Page 61 of Control: XXX Vadim 1
His eyes darken, gazing into space beyond me. “You asked me once why I did it,” he says, his voice so cold I shiver as I twist the tie in on itself. “Why I brought you across the country just for a dinner. Why? You were unpredictable.” He slowly lowers his eyes to meet mine. “In my world, those who subvert my expectations have been the only ones I can trust… Don’t assume my sole reason was to humiliate you.”
I digest the confession slowly, swallowing hard. “I guess I should take that as a compliment, then?”
But I don’t. Ena. Zzazza. It feels far more than normal praise to join the ranks of those precious few. Far more vital—and terrifying. I’m getting the sense that those Vadim deems worthy of his attention don’t leave his orbit so easily. Like his brother…
“Did Maxim subvert your expectations, too?” I ask softly. Gosh, I can’t even look at him. Psychoanalyzing someone like him is a dangerous game to play—but it makes sense. A man so calculating doesn’t waste his effort on those who he feels aren’t worth the time, family or not.
Not even if they flirt with his hateful side more than most.
Rather than reply, I sense his finger graze my cheek in a simple, lingering caress. When he withdraws, I’m shivering more violently than before. “Get dressed.”
Once I’m ready, we head down to the car, and I sense a shift the second he claims the driver’s seat beside me. The wall is back up, and the contrast in his demeanor is stark—his eyes darken, his knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel tightly.
“I wonder what’s on the menu?” I say in a last-ditch attempt to spark some of the previous humor that had bubbled between us only a few hours ago.
He doesn’t laugh or respond, for that matter. I suspect he didn’t even hear me. He sits stiffly, hunched over the wheel, his jaw clenched in stubborn silence.
“Baby?” I touch his shoulder, surprised to find him shaking. “Vadim—”
“I’m fine.” He shrugs me off, and I choke down any other attempts at conversation, turning my attention to the road. Rather than his brother’s house, we head toward the city and eventually arrive before a familiar, impressive building.
The kinky sex club. A strange place to have a family dinner, that’s for damn sure. Rather than say as much out loud, I follow him inside. It doesn’t register until I spot the familiar surroundings of dark walls and floors that this is the same bar I entered—only now, it’s been completely rearranged.
Gone are the scantily clad patrons and oodles of sensual atmosphere. Instead, a long dining table dominates the center of the room, set for six. The tall man, Milton, stands to greet us, followed by the beautiful blond from the party as well.
I sheepishly offer my contribution—one of my precious bottles of vintage. “We brought wine.” I make my smile as wide and charming as I’m physically able to. The blond hides her answering grin.
But no one else even cracks a smirk. Still, I take it as a small win. At leastsomeonehas a sense of normal dinner-party etiquette.
Vadim’s brother remains seated beside his young fiancée. His eyes fixate on us, narrowed to slits. Even while dressed in a suit, he radiates feral energy that makes it shockingly easy to picture him lunging across the table at any moment, fists poised to deal out a blow.
“You had the nerve to show up,” he growls, his accent thick, his voice booming. “I thought proposing this fucking farce was an elaborate joke on Milton’s part.”
“What can I say?” Vadim shrugs, and a cruel smile replaces his playful one. “You could have always rescinded the invitation, dear Maxim,” he counters.
“It wasn’t his bloody invitation to rescind,” Milton cuts in, eyeing Maxim with a heated stare fit to light a fire. “Please, sit.”
I follow Vadim’s lead, taking the seat beside him. As I look up, I realize that we’re on an island unto ourselves. Everyone else is seated on the opposite end.
“This looks lovely,” I rasp, eyeing the steaming trays of food placed at intervals throughout the length of the table. Roasted meat. Vegetables. My fingers twitch as I spot my bottle of wine, but I suppress the urge to lunge for it.
This isn’t about me or my nerves. They’re nothing in comparison to the man beside me. He’s still shaking, and real concern makes me grasp his hand, squeezing tight. Sweat beads across his forehead, and Ena’s warning invades my thoughts. When was the last time he’s eaten?
“You have some damn nerve coming here, I will give you that,” Maxim snarls, palming the table. His hands are massive, the knuckles scarred and battered. “Did he tell you?” He turns his piercing gaze to me, and I flinch, sliced through. “Did little Dima mention that he kidnapped a child. Held her hostage while her sister panicked, thinking the worst. Did he tell you that?”
Alarmed, I look at Vadim, and I barely recognize him. He’s ice-cold, his wall an ocean between us. The skeptical, twisted part of my brain races through the reasons why someone might kidnap a little girl—none of them heartwarming. Especially when paired with what he mentioned of his past…
“Did he?” Maxim presses, his tone so fierce I can’t resist replying.
“No,” I admit hoarsely. “He didn’t tell me that.”
“And did he tell you that he threatened my life? That he likes to play God with his money? That he is a snake—”
“What a lovely dinner,” Vadim says, his grin wicked. He pushes back from the table and stands. “I’m afraid I’ll have to take my leave—”
“I’m not done with you.” Maxim lurches to his feet as well. “Did you tell your whore that she is nothing more than a puppet in your quest to mock me?”
The woman beside Maxim lowers her head as my cheeks catch fire. I feel slapped. My lips are already parting as I attempt to stammer out a reply.
