The Darkest Temptation (Made 3)

Yulia entered the room, the familiar swish-swash of her dress sounding. Before she could announce breakfast was ready, I gestured for her to come stand beside m

e and said in Russian, “Explain this to me.” I could see as clearly as Yulia, but I still needed confirmation.

She took a second, tilted her head to view the scene at a different angle, then straightened and crossed her arms. “The girl is climbing a tree with a baby crossbill in her hand. She must be trying to see if it can fly.”

I ran a thumb across my bottom lip, which lifted with dry amusement. I knew Mila wasn’t about to drop the baby bird from a tree branch. Rather, it was too young, fell out of its nest, and she was putting it back.

“Birds have parasites.” Yulia wrinkled her nose. “And she’d better not bring all that mud in the house.”

“Thank you, Yulia. I’ll be in for breakfast shortly.”

She nodded, quietly pleased she could be of service, and left the room.

Soon, Mila had an audience. Pavel stepped into view and appeared ready to catch her if she fell, which was laughable given Mila’s height outmatched his and the fact she’d only take him down with her. It became clear his stronger motivation was to get a glimpse up her dress. I couldn’t blame the kid, but I also experienced an odd desire to punch him in the face.

And then there was Albert, the sensible one, just watching Mila navigate her way up a tree with a bird in one hand. Her boot slipped on a branch, and bark fell to the snow before she found a better footing.

I was beginning to feel itchy and uncomfortable everywhere. Yulia better not have put peppermint in my tea. She knew I was allergic and that I broke out in hives worse than a Benadryl commercial.

Grabbing my phone from my pocket, I dialed Albert and brought it to my ear.

“Da?”

“Get her down from there now,” I ordered in Russian.

His gaze coasted over to meet mine through the window. “I tried, boss. She won’t listen.”

“Are you telling me you can’t corral one fucking woman?”

“No. Just not this one.”

What was so fucking different about this one? My eyes drifted up the tree to watch Mila’s ascent. How high was the nest? Heaven? I gritted my teeth and asked, “Why does she look like she’s been bikini mud wrestling?”

He hesitated for a beat before admitting, “She was playing with the dogs.”

The line went intensely silent for a beat.

“Not Khaos.” It was more of a growl than a question. The dog had turned aggressive and unpredictable, and he needed to be put down.

“Nyet.”

I was glad he had a little sense.

“I told her to not touch the bird. The mother won’t come back now.”

This was why Khaos still breathed even though he’d bitten five of my men. Albert couldn’t kill a fucking insect.

“That’s a myth,” I told him impatiently.

He scratched his cheek and made a casual sound that felt anything but. “That’s exactly what she said.”

“I want her down in the next five seconds,” I snapped and hung up.

The last thing I wanted to do right now was talk Mila down from a fucking tree. She’d probably insult me before climbing higher, and if I had to touch her right now . . .

Albert argued with Mila, who was clearly vehement about her conservationist efforts. After returning the bird to its nest, she began her descent back to earth. The relief was short-lived when, from ten feet aboveground, her grasp on the branch slipped. She slid a foot down the tree before she found purchase on another branch, and if I wasn’t mistaken, she laughed. Albert grabbed her ankle and tugged her down into his arms before setting her on solid ground.

I watched Mila brush pine needles off her muddy coat.