Page 38 of The Payback

Ana, clearly not worried about her safety, snorts behind her hand at my comment. Aleksandr shoots her a warning glance. The giant has been quiet most of the night, only speaking when spoken to, and this is the most animation I’ve seen from him. His and his brother’s file say they’re called the “tanks.” So far, he’s shown as much emotion as the war vehicle.

“That’s good,” Sergei says. “Keeping your wife happy is no simple task, nephew. But it sounds like you’re off to a good start.”

Dimitri doesn’t answer, just returns his attention to his meal and slips his finger into my wet pussy, not moving it, just letting it rest there as if to remind me what he owns.

Oksana peppers me with questions throughout the meal. Nothing too personal, but they’re frequent enough that it’s taking forever to finish my meal as I have to keep pausing to answer her. What's worse is, Dimitri's hand is still taking up residence between my thighs and he chooses the most inopportune times to begin stroking me, bringing me right to the edge and then backing off. I'm fucking shaking from the waist down. To the point I'm honestly surprised the silverware on the table in front of me hasn't started rattling. I've been reduced to a needy, dripping mess, and Dimitri loves it.

Oksana invites me for tea next week, and Anastasia bumps my knee with hers when I miss the invite the first time because I’m so focused on my husband’s hand. It causes a shift in Dimitri’s fingers and my teeth to grind together. A smile quirks my lips as I graciously accept, insisting Ana come with us. If I have to go to tea with her mother, she’s coming with me.

With the meal finished, Dimitri withdraws his hand, leaving me feeling empty and wanting. He meticulously folds his napkin and places it beside his plate.

Dimitri looks at me, lifts his fingers to his lips, and sticks them into his mouth as if to suck off some errant sauce from his meal. But my pussy was certainly not on the menu tonight, despite his stealing a taste. An appreciative hum leaves his lips as he pulls them away. Smirking, he turns to the server and simply says, “Delicious.”

The man accepts the praise none the wiser, while I hide my rapidly heating face behind a curtain of hair.

Before the server can begin listing dessert options, Dimitri stands. “We need to be off, Uncle. Thank you for inviting us.”

Offering me his hand—the one that was just licked clean—Dimitri tugs me up from my seat, the rest of the men following suit, standing as I do, as is customary in old school, proper etiquette.

Nik goes first, guiding us through the restaurant, and as a group, we exit the restaurant and wait off to the side of the entrance for the drivers to pull up.

The night is warm enough not to need a jumper, and after the feverish experience in the restaurant, I welcome the cool air as it settles on my skin.

The men chat as Anastasia—who insists I now call her Ana—her mom, and I stand just off to the side of their huddle. Dimitri’s hand rests on the small of my back, keeping us within touching distance even as we are in two different circles, and when I try to step away to join the other women, he grips the back of my dress, keeping me in place. I resign myself to my fate, staying within arm’s reach.

Nik says something, pulls out his phone, and turns it around to show Dimitri, Aleksandr, and Sergei. Dimitri leans in to get a better look and in doing so, his hand momentarily slips from my back.

All at once, a series of events rush by in a millisecond.

There’s a squeal of tyres from the street as a black van speeds up and then screeches to a halt in front of the restaurant. Dimitri reaches for me, and the sliding door to the van slams open, the neon lights of the nearby billboards glinting off the muzzles of two guns.

Everything speeds up and slows down all at once.

Nik takes Dimitri’s and Sergei’s arms, blocking them both with his body and shoving them towards the valet stand. The gunmen from the van open fire, and I throw Ana towards Aleksandr, who scoops her into his arms and ducks and rolls away. But Oksana is too far from everyone, having lit her cigarette downwind.

Despite my heels, I lunge for her, tackling her to the ground as a bullet whizzes over my head, right where Oksana’s head was an instant ago, and a second clips my upper arm. An agonising burn races through me, but I focus on the woman I’m trying to save on the dirty pavement as she screams.

I roll with her, gritting my teeth against the pain and tucking us behind a car as the van revs and peels away from the restaurant, leaving screaming passersby around us. I assess Oksana, finding her shaken but thankfully unharmed.

Dimitri launches himself past Nik, headed right for me, his face a mask of rage and anger as he reaches me and pulls me into his arms.

He’s not hurt. He’s fine. Both of them are. I look over his shoulder and find Nik dusting off his suit jacket and frowning at a spot on the sleeve.

I hear nothing but the buzz of my adrenaline high, even as Dimitri shakes me in his arms and shouts at me. He pulls his hand away from my arm, blood coating those same fingers he used in me earlier.

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” he roars at me.

I just blink up at him. Oksana is sobbing behind me as Sergei helps her up. Ana shivers behind a stoic and pissed-off Aleksandr as he looks down the street towards where the van disappeared.

I’ve been in firefights before. Hell, I’m trained for this. ButElsaisn’t, and she has an audience right now.

Letting tears flood my eyes, I cry in earnest, already repeating the licence plate in my head so I don’t forget it. Dimitri gathers me into his embrace, and the cars come around the corner with the none-the-wiser drivers behind the wheels of the three vehicles.

Nik checks me over with his dark eyes, his jaw ticking when he sees my bleeding arm. He flicks his nose again, and I shake my head once more.

People come pouring out of the restaurant behind us, looking for trouble instead of staying far away. Dimitri throws a handful of bills at the valet stand, probably enough to cover the damage to the restaurant’s façade. He ushers me into the car, Nik following Dimitri in and slamming the door behind him.

“What the fuck, Ellie?” Nik barks as the driver pulls away.

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