Page 18 of Immaculate Corruption (Romanoff Bratva)

Dima’s eyebrows raise when he sees my hair. I can see he’s taken aback by the sudden change. But as his eyes drift lower, a familiar hungry look slides into place. I recognize it well.

“Well, do you like it?’ I ask. Even though I know the answer.

He grumbles. “Maybe too much. You’ll be a distraction the moment you walk in.”

“I think that’s a compliment. Isn’t that the point?” I spin in a circle and pop my hip. “Do I look rich?”

“You look fucking priceless.” Something about the way he says that raises goosebumps on my arms. He walks towards me, eyes gliding up and down my body. Then he reaches for my hair and picks up a strand. “Except the hair. I hate the hair.”

I pull my hair out of his hand and swat him away. “Not nice.”

“It’s not you,” he says, his thumb brushing along my jawline. “Dark hair suits your skin tone much better.”

My body flushes at his touch. It feels like he’s trailing fire across my face. I tuck my chin down and clear my throat. “I’m not trying to look like myself, though. I want to look different. So do I?”

Dima stands back and studies me, tipping his head one way and then the other.

His hair has only gotten longer over the last few weeks. I like it. It softens him, although his eyes are still like hot coals, black and fiery. I want to run my fingers through his tangled locks and rough beard.

Instead, I curl my hands into fists at my side while he looks at me from all angles.

“It’ll work. Especially if people aren’t looking at your face,” he says. “In a dress like that, they’ll be focused… elsewhere.”

I suddenly feel the urge to cover my breasts, but I resist. I have to be confident.

“That’s a little objectifying.”

He shrugs. “That’s men for you.”

He’s not wrong. And the dress does really highlight my assets. The neckline is cut dangerously low, giving off a considerable view of my cleavage. If I lean too far forward, my tits will fall out completely.

“Anyway, here’s what’s happening. Tonight’s goal is reconnaissance. I need to know how many visible security guards there are inside and what kind of security you go through before getting into the casino proper.”

I nod. “Can do.”

“Try to look for cameras, especially in the lobby and around the edges of the room, but don’t be obvious. If they see you looking for cameras, they may think you’re trying to cheat, and they’ll boot you before you even get through the door.”

I feel like I should be taking notes, but I don’t think that would give Dima much confidence in me.

“Don’t drink,” he continues. “You want to make sure you’re sharp in case anything starts to go wrong. If you think they’re looking at you twice or being shady at all, get out of there. Do you hear me?”

I nod, but that isn’t enough for Dima. He grabs my chin and turns my face to his, gray-blue eyes piercing. “Do you hear me?”

“Yes,” I say, knocking his hand away from me. “I’ll be careful.”

“Good. You’ll have your phone so you can call me if anything goes wrong. I won’t be coming inside tonight, but I’ll wait for you in the parking lot.”

“I can handle it on my own. You don’t have to come with me.”

Dima gives me an unamused look. “I’m not letting you out of my sight for long, Arya.”

He says it’s like it’s meant to be a threat. But the way my body reacts is anything but scared.

When he first showed up in the alley, I was terrified. Part of me still is. That’s what he wants, of course. He’s said as much. He wants me to fear him. To hate him.

Is it possible that it’s because he can’t bring himself to hate me?

Even after all my lies… All my deceptions…

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