Page 20 of Bloody Lace

“I won’t be seeing other women while we’re married,” he clarifies. “If that’s what you’re referring to.”

I swallow hard, momentarily saved from digging deeper by the server’s arrival. Dimitri rattles off a wine with a French name that I couldn’t possibly begin to pronounce, and glances back at the menu.

“The golden caviar as well,” he says, contemplating the list of appetizers. “And the snapper and sea-urchin appetizer medley.”

My eyebrows go up. “Sea urchin?”

“It’s delicious,” he promises me. “You’ll love it. And the caviar, if you’re brave enough to try it.”

For some reason, that needles me a bit, and I think he knows it. I think he’s doing it on purpose, and I shrug. “If I can face down a gang member in my shop, I think I can handle fish eggs.”

“There’s the spirit.” Dimitri chuckles. “Now. What were we talking about?”

The look on his face says he knows damn well what we were talking about, and my cheeks heat. “We were talking about your…diversions, after the wedding.”

His mouth twitches. “Well, since you seem determined to talk about my bedroom habits with the propriety of a Victorian widow, I’ll lay it out very plainly for you, Evelyn. I have no intentions of dating, being seen with, or having sex with any other woman while we’re married. Is that clear enough?”

“But—” I stare at him, completely perplexed. “I meant what I said. About us not sleeping together.”

“I’m sure you did.” Dimitri pauses as the server returns with our bottle of wine. He seems entirely at ease as the server passeshim the cork, then pours him a taste. Dimitri sips it, nods, and waits as both of our glasses are filled, the remainder set on the table as the server sets a silver tray with our appetizers in between us.

“Try the wine,” he suggests, taking another sip of his. As if we’re discussing the weather and not the fact that he just suggested to me that he plans to be celibate for the entirety of our marriage.Unless…

I remember what Dahlia warned me about, that men like him think they can always have whatever they want. I stare at the tray between us, at the small dish of caviar and the thin crackers, the slivers of fish interspersed with marinated peppers and pickled radish, and I wonder if this is all just a trap. A way for him to lock me into a situation that I can’t get out of.

Reaching for my wine glass, I take a sip. It’s delicious, rich and dry, and I savor it for a moment before setting the glass back down, meeting Dimitri’s gaze as evenly as I can.

“I meant it,” I repeat. “And if you think I’m going to marry you and then change my mind, or if this is some trap and you plan to force me?—”

Dimitri’s gaze darkens, startling me into silence with the sudden anger that I see flash over his face. “I’ve never forced a woman,” he says flatly, his voice low and harsh. “There’s a lot of things that I’ve done, as my father’s heir, that are questionably immoral. But never that. If you won’t come to my bed, Evelyn, then that will be the end of it. Though,” he adds, with the smallest hint of humor returning to his expression, “I can’t promise that I won’t try to entice you. And I won’t tell you no, if you change your mind.”

That makes me catch my breath, my hand freezing around my wine glass. The desire in his voice is evident, and it startles me, because no one has ever wanted me the way he seems to. I’ve encountered lust in men, but never like this. This feels somehowdifferent—less crass than the men I’ve known, less objectifying, even though Dimitri is undoubtedly looking at me as if he’d take me this instant, if I gave him permission.

He’s looking at me like I’ve seen Dahlia look at pieces of art she covets. Like I’m something priceless. And it’s a thousand times more dangerous than the ordinary lust that I’m used to.

“I still don’t understand,” I say softly. “I’m sure women throw themselves at you. I can’t imagine fidelity is a strongly held virtue in a crime family. So why?”

Dimitri is silent for a moment, taking another sip of his wine before sliding his hand into the inside of his jacket. I watch him, confused, as he slides a small, slightly worn black velvet box across the table towards me.

“Open it,” he says quietly, and I frown.

“Why won’t you just answer my question?”

“I will,” Dimitri says calmly. “Just open it.”

Still frowning, I reach for the box, flipping it open—and my mouth drops open slightly as I see what’s inside.

It’s a ring. An engagement ring, certainly—and I can tell it’s vintage. The center is a large pear-shaped diamond, surrounded by two rows of round halo diamonds, with three baguettes at the very bottom, set in aged yellow gold. It’s utterly gorgeous, and I stare at it, perplexed as I look up at Dimitri.

“What—”

“That’s my mother’s ring,” he says, nodding towards the box. “Given to my father to give to her, by his mother. It’s a family heirloom.”

“Then why are you giving it to me?”

“Because, for whatever length of time it takes for us to get what we both need from this arrangement, you will be my wife, Evelyn. There’s a reason I wanted out of the engagement that I was meant to agree to.” His gaze falls on the ring again, and then flicks back up to meet mine. “She would have hated my mother’sring. She wouldn’t have appreciated what it meant to wear it. But I think, even though this isn’t real, that you will. And she wouldn’t have cared if I ran through a hundred women’s beds during our marriage. But I think, despite the fact that you’re sitting there insisting I should be able to, youdocare.”

“I don’t?—”

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