“Spoken by an unrepentant sinner.”
“Of course,” he agreed.
As the bastard of a nobleman he had received a fine education, but was forbidden to take his place among society. At the same time, he was too cultured to be accepted among the peasants. With no true place in the world, he had turned his ruthless willpower to creating an empire of his own making.
Leading Emma up the stairs, he nodded toward his guards and entered the large octagonal vestibule that was tastefully decorated with a black-and-white-tiled floor reflected in the silver-framed mirrors that lined the walls.
At their entrance a tall servant with a regal bearing approached to offer a deep bow.
“Vladimir will take your wrap,” Dimitri informed his silent companion, his brows lifting as she clutched the velvet cloak with a white-knuckled grip. Did the chit fear his servant intended to make off with her clothing? “I promise you it will be returned.”
“Very well.”
Her chin lifted as she tugged off the cloak with a swift motion and handed it to the waiting servant. In a
heartbeat, the crowd came to a captivated halt as all eyes turned toward Emma.
It was not that her gown was particularly shocking. Indeed, it was a deceptively simple sheath cut to reveal her shoulders and gathered beneath the gentle swell of her bosom. It was more the shimmer of the gold satin that molded to her slender body. And the tiny diamonds that glittered along the low-cut line of her bodice that drew attention to the perfection of her ivory skin.
Combined with the satin tumble of honey hair and the promise of her sensuous lips, it was enough to make every male in the club crave to have her in his bed.
Including Dimitri.
Muttering a startled curse, he grasped her upper arm and hauled her through a nearby alcove, tugging her down the short hall until he could thrust her into the privacy of his office. It was a plain room, with cream walls and parquet floor. The desk set near the fireplace was a pale cedar that matched the rest of the furnishing and the draperies were a soft shade of rose.
Slamming shut the door, he turned to glare at his companion in the muted light of the fireplace.
“What the devil are you wearing?”
With a sharp tug, she freed her arm from his grasp. “You were the one to insist I dress in an appropriate fashion.”
Clearly, he had been out of his mind, he acknowledged, searing a hungry gaze over the delectable curve of her breasts.
“Appropriate, not designed to create a riot.”
“It is no more revealing than those gowns worn by the finest ladies in St. Petersburg,” she protested.
“Then why did Prince Matvey nearly knock himself senseless by walking straight into a wall? And why did one of my most trusted servants drop an entire tray of champagne?” he growled.
“You are being ridiculous. I witnessed women wearing far more daring gowns before you so rudely hauled me away.”
A voice of reason whispered that he was overreacting, but Dimitri was in no mood to listen. Not when his entire body burned with the need to haul her to the nearest bed.
“Perhaps more daring,” he husked, “but none so enticing.”
She nervously licked her lips, the unwitting gesture making Dimitri groan in frustration.
“First you complain my gown is too prudish and now you complain it is too revealing. Are you never satisfied?”
Unable to resist temptation, he stepped close enough to trail his fingers along the elegant line of her shoulders. His body stirred, hardened; responding to her with a near painful intensity.
It wasn’t uncommon for him to desire a woman.
He was a healthy male with all the normal appetites.
But this biting ache combined with a fierce possessiveness was utterly unfamiliar.
And equally unwelcome.