Page 13 of Control: XXX Vadim 1
Still suffering from my current hangover, I nearly choke. “N-No thanks.”
He ushers me into a private booth as I wait, and when the driver arrives, he professes his intent to wait for me as long as required.
A smile tugs on my mouth for the first time as I enter the back of a sleek silver vehicle.
This might be fun.
* * *
Cursing,I attempt to swipe my room key through the reader while juggling an armful of shopping bags. Finally, success! I kick open the door and hop inside, only to scream as my eyes settle over a figure glowering in the center of the sprawling suite.
“I told you six,” Vadim snaps. He’s already dressed in a sleek ebony suit, tailored to perfection. His dark curls conform to his skull, slightly mussed. Capping off the look is a blood-red tie that betrays a hint of the daring nature I’ve come to suspect he regularly suppresses. “We’re going to be late…”
He trails off when he notices the army of bags at my disposal.
“Hear me out,” I plead, holding up my hands in a gesture of surrender. “I couldn’t decide what to wear. And then traffic was hell. And…” I fish through my bags and brandish a luxuriously wrapped package in triumph. “I got your brother a gift. And his wife, if he has one.” I wield a second gift in my opposite hand and smile as sweetly as I physically can.
“He has a fiancée,” Vadim grunts, still surly.
So I resort to plan B and start to shimmy out of my dress. “Don’t hate me until you see the options,” I say in a rush. “Option one—” I snatch a garment from a black bag betraying the name of a designer I used to worship back when I had the lack of brains and excess funds to spend on clothing. A deep shade of navy, the slim-fitting cocktail dress sets off the red in my hair and conforms to my shape. Sexy, but modestly so.
“No,” Vadim says, observing me with a frown. “It is a party, not a church service.”
“Ah.” So maybe life with Jim is harder to shake than I thought? No matter. Skipping to another bag, I dig out my second option.
“No,” he growls before I can even pull it on—a black, moderately more revealing mini dress.
“Okay. Big guns, then. Now when you said sexy, I hope you meant…stripper. Because that is this dress.” I reach for my final option, and his eyes narrow thoughtfully. When it isn’t met with instant rejection, I tug it on, wrenching the tiny frock down over my hips.
It’s anot-safe-for-work-fuck-medress in Jessica Rabbit scarlet with her flair for the daring. A bold, plunging neckline reveals the globes of both my breasts, and the view extends almost to my navel. The back is equally low cut, but given the quality of the fabric, it’s admittedly more high-class escort than stripper.
“This will do,” Vadim says. He lunges forward and grabs my wrist, dragging me from the room before I can even get my bearings.
“W-Wait—”
“We’re late,” he growls. He must not have been kidding about things being tense between him and his brother. I only manage to slip on my heels and grab the two presents before I find myself tugged into the elevator, dragged from the hotel, and promptly shoved within a scarlet sports car waiting out front.
Vadim takes the wheel, still scowling.
I feel drawn to tap his shoulder once, my frown apologetic. “I’m sorry,” I say as he pulls into traffic. “I’m terrible with time management. Jim—I mean… Some people used to say I’d miss the rapture because I’d just have to go back and grab the perfect tube of lipstick to wear through the holy gates.”
He doesn’t laugh.
I try another tack. “Do you live here in Fair Haven?”
Still no answer.
Sighing, I sit back in my seat and wring my fingers together. “If you’re angry with me, you might as well just yell about it. Otherwise, I’ll talk and talk to fill the silence. I can’t stand it to be honest. I would rather be boiled alive than—”
“So it wasn’t the wine that made you so talkative.” His tone is so cutting, I wince.
“Touché,Mr. Gorgoshev. I… Are you okay?”
He’s shivering, his body vibrating over the seat. His teeth chatter, but his eyes are narrowed and focused.
I fumble with the dials on the console until the heat kicks on.
“Maybe I should check for a fever—”
