He put his glass back. "It's nothing."
I reached across the table, taking his hand in both of mine. When I stroked the skin beside a cut, his muscles tensed and he exhaled a long breath.
Did even an innocent touch of mine affect him so much? How . . . heady.
I wondered what he'd do if I blew him. Visions of taking him between my lips filled my mind. Sucking and teasing his dick. Tonguing his silver piercing as his powerful body quaked. Making him desperate to come . . . until he was helplessly fucking my mouth. . . .
"There," he suddenly said. "Your cheeks grew flushed. What were you just thinking?"
I released his hand. "This and that." My panties were going to be soaked.
"I would kill to know what you're musing about when you blush. Will you not tell me?"
"Hmm. Maybe I'll show you later."
"Tease."
Only always. I lifted my glass again. "You really don't drink a lot, huh?"
He shook his head. "I don't relish feeling out of control. Except for during sexual play with you. Then I want to keep control--right up until the time you steal it from me."
I almost fanned myself at his hungry look, a sight I'd never forget. In the candlelight, he was spellbinding.
I wasn't the only one who thought so. Two babes sashayed past our cabana--for the third time--audibly sighing over him.
"You get that everywhere, huh?"
"Get what?" He was oblivious.
"Attention from women." I swirled my finger around the rim of my glass. "What was your last relationship?"
"I've never had one."
I waited for that nails-over-chalkboard sensation, but he was telling the truth. "So you are a player."
"No. I am not."
"You can't have it both ways." I could do the math. If he took a new lover anytime he wanted sex, the notches on his belt would start adding up.
"What was your last relationship?" he asked.
I let him get away with not answering me. "About a year ago, I broke up with a guy I'd been with for nearly two years. We were engaged." Brett had been so normal, his life an open book. Back then, I'd equated normal and open with honest. "The wedding was weeks away." I'd just gotten a passport for our honeymoon to the Caribbean, and I'd been finishing up a wedding gown that had given me fits for months. Creating it had felt like drudgery, which should've been a clue.
"He allowed you to break up with him?"
Allowed? "What should he have done?"
Dmitri held my gaze. "If I'd been him, I would have fought for you."
His words sent a tingle through me. "Who said Brett hasn't been doing just that?" Each Sunday, I pictured him struggling to come up with another e-mail, to tap into my memories of better times and reach some part of me not hardened by his infidelity.
"Yet you haven't taken him back."
I raised my chin. "He cheated on me."
"I am very sorry, Vika," he said in a sincere tone. "That must have been painful."
"It was." I'd considered my wedding gown so tainted with bad luck I'd scissored it to shreds instead of selling it. "You know, everyone had bet against us, but I was determined." Being with Brett had made me ask questions I'd never asked before.
What if I didn't have to grift? What if I gave people my real name--all the time? What if I made clothes for a living? "I really thought we had a shot."
"Are you tempted to return to him?"
Life had been pretty good. I'd moved in with him, and he'd paid for my car. I'd limited my grift work, and enrolled in fashion design classes. He'd cooked, and I'd cleaned. We'd lived modestly.
Yes, hiding my cons had been stressful, but nothing like I struggled with now. Even if my family settled our debt, I was still getting evicted and driving an unreliable truck. Of course, now I owned a Porsche. But not for long. God, this was all so confusing. I absently murmured, "I don't know."
A muscle in Sevastyan's jaw pulsed. "And this is why you're so cautious."
Partly. "Let's not talk about him anymore."
After a hesitation, he said, "Agreed. Tell me more about you."
"Where should I begin?" I'd been intimate with Dmitri--twice--yet we knew so little about each other.
"What makes Victoria Valentine tick?" A wayward breeze tousled his black hair.
Right now golden-eyed Russians make my pulse race. "Compared to the women you usually meet, I'm sure I live a boring life."
He didn't address that. "Where did you go to school?"
"I was homeschooled. My parents wanted me to go into the family business. They could teach me better than anyone."
"Tell me about your family."
