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Chapter 19

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Mikhail

“Areyou coming to the gala or what?” Polina’s not feeling very patient.

I look at the sleeping form of my wife on the bed beside me. Her mouth is gently parted, her hair wild and crazy in waves around her. Pink marks on her bottom and legs. She wears my marks so beautifully I’m beginning to think she’d look naked without them.

I stifle a sigh. I did tell my mother I’d be coming to the gala and bringing my new wife. My family’s eager to see her again.

It’s risky, though.

For the past two weeks, Aria and I have spent nearly every waking moment together. The shipment of computers and monitors she ordered arrived, and she gleefully spends the days typing away while I work. Our nights are filled with nothing but reveling in each other.

It can’t be like this forever, and I know it. But a part of me wonders…why not?

I don’t like sharing and never have. I also don’t want to scare Aria any more than necessary. She met my family at our wedding, but meeting them in person, full force…

Every year, my family hosts a lavish gala, a charity event with an elite guest list. It’s the highlight of Polina and my mother’s year, as they spend months planning the event. Last year’s function raised 2.4 million dollars for the local children’s hospital.

I do not want to take my wife. It’s a worthwhile event, no doubt — hosting a gala of this magnitude allows us to maintain an image of philanthropy. We can maintain our front as legitimate businesspeople while skillfully forming alliances and networking.

It’s a charitable front, but the real heart of it is a major power play.

If Volkov has the nerve to show his face…

“Mikhail, you have to take her. You can only hide her away in that lair of yours so long. No, no, wait. Tigers don’t live in lairs, do they?”

Oh for Christ’s sake. My lair. “Polina…”

“Where do tigers live?”

I blow out a breath. “Tigers are solitary animals and live in lots of places. Some live in dens.”

“Your den! You can’t hide her in your den forever. That sounds awful.”

She’s not making this any easier for me.

I don’t ever go back on my word, though, and I told my mother I’d come.

“I told you I’d come to the gala. I will.”

“Alright, good. Wait. Not just you, right? You weren’t answering my texts so I was starting to get worried.”

I roll my eyes heavenward. “Not alone. And you sent me ten texts about food, seating arrangements, and wine. I don’t care about any of those things.”

“It’s important your bride likes what we give her, Mikhail! What if she hates us? What if I serve the chicken with walnut sauce and she’s allergic to walnuts? What if I make a kale salad and she despises leafy greens?”

I make a face. “Tell me you’re not serving kale salad.”

“Mikhail.”

I shrug. “She’d politely decline and eat something else from the large array of way too much food you’ll be serving us. Or she’ll decline and come home here, where I have enough food for the apocalypse. Who cares?”

“I care. God, sometimes you’re so fucking male.”

I growl. My little sister has been spoiled. “And sometimes you are too forward, little sister. Watch that mouth of yours.”

“You are not my father, Mikhail.”

“Lucky for you I’m not. You wouldn’t have gotten away with half of the things you do now.”

“Tell me about it.” I can see her now, her hands on her hips, her lips pursed.

“Enough, Polina.”

She sighs. “I just wanted to see if you were coming,” she says, in a much more polite tone.

“We will be there. I trust you’ll make the right decisions with the details. If you have any doubts, ask Lev. He’s the one that cares about this shit.”

“Actually? He doesn’t care. He’s the only one nice enough to humor me when I ask him.”

“Well there you go.”

Aria stirs, one eye opening. “I have to go. We’ll be there.”

I hang up the phone before Polina has a chance to reply.

“Mmm,” Aria says, closing her eye again. “I had the strangest dream.”

“Did you?” I stroke my hand on her bare shoulder. “Want to tell me about it? Or are you hungry?”

“Starving. I had no idea rough, toe-curling sex burned so many calories.”

“Rough, toe-curling sex…I like the sound of that.”

Her eyes still closed, she raises her brows. “Oh, I know you do. No doubt. Anyway, in my dream you were talking about tigers and dens and galas. What’s going on?”

I lean my pillows up against the headboard and reach for her, pulling her onto my lap. She curls in like a little kitten. I tuck a blanket around her.

“Every year, the Romanov family hosts this huge gala in the dead of winter. Why winter, I have no idea. Half the time it’s snowing. It’s called the Glacial Gala. Everyone comes to it. Makes us look good. We earn a ton of money and donate it and everyone thinks we’re philanthropists. It’s sort of Polina’s passion.”

“Ahh. So when you say everyone…who might that include?”

“Everyone who’s anyone of influence. Celebrities. Business leaders. Politicians.” I make a face. “Socialites.”

“Yikes. You’d probably rather have your fingernails pulled off one by one, wouldn’t you?”

“Hmm. That’d be a hard choice, but…”

Aria stills. Pressing a finger to her chin, I lift her gaze up. “What is it?”

“Those are the exact people I discovered, Mikhail. You know this, right?”

I nod. “I do. Why do you think I hesitated when talking to Polina? But she’s right. You can’t hide forever. Better parading in front of those who might want to pursue you while wearing your armor.”

“My armor?” she asks curiously, her head tipped to the side.

I bend and take her mouth with mine, a kiss that’s at once sensual and demanding. After last night, I suspected she’d be malleable and eager. I’m not wrong. “Me.”

“Oh, God,” she whispers when I move my mouth to the hollow of her neck. “What are you doing to me?”

“Worshipping you, obviously.” I nip her ear and her back arches. I lick the sore flesh and suck her lobe between my lips. “I love how you taste. I love how you feel.”

Rolling over, I pin her beneath me. “That’s so sexy,” she whispers in a low moan. “Calling yourself my…armor.”

“What else would I call putting myself between you and anyone that threatens or hurts you?”

She smiles against my lips as I take her mouth with mine. I touch my tongue to hers and relish the way she moans and responds, her fingers stabbing into my hair as she wraps her legs around me.

“So fucking beautiful,” I whisper in her ear. “I’d kill for you, Aria. I’d kill anyone that came between you and safety or happiness. Do you understand me?”

I want her to take me fully, as I am. I need her to know who I truly am. Finally, she nods, spreading her legs for me. A silent invitation for me to take her fully.

I plunge myself into her hot, slick pussy.

Her head falls back and she screams in pleasure, her arms wrapped around me. I take her wrists and place them above her head, lowering my full weight on her.

“I understand,” she murmurs. “I do.”

I bend and take her mouth. “Thank you,” she says softly when I pull away.

I wonder if she’ll be thanking me when she knows what else I have in store for her. Will my adoration and protection be enough?

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