Page 18 of Brutal Promise

“I love this fashion statement,” I reply with a grimace.

“Ah, the fashion designer. Yes. I’m sorry, I don’t have a closet of clothes for you to choose something nicer.”

He’s so fucking serious. Like, really? He flew here. I live here.

“No problem. I don’t need much,” I reply and stomp past him.

He takes the lead and uses a private elevator to access the parking garage.

“Wow, someone has perks.”

The smirk he gives me makes me want to wipe the floor with him. “It’s not my apartment, but membership has its privileges.”

I hear a beep, and headlights flash in front of us. I’ve seen this kind of car before, but I can’t figure out why anyone would want to drive around in a Lamborghini. I’m surprised when he opens the door for me, and it opens like a regular car door.

“Must be a new model,” I remark. I tuck my folded dress under my arm and use my other hand to balance myself while getting in.

Dmitry has his hand out to help. I ignore his offer of assistance and get in unassisted. He shuts the door, gets in the driver’s side, starts the engine, gives it a rev, and backs out like a professional driver. We’re not far from Alena’s flat, and we’re buzzed in as we approach the door. I open it and walk in. We’re on my turf. I know he’ll understand if I’m not two feet behind him like a good little girl who does as she’s told.

8

DMITRY

I’ve never understood why American girls are so opposed to walking a step behind their men. It’s like everything has to be equal for them. I’m unsure how Izzy’s mother raised her to be independent and spirited. Unless it was afuck youto her old man, who knows who that was. For that matter, who was Izzy’s mother? What was her story? She’s not here to tell us, so I have my work cut out for me. I thought Kirill would help fill in the blanks. However, Alena has a history with the family and gave me puzzle pieces.

I’m compelled to seduce Izzy again and tell myself it’s only the intrigue of her tattoo. Tattoos are personal, some more meaningful than others. Her mother's tattoo was important to her, or she would never have put it on her flesh. I can’t shake my gut instinct telling me she obtained the tattoo as a reminder of what she left behind. I can’t determine the connection, but her mother knew our world. I’m sure of it. She could be a blood relative of any family, but my money is on the Sicilians. Was she born out of an illicit union, or is she someone’s crown jewel?

The part about the stalker was a surprise and gave me a reason to be concerned. We’re all targeted at some point, and Alena is no exception. I texted Kirill that she could be in danger and needs to lie low with more guards. She’s always been in an ivory tower. Even if she thought she was free, it was an illusion.

The door to the flat opens, and Alena greets us as she and Izzy share a warm embrace.

“Oh, my God,” Alena squeals. She’s not one to hide her emotions. “You two ditched us last night.” She gives me a look that saysI hope you fucked her hard,you stud.

“So, I take it you two had a good time?” Kirill asks as he gets up from the sofa in the living room.

“Yeah, yeah.” I brush it off. Why is everyone making a big deal about last night? It was a one-and-done.

“Well, I, for one.” Alena puts a hand on her chest. “Nearly had a heart attack when you stuck your knife in the hand of that burly Albanian, or was he from Russia? I couldn’t tell in the dim lighting. But damn, that was something you don’t see every day.” Alena carries on about the night of the stabbing while offering us a mimosa.

“I’m good. Too much champagne last night.” Izzy waves her off and heads down a hall, presumably to her bedroom.

I love her in my shirt and the heels. It’s sexy as fuck, and my cock stirs as I watch her shapely legs move further away. A wave of regret floods my chest. I don’t want her to be that far away. We’re within a 1,500 feet radius of each other, and it’s not close enough for me. She’s mine. I marked her last night when I stabbed the stranger. She was mine when I sank my cock into her. I desire to be in her fully, without a condom between us. I want to feel her slick walls clenching around my cock.

As if I wished her to appear, she returns, dressed in a light sweater and fitted jeans that hug her curves in all the right places, making her ass look edible. I’d love to peel those pants off and sink my cock into her. He begins to thicken at the thought of it.Fuck me.I have to focus less on Izzy and more on my work. I have a job to do, and now, it appears, there are other issues in the bratva. I need to speak to Kirill and get some answers.

Izzy returns my jacket, and I place it on the back of the sofa.

“My shirt?” I lift one eyebrow as I question her.

She only shrugs. “Can I get you a bottle of fizzy water?”

“Sure.”

She disappears, and Alena is right on her heels, no doubt to pump her for details about our night spent banging the headboard against the wall. Women do this in Russia and London, too. It’s like a goddamn universal language, women wagging their tongues. Today, I welcome it because it allows me to ask my friend what’s happening in the city and, more importantly, the bratva.

I don’t want the girls to hear me, so I join Kirill on the couch and keep my voice low.

“Where did you sleep last night, here or home?” I ask out of curiosity.

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