"My folks are still mad for each other after thirty years of marriage. My big sister, Karin, is my best friend. My brother is my hero. I have an extended family I love. In their own way, they're all overprotective of me. But I think . . ." I trailed off.
"You think what?"
They underestimate me. "Nothing. What about your family? You said Maksim basically raised you." Some of Maksim's charm must've rubbed off on his little brother. Maybe that was why I detected such a mix of polish and uncertainty in Dmitri.
"My mother died when I was five, my father when I was seven."
"I'm sorry." I was about to ask him how, but his changeable expression gave me pause. Instead of sadness, I perceived . . . anger.
Dmitri's busted knuckles whitened on his glass. Then he inhaled, as if for calm.
I grasped for a change of subject. "You seem to get along really well with Lucia."
"Yes. I like her very much." He frowned, then said, "At first, I didn't. I didn't like the idea of her. I didn't like how my brother was acting. I was not shy in letting him know." His tone implied an understatement.
"What do you mean?"
"He was a sworn bachelor who saw only escorts. His longest 'relationship' was an hour. Then I heard rumors he was obsessed with one woman--after a single date--and living with her after their second. For him to veer so drastically from all the years before, I wondered if he was having some kind of early midlife crisis."
"What changed your mind?"
"It's not a pretty story."
I waved him on. "Please."
"A man targeted her for her money, learning everything about her, then courting her." Oh. Shit. He sounded like a con artist, maybe a serial groom. But a true grifter would never target a good person.
Aren't I right now? No sins, still in?
Dmitri continued, "He tricked her into marrying him, planning to murder her once she'd signed over everything."
"My God." Not a con artist. He was a killer who'd stolen some of our methods to do evil. Step nine in the progression of the long con was not murder your mark. "The man sounds like a psychopath."
"He was. She ran from him for years, but he found her and stabbed her in the chest before my brother could reach her."
My eyes went wide. I couldn't imagine anyone taking a knife to the lovely girl I'd laughed with. "Then what happened?"
"The man pulled a gun on Maksim, had a bead on his head, but my brother charged him anyway." Dmitri couldn't sound prouder. "Maksim would have died if Lucia hadn't found the strength to hit that fuck's arm at the last second. Maksim took a bullet in the shoulder."
"I had no idea."
He shrugged. "It's not something we lead with."
I put my elbow on the table and rested my chin on my hand. "Your brother charged a loaded gun for her?"
"Da." Now Dmitri couldn't look prouder. "He was ready to give his life for her. How could I deny what that meant?"
So Maksim was part of the three percent. Had his younger brother been cut from the same cloth? "What about Aleks? You're not as close to him?"
"Before one year ago, I did not speak to him." The mended fence. Yet another of Dmitri's changes that had taken place around that time. "I had not even been in the same room with him in decades, not since we were young."
"Why?" I couldn't imagine being estrang
ed like that from a loved one. Sure, my family could frustrate me, but they would lay down their lives for me in a heartbeat. Just as I'd do for any of them.
"He was not there for me when I very badly needed him to be." Dmitri gazed away, the wheels of his complicated mind turning.
Oh, yes, this man had been hurt. And he'd longed for his oldest brother to have helped him in some way. Dmitri's history was a puzzle, but I could be patient, easing information from him here and there.
Yet then I frowned. I only had eighteen days with him, at best. Surely, he'd be called back to Russia soon. "I'm sorry, Dmitri. But you've since worked things out with Aleks, right?"
"Yes, we've reconciled," he said, his thoughts still clearly mired in the past.
I wanted to jolt him back to the present. With me. "Hey, big guy, did you have a near-death experience about a year ago?"
His gaze snapped to my face. "Why would you say that?"
"You started talking to Aleks, you began working out, and you got the idea to try BDSM. You also got pierced." So that things would be different. "Did you make any other changes?"
"Yes. Many. It was time for me to." Making his tone lighter, he said, "Come, let's speak of happier things. If you didn't work at the Calydon, what would you do?"
He hadn't answered my near-death question, but I let it go. "I would design and create clothing. I made this dress you both love and hate. I make all my clothes."
He raised his brows. "You must want to pursue your talent."