or that one of his companies owns a part of it.

"I like to control my space," he replies. "Besides, it was a smart investment. It was run-down when I purchased it, and now it's worth about ten times what I bought it for."

I shake my head. "We're not even the same species, are we?"

A dry chuckle. "Wolves and flowers, little girl. You won't see anyone, but the building's security is quite efficient; if you need help, just shout. I'd rather you not walk the mutts until I return, but should you need to leave, feel free to do so. The doorman will let you in and the receptionist will unlock this floor for you when you walk into the elevator. Make yourself at home."

The concept of making myself at home in his place is as ridiculous as one man owning a veritable skyscraper in one of the most expensive cities in the world.

"So, I can snoop? Try to find the cookies?" I tease, knowing full well that the answer is a resounding no, no way, no how, don't you dare even think about it.

Dimitri Volkov likely has a hundred things I shouldn't see. Piles of cash. Diamonds. Weapons. Illegal stuff, probably.

A grin tugs at the corner of his lips. "Feel free."

What?

I'm pretty sure my jaw must be at floor level.

"What, petal, you thought I was going to hide from you?"

I swallow. "You must have things you don't want just anyone to see."

"But you're not just anyone, are you Willow?" The smile might still be firmly in place, but those green eyes don't have much humor. "Cookies are right above the coffeemaker. And if you want it to make the best hot chocolate you can drink outside of Spain, the secret lock is 3772. Just type that on the screen with a mug underneath. I shouldn't be long."

I'd like to say I don't stare too hard when he turns to leave, but I'm still in shock at first, and then, well, who exactly would blame me for looking at that ridiculously plump, muscular ass in pants hugging it so lovingly?

I want to hug it.

Fuck, I'm seriously in trouble. He must know what he’s doing to me, doesn't he?

I bite my lower lip. I'm imagining things that aren't here again, making hoops in my mind to jump to the conclusions I want to get to. That's all it is. The last time I did this, he ended up engaged on the night when I thought he'd take my virginity. I can't go down that route again.

He meant, I'm Morgan's little sister, practically in Cam's family. Of course he trusts me. That's what he meant. That's also why he told me how to make hot chocolate, the most immature drink anyone can obtain from a fancy coffee machine, in a house where's there probably a million different types of alcohol. He would likely have told his wife where the wine is. If she didn't already know.

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