His Queen of Clubs (Vegas Underground 6)

He freezes and releases her slowly. “You said to keep her from—” She tries to dart past him, outside, but he blocks her way with his body.

“Yes, keep her inside. I didn’t say you could fucking touch her. This is my bride. You don’t ever fucking dishonor my bride, you understand me? She will be treated with the utmost respect. If I give you an order to limit her actions, you’d better fucking figure out how to accomplish it and still treat her like a fucking queen. Am I perfectly clear?”

“Yes, Vladimir.” He and the other soldier both answer quickly, ducking their heads.

“Alessia, come.” I beckon with my finger. I’m not going to manhandle her after she’s just been assaulted.

She glares at me. “I want to go for a walk.” She’s dressed in a pair of jeans I had Zoya buy for her and a tight women’s t-shirt. The kind that fits around the breasts and makes them look edible. She has a pair of sneakers on her feet.

“If you want to go for a walk, ask me. I will take you out.”

Her jaw thrusts forward. “What if I want to walk alone?”

“Nyet.” I shake my head. “Not allowed. If you leave this house, it’s with me. Your choice.”

She crosses her arms and purses her lips, clearly torn between wanting to go out and not wanting to yield to my rule. “I’m not begging.”

I hide a smile. “I didn’t say you had to beg. Just ask. Come, you want to go now? I’ll take you out.” I walk past my soldiers, who step aside for me, and extend my hand.

She eyes it. “I’m not holding your hand, either.”

A laugh bursts out of me, startling my men. Startling me.

She crosses the threshold unharmed this time, a reluctant smile playing on her lips. We fall into step beside each other, and I lead her toward the path into the trees.

“I like you, Alessia,” I admit.

“I know,” she says, which makes me chuckle again. “Not enough to let me go, though?”

I don’t answer because the truth is the opposite. I like her too much to let her go. But telling her that won’t help my case any.

And I will let her go. I know that. I think she probably knows that, too. Otherwise, I think she’d be freaking out quite a bit more than she is.

I take her on a hike to the lake, because I figure if she was dying for fresh air, a short walk wasn’t going to cut it. It’s a forty minute walk, and I’m surprised to find her short of breath and stopping to rest fairly often.

“Is this the diabetes?” I didn’t know it caused shortness of breath and fatigue. “Do you need a snack?” I curse inwardly for not having food on me. “Let’s turn back.”

“No, I’m all right,” she pants, hands on hips like she’s exhausted. “It’s beautiful out here. I’m having a good time.”

“Does exercise affect your blood sugar?”

“I’m fine. Really. Let’s keep going.”

I’m torn between wanting to please her and worrying over her health. I concede, walking slower and taking breaks. When we arrive at the lake, the delight on her face makes me decide it was worth it.

“Vladimir! This is beautiful! I didn’t know you had a lake. Wow.”

“You like water?”

“Who doesn’t? This is incredible. I can’t believe you didn’t build your house closer.”

I want to reach for her pretty face, stroke it, but there’s distance between us now that she’s no longer tied up. No longer eating from my hand.

I’m wooing her now, not forcing.

“I built where architects advised, for flooding reasons. But yes, it’s beautiful. It’s why I chose this land to buy.”

“Do you swim here?”

“Sometimes. It’s cold.”

She chuckles. “I’ll bet.” She finds a rock near the shore and sits on it, facing the water. “I could sit here all day.”

I sit beside her.

It’s funny. I had this big house built here near the lake, but I’ve never spent any time here enjoying it. Not until now.

I breathe in the fragrant summer air, listen to the sound of birds and insects calling to one another.

I want to pull Alessia onto my lap and inhale her scent, too, but I keep my hands to myself.

“What did you say to the guard who stopped me?” She breaks the peaceful silence.

“I told him never to touch you again.”

Her full lips curve up.

“And when I stabbed you—what did you say to Mika?”

“I gave him earful.”

“I recall. What about? Letting me get a knife or for holding a gun?”

“What do you think?” I ask.

She turns and blinks at me. Her brown eyes are golden in the sunlight. She wears no makeup, and looks as fresh and beautiful as a model.

“You already know the answer.”

“Holding the gun?”

“Pointing it at you.” The memory rushes back. I’d felt no pain from the stabbing in the moment. All I experienced was the stark fear of Mika firing that gun, either on purpose or by accident. No kid should hold a gun—I don’t even know where he got that one. “Christ,” I mutter, shoving my fingers through my hair. “He could’ve killed you.”