The girl—whose name I should know but didn’t—put a hand to her forehead and swayed, clearly growing dizzy. I knew the culprit was her papa’s short fuse—he was a reliable enforcer of mine. I didn’t usually interfere in my men’s family drama, but I gave a silent command to Viktor to speak with him. Good servants were hard to find, and I didn’t appreciate mine being abused so they couldn’t even do their job properly.

“Go,” I told the girl. “You’re no longer required tonight.”

She fled the room without a word.

Alexander’s eyes flared with disgust, probably believing I beat my servants on the regular. I merely raised a brow, amused at the show of bravery. His companion was sweating bullets and was moments away from pleading for his life.

Finally, Mila appeared in the doorway.

I pulled the cigar from my mouth, narrowed eyes sliding down her body and the stupid fucking T-shirt Gianna gave her that barely covered her ass. Elvis’s smirking face front and center was the only amused one in the room.

Anger flushed hot and heady through me, though something else intertwined—something darkly satisfied. It might be the confirmation she clearly had some fight left in her, but it was more likely the fact I was going to spank her ass for this later.

“Come here, kotyonok.”

She hesitated for a beat before complying, avoiding my gaze the entire way. I’d saved a chair for her beside me, but since she disobeyed my order to dress and wouldn’t even give me her eyes in the process, I pulled her tense body into my lap when she reached me.

Mila’s rigid posture told me she couldn’t be more uncomfortable with this seating arrangement, but she didn’t voice her complaint. Ignoring the bound and bruised men with a nonchalance the race of her heart belied, Mila decided she was hungry for dessert.

“Is that medovi—?” The rest of the word came out on a breathy yelp when I cupped a possessive palm over her pussy beneath the table.

She was either the best fucking tease on the planet, or Gianna was stingy with her underwear. Hot, bare cunt pressed against my palm, and the semi I was sporting since Mila’s ass settled on my lap hardened to stone.

“What are you wearing?” I asked darkly in her ear.

She panted, futilely tugging at my hand between her thighs, but she still managed to mock me with the obvious. “A T-shirt?”

I couldn’t decide if her sarcasm angered me or turned me on even more. “Why aren’t you wearing what I sent up for you?”

“I don’t wear silk,” she countered with heat.

I should have known she’d have a problem with the abuse of poor silkworms.

I was a second away from dragging her upstairs and forcing her into that dress, but her response changed things. She had a soft heart. I didn’t want to destroy it. I wanted it in the palm of my hand.

And right now my hand was occupied.

I gave her a warning squeeze. She sucked in a breath, arching her back in an effort to escape my hold, but when she realized she was getting nowhere by struggling, she stilled and dug her blunt nails into my hand.

The smallest amount of disquiet flickered through Albert’s eyes. Mine told him to take his concern and go fuck himself with it. He pulled his gaze back to Alexander, whose expression seethed.

As the hostility in the room grew too abrasive to ignore, Mila finally took in our guests. She seemed to focus on the one with a pretty face.

“Don’t get too excited, kotyonok,” I drawled. “He’s your cousin.”

Her lips parted, the grip on my hand eased, and she took in Alexander and the scene more thoroughly now—from his bound wrists, to the man beside him, to the revolver that sat on the table.

I caressed her soft thigh with my thumb. “No better time for a family reunion, don’t you think?”

She swallowed, and, in unveiled aversion toward my dinner party, she said, “A funeral would be a better time than this.”

A smile touched my lips. “As you can see, we’re still working on my pet’s manners.”

Mila either didn’t like the degrading nickname or her manners being criticized because her nails pressed into my hand, leaving little crescent moons behind, if not blood. Her hair was in my face, curly, untamed, and exuding a faint summery scent. While I would usually be annoyed with a resentful woman on my lap who smelled like innocence and sunshine, I wasn’t there yet.

“Do you remember what I said to your papa?” I asked her.

She shook her head, her eyes on Alexander. I couldn’t say I’d ever had my hand between a woman’s thighs while she stared at another man with devotion. The fact he was her cousin didn’t quell the frustration that flared to life.

Tags: Danielle Lori Made Erotic
Source: readsnovelonline.net