Ravaged Throne: A Russian Mafia Romance (Solovev Bratva #2)(83)

“I don’t know about this.”

“This is how we do things here, Willow.”

I groan. “Jesus. ‘The fucking Bratva way.’ I don’t know how you can live with this constant weight on your chest. God knows I’m sick of it. No wonder you murdered the punching bag.”

He smiles. “I was seeing Belov’s face every time my fist struck.”

“If only it were really him.”

“I would love to gut the bastard myself. But I promised that honor to Ariel. She deserves the closure.”

I pause and consider that. “You’re probably right. But will she get it?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. Some days, I fear she’s gone too far down the rabbit hole to ever come back.”

I shudder, remembering how dead and flat her eyes looked when Belov smashed her face into the table at the meeting. “Don’t say that.”

“Avoiding hard truths doesn’t help anyone, Willow.”

“Maybe not, but for once, can’t you just pretend?” I ask. “Can’t you just pretend that everything’s going to work out and we’re going to have a happy ending?”

He smiles. “Okay. Let’s pretend.”

I groan. “Why do I feel like you’re about to make me regret this?”

“Let’s have dinner tonight,” he continues. “For one night, we can pretend that all this is behind us. We can pretend everything is fine, and we’re happy.”

“You’re taking this further than I thought you would.”

He holds out a hand to me. “Is that a yes?”

I sigh. This isn’t exactly what I had in mind, but I know enough to know this: Leo Solovev always gets what he wants.

So I take his hand and we go inside.





33





LEO





Willow is late for dinner.

The food has been out for five minutes. The crab legs in curry leaf leche de tigre are starting to get cold.

Then I hear footsteps on the stairs.

I look up. Sky-high black heels give way to long, gorgeous legs as she rounds the spiral staircase.

She has on a slinky silver dress with the thinnest straps imaginable. The neckline is deep, highlighting her gorgeous breasts.

The hem falls below her knees, but it follows the curves of her body closely, leaving little to the imagination.

She’s brushed out her hair and left it loose around her shoulders. It falls in rich, silky waves.

As she walks towards me, I’m transfixed by the way her hips are moving. I blink and pull myself together before I can start to drool.

“Sorry I’m late,” she murmurs.

I force my eyes up to her face. We may be pretending tonight, but I don’t have to fake my reaction. “It was worth the wait. You’re a fucking vision.”

Her lips turn up in a shy smile, and color blooms on her cheeks. She tries to hide her pleasure as she sits down gracefully next to me.

“Thank you. You look pretty dapper yourself.”

I haven’t taken as many pains as she has, but I know I pass muster. I’ve gone for fitted pants and a black button-down that hugs my biceps closely.

Still, she seems as preoccupied with my appearance as I am with hers. She hasn’t even looked at the intricately set table and food.

“Hungry?” I ask.

She shakes her head slowly and gnaws at her bottom lip. “Not for food.”

Our eyes meet, and the heat that passes between us is raw and palpable.

“Come over here,” I order huskily.

Instead of arguing back like she usually does, she obeys with an alluring lowered gaze that makes my cock spring to attention. She rises from her seat slowly and struts around the table, coming to a stop between my parted legs. Her fingers graze over my shoulders and down my biceps.

I want to tear her gorgeous dress off with my teeth.

But I resist.

Because tonight, I want to take my time. I want to savor her body.

“Sit down.”

She doesn’t straddle me. Instead, she tucks one leg under the other and sits down daintily on my lap.

I like this position, though. I run my hand under the slit of her dress, smoothing my palm up the length of her thigh. With the other hand, I cup her cheek and run a thumb across her plump lips.

She keeps her eyes fixed on me. This whole moment feels like a fever dream. Every sensation is heightened to the fullest and beyond.

“You dressed up for me,” I point out with a wry smirk.

“We’re pretending we’re normal, happy people tonight, right? I figured getting dressed up was more normal than coming down stark naked.”

I chuckle at the memory. “I wouldn’t have minded either way.”

She reaches up and runs her fingers through my hair slowly, brushing it away from my face and sighing softly. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“Always?”

She nods. “Since the first night I met you in that restaurant. You have amazing hair.”

“Why haven’t you?”

She shrugs. “It’s too intimate, isn’t it? Too gentle. That’s never been our thing. But tonight… I’m pretending it is. Let me lie to myself.”

She leans in and places her lips over mine. The kiss is light as a feather. It makes me crave more.