Nikolai_Through The Devil's Eyes (Russian Mob Chronicles Book 6) by Shandi Boyes

Author:Shandi Boyes [Boyes, Shandi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sky High Publishing
Published: 2020-04-16T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

"The marinade on the steak? What is it?"

Justine pushes her half-consumed plate of steak, mashed potatoes, and steamed vegetables to my side of the table before raising her gorged eyes to mine. She looks just how she would have looked if Trey hadn’t interrupted us—thoroughly satisfied.

The yearning in her eyes detonates when I murmur, “I’ve only tasted one thing more delicious than this steak…” I pause when the hunger in my tone enflames her cheeks. “Fuck, Ahren, I love the way you blush. If there weren’t cameras watching my every move, I would be spreading you out on this table and eating you for dessert.”

Although Trey’s interruption could have been held off for an hour or two, it was for the best. I was so eager to feed on the lust teeming between Justine and me, I completely forgot about the cameras watching my every move. Trey’s arrival reminded me I wasn’t just risking my crew seeing Justine in a vulnerable state. I was placing her on Vladimir’s radar as well.

For my entire life, anything I ever wanted, Vladimir took. The love of my mother. The devotion of my siblings when he grew worried our bond was becoming unbreakable. If I so much as showed an interest in something or someone, he made it his.

I scoot closer to Justine, squashing her into the far corner of the dining nook. Vladimir’s surveillance is top of the range, but not even the most advanced equipment has the ability of recording through concrete support beams.

Needing my hands on her in some way, I twist a piece of Justine’s hair around my finger. It’s as silky and as smooth as her pasty-white skin. Something so simple shouldn’t appease the hesitation I’m certain I was born with, but for some reason, it does.

Justine reads the carefreeness in my eyes in the wrong manner. “You can trust me, Nikolai. Anything you say won’t leave this room.”

My lips twist into an uneasy grin. “If only that were true.” I keep my voice low enough the poor quality microphones in the cameras won’t pick up my reply. “I don’t trust anyone, Ahren. The devil was once an angel too.” Hating the fear trickling into her greenish blue eyes, I veer our conversation back onto mutual territory. “Now tell me about the marinade on the steak before I spend my afternoon hunting for a much more succulent recipe.”

I anticipate for her to respond to the fight in her eyes, so you can imagine my surprise when she jests, “If you want my Nonna's secret recipe, I would first have to kill you.”

“Nonna? So you’re Italian?” Shock resonates in my tone. She could only be paler if she was a vampire.

When she answers my question with a simple ‘yes’ I say, “Then where did you get your red hair and pasty skin tone from?" I tug on the strand of hair I was twisting earlier, causing an avalanche of curls to cover the slithers of silver on her shoulders.

Her blistering smile has me once again forgetting we have an audience.

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