Page 94 of A Devious Arrangement

That just earns her a knowing smirk from all three of my brothers.

Xander leans forward, a conspiratorial glint to his eyes. “You do realize he’s head over heels for you, right? I’m pretty sure you could get him to do anything you wanted.”

“With the Salvatores out of the way, that allows us to go right after the Russians.” I change the subject and glare at my brother. There’s no reason to encourage her, or I’ll find myself crawling like a dog. The image of her standing over me while I kneel in front of her has my dick twitching. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

Damon leans forward, directing his attention toward Stasia. “I’m guessing you have a plan?”

I blow out a breath. “She says we can’t just murder them all right away.”

“Told you he was whipped.” Xander chuckles.

Stasia bites back her smirk. “I have leftover business with my grandmother I have to take care of first.”

Damon, Matthias, and Xander wear matching dark looks, fully on board with whatever she wants to do to them.

“Just tell us what you need, and we’ll take care of it,” Damon promises.

Stasia’s smile is cut with malice. “I’m going to make them wish they never messed with my family.”

“I like her,” Xander chimes in. “She’ll fit right in.”

Chapter 45

Anastasia

“Are you sure about this?”Bash asks for the countless time. He cinches the straps of my bulletproof vest, checking every inch of my armor in frantic, choppy motions. His obvious stalling is kinda cute.

“I’m sure, Bash.” I still his hand with mine, pressing it against my heart. “I’ll be fine.”

Of course, it’s a promise I can’t guarantee. My gaze travels up the side of my grandmother’s mansion. Inside, there are trained guards who will protect her at all costs, including with their own lives.

I reach out and straighten Bash’s collar. His suit’s a stark contrast to my military-grade tactical gear he insisted I wear. The vest weighs heavily on my shoulders, but the Everette brothers refused to help me without it. I stopped complaining when Damon told me to count myself lucky they’re not making me wear a helmet.

Bash’s brows pull together, forming a crease between them. “I don’t like it.”

He’d been grumpy about my plan from the beginning, resistant to the idea of me walking in there on my own. He’d managed to convince me that he’ll go in first, using the excusethat my grandmother will personally greet him as one of the Lords of the Order of Saints. Not wrong, but I don’t believe for a second that’s what’s actually motivating him.

“It’s important to me to be the one who does this. I have to get my brother back,” I tell him again.

“Can’t we just kill them all?” he pleads, his eyes round like a puppy.

It’s hard not to give in when he looks at me like that, which is something he clearly knows. I hate making him worry, but this is a long time coming. “I need them to see exactly what happens when they mess with my family. I need them to know that it was my mother’s daughter who took them down.”

“Fuck, you’re sexy when you talk like that.”

My thick hair’s braided back out of my face, and Bash reaches out, taking his time to straighten the Kokoshnik Tiara I’m wearing. “Promise you’ll be careful?”

There’s concern written all over his face, and I lift onto my toes, tugging his mouth to mine. I push every ounce of reassurance into it, doing my best to wash away his fear. When I pull back, his gaze darkens with lust as he watches me.

“I promise to follow our planexactly.” I run his collar through my fingers, smoothing the stiff fabric.

“You’re being very obedient.” He smirks, the glint in his eyes telling me exactly what he plans to do tonight, sending a shiver down my spine and heat pooling between my thighs. Totally not the time.

He chuckles, then captures my mouth in a kiss that steals my breath. “Wait here, Princess, while I go make a scene.”

I watch as he disappears around the corner to the front door. His status as a Lord of the Order of Saints makes it possible to walk right up. As expected, he’s brought into the room beside me, allowing me to watch through the window. He’s standing there, arms crossed over his chest, wearing a bored expressionas my grandmother walks in to greet him. There’s a nearly invisible stiffness to his jaw that gives away the tension flowing under his casual facade. When did I start being able to read him this way?

The Romanov matriarch stands tall, a regal pose with her chin held high. I can’t make out what they’re saying, but it’s clear she’s annoyed at Bash’s unprompted appearance. I swallow hard as Nikolai appears through a door at the back of the room. He’s dressed in an impeccably tailored suit, his hair styled off his face. It’s a deeper color than mine, a perfect mix of our parents.

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