You Don't Own Me 2 (The Russian Don 2)

‘All right, Dahlia?’ he asks, his eyes never leaving Mark.

‘It’s all right, Noah. This is my friend, Mark,’ I explain hurriedly.

Mark immediately holds out his hand, but Noah rudely ignores it. ‘We should go,’ he says still staring at Mark.

Mark lets his hand drop to his side.

‘Nice to see you again, Mark,’ I say awkwardly.

For an instant it looks as if Mark is going to say something, then he flashes a lop-sided smile and says, ‘Yeah, it was great to see you again. You look beautiful.’

Next to me Noah stiffens even more.

To diffuse the situation I trust Stella’s shoe into Mark’s hand. ‘Give this to Stella for me, will you?’ I say.

He grasps the shoe and nods.

I smile and follow Noah to his car. When we get to it I turn around and Mark is still standing there clutching the shoe. I wave and he waves back. I feel something strange inside me, like a warning, or an instinct that something bad is going to happen, but I am too tipsy to make any sense of it.

I slide into the passenger seat, Noah closes the door, and the feeling evaporates. I turn around in my seat to look at Mark, but he is gone. I crane my neck looking for him, but he has completely disappeared. Maybe he went down one of the side streets.

Noah gets in and starts the car. I quickly text Stella and tell her that Mark has her shoe before turning to Noah.

‘What kind of car is this?’ I ask. The interior smells of leather, glue, resin, and polished metal. A truly masculine smell.

‘It’s a TVR Sagaris.’

‘Hmm … it’s a gorgeous car.’

‘Thank you.’

‘How fast can it go?’

‘Zero to 60mph in 3.9 seconds.’

‘Wow, and the top speed?’

‘185mph,’ he says instantly and there is quiet pride in his voice.

‘I bet you get a lot of speeding tickets.’

He grins. ‘I don’t get speeding tickets.’

I turn to look at his profile. ‘How come?’

He winks. ‘Trade secret.’

I lift my hands up as if in surrender. ‘OK.’

There is a pause.

‘Have you worked for Zane for long?’ I ask and I don’t imagine the wariness that enters his body.

‘Not really.’

‘Have you lived in London all your life?’

‘No,’ he says shortly.

‘What about Zane?’

‘You’ll have to ask him that yourself.’

Just to see his reaction I ask, ‘What’s Zane favorite color?’

He scowls. ‘I have no idea.’

Jesus, getting information from him is like getting blood from stone. I throw my hands up. ‘Is there anything at all you can tell about Zane?’

He glances at me. ‘Not really.’

I reach forward and switch on the stereo and a Russian pop song comes on.

‘Who’s singing?’ I ask.

‘Pussy Riot.’

I stare at him. ‘Are you kidding me?’

‘Nope. I’m a big fan.’

I shake my head. ‘Of a band called Pussy Riot?’

He gives me a cocky look. ‘With a name like that what’s not to like?’

Nine

Dahlia Fury

Yuri opens the door for us and says something to Noah in rapid Russian who looks at his watch and immediately starts walking towards the study. I guess we didn’t make the twelve o’clock curfew.

‘Thanks for bringing me home, Noah,’ I call to his retreating back.

He lifts his hand in acknowledgement but doesn’t break his stride.

‘Goodnight,’ Yuri says.

‘Yeah, same to you,’ I reply and run up the stairs.

I actually feel a bit queasy. Getting into such a low swung fast car after drinking so much and eating a whole bag of greasy fries is not exactly a good idea.

I quickly clean my make up off, brush my teeth, use the toilet, change into my nightgown and go down to Zane’s bedroom. I open the door and he is already there. I have the impression that he is full of leashed energy, that he was pacing the floor impatiently, even though he is standing with his legs shoulder-width apart and looking at me with a deliberately blank expression. Sexy as hell, actually.

‘Hi,’ I greet.

‘Noah says a man was waiting for you,’ he says neutrally.

‘Mark was not waiting for me,’ I scoff. ‘We just ran into each other outside the bar.’ I shake my head. ‘I can’t believe Noah is such an old woman. Imagine running to you with that bit of gossip.’

‘It’s not a bit of gossip. It is Noah’s job to notice even the smallest inconsistencies. You didn’t just run into him. He was waiting for you and only approached you when you were alone.’

I frown. I guess he is right. Mark was waiting for me. I shrug. ‘It doesn’t matter. We’re just friends now.’

‘Is he the boyfriend that you talked about?’ His voice is very quiet, his eyes intense.

‘Yes, but I ended it before I came here and our relationship had not become physical.’

‘Are you still in contact with him?’

‘Yes. He’s a nice guy.’

‘I don’t want you to see him again.’

‘Why? We’re just friends. I feel nothing for him but friendship.’