Page 96 of Stalk Me

“Enough time then.” I lean closer, but he catches my chin with his fingers.

“You look too perfect to ruin. Yet.” The heat in his eyes makes me shiver.

The drive to Villa La Massa passes in a blur of stolen kisses and whispered promises. Pulling up to the illuminated Renaissance villa, I spot familiar faces among the arriving guests.

Tash makes her entrance in a dress that could start wars. It’s made from purple silk that flows like liquid around her curves. She pauses at the top of the stone steps, scanning the crowd with that practiced socialite’s eye. Then Dmitri approaches her, every inch the perfect host in his tailored tuxedo.

“Welcome to the celebration,” he says, gracefully extending his hand.

“How kind of you to greet the commoners.” Tash’s smile could cut glass as she takes his hand.

“I assure you, there’s nothing common about you.” Dmitri’s ice-blue gaze sweeps over her with dangerous appreciation.

“No?” Tash withdraws her hand slowly. “How disappointing. I rather enjoy being underestimated.”

I lean into Nikolai’s shoulder, watching their verbal sparring match. “Your brother’s met his match,” I murmur.

Nikolai’s smirk widens as Dmitri’s perfect composure cracks slightly at Tash’s next barbed comment. “Perhaps that’s exactly what he needs.”

I scan the opulent ballroom, taking in the subtle power plays around us. The Castellanos and Ivanovs circle each other like wary predators, testing boundaries through polite smiles and calculated conversation. Ornate chandeliers filter a warm glow over the Renaissance frescoes, turning the whole scene into something out of a dark fairy tale.

Nikolai’s hand slides to my lower back, guiding me onto the dance floor. His touch burns through the silk of my wedding dress, claiming and possessive. We move together with practiced grace, his lead subtle but absolute.

“Happy, Mrs. Ivanov?” His accent thickens on my new name. The weight of his ring on my finger still feels foreign but right.

“Ecstatic,” I murmur, watching the fascinating dynamics. Dmitri has cornered Tash by the champagne fountain, caught in a heated debate.

I melt into Nikolai’s arms as we glide across the marble floor, his hand at my waist guiding me with subtle pressure. The orchestra plays a waltz, its melody wrapping around us like silk. Every turn brings me closer to his chest, his cologne teasing my senses.

“You’re thinking too much,malishka.” His breath tickles my ear.

“Just taking it all in.” I glance at him through my lashes, catching that predatory gleam in his steel-gray eyes. “Our families watching us like hawks, waiting to see who leads this dance.”

“Let them watch.”

The music shifts slower now, and Nikolai pulls me closer. My breath catches as his thigh slides between mine, our steps becoming more intimate with each measure. The rest of the room fades away until there’s only us and the music.

“Your heart’s racing,” he murmurs, fingers splaying possessively across my back.

“Your fault.” I press closer, feeling the solid warmth of his chest against mine. “You always know exactly what you’re doing.”

His low chuckle vibrates through me. “With you? Always.”

We move as one across the floor, every step charged with unspoken promises. His hand slides lower, proprietary, marking me as his even in this crowded room. My fingers curl into his shoulder, nails scraping lightly through his jacket.

“Careful,malishka.” His voice drops an octave. “Or we might need to cut this reception short.”

I look up at him, catching the heat in his gaze that weakens my knees. “Promise?”

His grip tightens fractionally as we turn, the movement bringing our bodies flush together. The friction sends sparks racing along my nerves, and I bite back a gasp.

“Come with me,” Nikolai growls in my ear, leading me away from the dance floor. He guides me up a hidden staircase to a secluded and out-of-view balcony overlooking the grand hall. Below, our guests continue celebrating, unaware of their hosts’absence. The music drifts up, mingling with the warm Tuscan night air.

“Someone might see,” I whisper as his hands slide over the silk of my wedding dress. But we both know that’s part of the thrill.

“Let them,” he murmurs against my neck. “You’re my wife now,malishka. Mine in every way.”

His fingers find the hidden slit in my dress, sliding up my thigh. I bite back a moan as he presses me against the stone balustrade. The rough texture of centuries-old marble contrasts with the smooth silk of my dress with Nikolai’s expert touch.

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