“Where do you need to go?” My voice was low, so low in fact that I was unsure if she had even heard me. I watched her throat bob - in anticipation? In fear? I couldn’t fucking tell, but what we were doing here wasn’t a game. I thought after Olek she knew that.
She glared up at me, defiance etched in every facet of her face.
“I have a Charity gala,” I could feel her temper rising as she stared up at me from the ground, having just finished patting down the soil.
“You,” I seethed, “have been contracted to us for this period and we are in the middle of hostile negotiations,” I spat, “so you will remain here.”
She stood up so quickly I had to fight the urge to take a step backwards. Her robe swung open entirely, revealing exactly how short her slip was. My gaze lingered on her exposed thigh, and it took me longer than it should to realise that she was talking. No, that wasn’t quite right either, she was defying me, challenging my order.
“.... necessary that I attend this,” she fumed, “I am a key contributor to this organisation.”
I shrugged, “Send someone in your family if it means that much to you.”
She stomped her foot on the ground. She actually stomped her fucking foot.
“No,” her voice rose with every word she spoke, “this is my organisation - not theirs, and I will be damned if I allow you to dictate where I can and cannot go while I am here.”
“You are contracted to us,” I ground out.
“Exactly,” she snapped, and even with her feet covered in mud, dressed only in her slip of a nightgown, her cotton covering open, she looked regal, a Queen challenging the King, “you are my client. You do not own me, Dimitri.”
I stepped forward, eliminating any personal space she may have had. Dipping my head low, I whispered in her ear, “Not yet.”
I turned around, walking back towards the house, leaving her there, alone on the lawn, allowing my words to sink into her.
Fuck her, and fuck my body’s response to her.
“I will accompany you to your function,” I called over my shoulder.
“Send Stepen or someone else from your organisation if you feel the need to accompany me, but I don’t exactly feel like spending my free time with you.”
“Not fucking happening, Bambi.”
This time, I didn’t even bother to throw my voice in her direction - I didn’t care if she heard me or not, and I certainly wouldn’t be sending Stepen - not after last night.
She wanted to play with fire? Fine, then we would both burn. I would not be challenged, and if I had to teach her that lesson using any dirty trick I had, then so be it. But this would be the last time that Corinne Rand rose up against me. I was going to encroach on her life - on her world - until it became so unbearable that she would willingly submit.
The charity function was for displaced and impoverished children in Louisiana, centering on the need for education. Louisiana’s poor schooling rank worked to our benefit when it came to recruiting foot soldiers, but I wasn’t about to tell Corinne that, especially when she looked like she would cut off her left hand just to help these kids.
Corinne was a paradox, one minute she was demanding I take her to the top of the damn grain silo so she could witness Olek’s death, and the next she was sitting at a hoity toity charity dinner like a fucking stepford wife, only she actually gave a shit about these kids.
And, as was custom at these dull events, corporations bought out entire tables, sponsoring an array of items that would be put up for auction at the end of this dinner. One man had offered his yacht for a weekend. I wondered what the starting bid for that would be.
Corinne was dressed in a black floor length silk dress that clung to her in much the same fashion as her night slip had. Fuck, I needed to stop thinking about that. Maybe when all of this was over, I should visit Helen at Club Burlesque. She knew the deal and one thing was certain - she would be a lot less fucking complicated than bedding a Witch.
The black dress somehow appeared darker against Corinne’s pale complexion. It should have overpowered her, drowned her in its severity. Instead, it made her look dramatic. She commanded a room without even realising it, her understated grace and quiet beauty was refreshing - at least compared to the women I was used to. Although I would never admit that to her, or anyone, for that matter. I didn’t think I had ever known anyone quite so innocent. Even when I was exploring sexually, Arlo had paid off one of the girls, allowing me to have my way with her. I was fifteen when that happened. If you ask Arlo, he’ll tell you that it was to ensure that, even as a teen, I wasn’t thinking with my dick when it came to our business, but I think the old man just wanted to give me one good first experience, especially after our lives went to hell after my parents died.
The understated dipped vee of her neckline was sinful when paired with her cleavage. She may be innocent, but that didn’t mean her body wasn’t all woman. I never found the appeal of bedding a virgin - honestly, it always seemed like a lot of effort for quite honestly, a shit time. But with Corinne, I was already certain it would be different. And those were not the kind of thoughts I should be having at a gala dinner, let alone about the Witch Arlo employed.
I sat at the godforsaken table - the same one Corinne had probably fucking paid for, sticking out among this crowd like a sore thumb. I was dressed the same as all the guys here, and yet, nothing about this suit - this place - fit. Because there was absolutely nothing nefarious about me being here. I wasn’t here to show face. This wasn’t even one of our own charities. I was only here because of her.
Corinne didn’t really fit either, even if she was born to this setting - these people - this society. She glided in and out of the crowd, always keeping herself a slight distance apart. She knew she didn’t fit in here, she just hadn’t accepted it. She was just as much a wolf beneath the surface as I was, the only difference was that she grew up being forced to suppress her natural instincts, where I embraced mine.
She finally seated herself next to me, refusing to even glance my way. Fucking fine. She was prissy ever since she had to call the organisation and explain that she was bringing a plus one. Worse still, that plus one was me. I didn’t give a fuck, and honestly I don’t think the organisation did either - not when Corinne was funneling money into them. But to see her fury was a thing of sweetness. She shifted in her seat, her shoulder and back positioned towards me, and I had to sit and listen to her have the most boring conversation on the planet with some suit next to her who was content to prattle on about the stock market.
I saw it now. None of these men did it for her. They weren’t even men, not really. And I couldn’t really blame her for her innocence, not when the men around her were so bland her wolf would have spat them out. There was no chase, no play, no fire.
I smirked behind her as she pretended to be intrigued by the suit's conversation. She didn’t yet know why she didn’t fit in - why none of these men could get under her skin. I had seen the way she had looked at me. The way her eyes flared with desire each time she argued with me as if she were waging a war upon herself. Same, Bambi, fucking same.