Page 82 of Thorns of Lust
The house sat at the end of the long driveway. The moon projected on the white stone of her home. It wasn’t large, but it suited her. Elegant. Cozy. Large enough for a family but not too big where you’d get lost in it.
Parking my black Aston Martin, I got out of the car just as Tatiana opened her front door.
I raised my eyebrow. I expected her to have staff to do that. “I could have been here to kill you.”
She waved her hand. “I saw you through the security monitors at the gate.”
I shook my head. It was still careless, but today wasn’t the day to lecture her. Instead, I let my eyes travel over her. She wore a hot pink tank top and a pair of matching shorts, her long bare legs on full display. She was barefoot, her toes the matching sparkling pink. It was nice to see her outside her signature black Chanel.
Her thick blonde hair fell down her shoulders and between her fingers, she rolled a scrunchie.
“Come in.” She stepped aside, my suit brushing against her as I walked in, closing the door behind us.
I turned around, watching the sparkle in her eyes. It was gone those first few months. I swore that I’d see it back in her blues even if I had to bring down the stars from the sky. The stars were safe for now.
“Lead the way. This is your home.”
The strap fell off the slim curve of her shoulder. She didn’t bother pulling it up, holding my gaze. This lust for her was embedded like thorns in a rose. It was engraved in the very marrow of my bones.
It was part of me, and I didn’t even want to purge it.
The question was whether she could handle my love. My mother wasn’t able to handle my father’s, and it didn’t end well for her.
“Just take a seat anywhere,” she said in a frustrated breath. Her hands pulled her hair out of her face and she attempted to braid it. The scent of roses filled my lungs and spread like a drug through my veins. “I just need to get this mess under control.”
I reached out and took the scrunchie from her hand. “Here, let me.”
Her mouth parted and her gaze met mine.
“You know how to braid hair?” she murmured, surprised.
“I know how to braid hair,” I answered quietly. I had enough practice over the years.
My eyes darted around the foyer, lit up by an antique chandelier. There were antique pieces sitting around in different corners, blending with her other furniture. Tatiana loved her antiques, I realized. She’d love my castle in Russia.
I spotted an old sixteenth century Spanish bench chair and I nudged her toward it. She sat down without a protest, her posture rigid as if she expected a prank.
I started braiding her hair, remembering the last time I braided my sister’s hair. It had been years.
“Where did you learn to braid hair, Pakhan?” she asked, her shoulders slowly relaxing.
“A little girl demanded them every night,” I told her. “So I learned how to do them.”
“Your kid?”
“She’s under my protection,” I answered vaguely. If she was anyone else, I wouldn’t have even told her this much.
I alternated right and left sides, bringing the side section up and over the middle until I’d reached the end. Once satisfied her braid was nice and tight, I secured it with the hair tie. Her fingers came to the back of her head and she traced it down.
“Not bad,” she murmured, glancing at me over her shoulder. “For a Pakhan. What would the world say if they knew the bad, big Pakhan knew how to braid.” The corners of my lips tugged up. Tatiana could be charming when she wanted to. She glanced over her shoulder at me and her eyes shimmered as she tapped her chin pensively. “I might even use it to blackmail you.”
I let out an amused breath. “You can try.”
She grinned. “Oh, I will. You just wait and see. I own you now.”
The woman already owned me. She’d find out soon that I’d own her too.
“Now, let’s get down to business,” I said. “Lead the way to those hard drives.”
