Vengeance Aside (Wanted Men 0.5)(14)

Nodding once, she ducked back into the bathroom to shimmy out of her shorts and bustier. After shucking the fishnets, she stepped into the dress Farah had handed her a minute ago and dragged it up her body. Luckily, the classic velvet creation had a built-in bra.

“This is stunning,” she said as she came out and turned so Farah could zip her up. She could have easily reached the low zip that only came mid-way up her back, but if anyone was going to get it stuck or break it, it would be the owner of the dress herself.

“I’ve never worn it because this shade of green doesn’t work for me.” She turned Dale around by the shoulders. “But it does for you. Your eyes just exploded all over me. Now get your shoes on and get gone. I don’t want to have to listen to Lukas bitch about the time it takes us to change.”

“Would he? Bitch at you, I mean?” They must be close.

“Sure. If he’s in a bad mood. Samuel said he kissed you.”

Warning! Warning! Trap has been set.

“Your husband has never even sneezed in my direction let alone kissed me, Farah,” Dale promised, deliberately misunderstanding. “Swear to God.”

Thank fuck Gretchen, another of Dale’s co-workers appeared in the doorway as Dale shoved her feet into her stillies as fast as she could.

“He just called me, Farah.” Gretchen’s tanned skin looked sallow, her normally bright eyes dull. And she wasn’t smiling, which was unusual.

“Who?” Farah asked after giving Dale a sly look that said she knew what she was about.

“Garrett.”

Their boss’s eyes widened as her attention shifted. “Are you shitting me?”

Gretchen shook her head and came into the office with her phone on offer. “He left a message.”

Grateful for the distraction, Dale got moving. “I have to go. Thanks for the dress.” She blew Farah a kiss and gave Gretchen a sympathetic smile before leaving. Garrett Dawson was a pain-in-the-ass customer who crushed on all the girls. One as pretty as Gretchen shouldn’t have expected to be any different, though, if Garrett was bothering her more aggressively than he had the rest of them, Dale was glad Gretchen was bringing it to Farah’s attention.

As she hurried down the hall toward the back of the building, questions whizzed through her head? Had Samuel told Farah to test her? Had she passed? Was she being paranoid? Had she seriously made a date with a fucking Russian mobster? Had their kiss been as spectacular as she’d thought? What would he be like in bed? Could she handle more of what he’d already given her? God, being pressed up against him had been like being attached to a live wire. Was she crazy to want more or just really, really stupid?

“Deep end? Meet Dale,” she murmured, hearing voices as she neared her destination. She slowed then stopped altogether to compose herself with a calming breath.

She should have slapped the man’s arrogant face when he’d told her he wanted to impregnate her.

Shh. Brain. Not now.

She had to have misunderstood. Somehow, her receptors had screwed up what she’d heard with what had actually been said. Because, come on. Who the fuck would say such a filthy, strangely erotic, dream-come-true thing to a complete stranger in front of his freaking brother?

Seriously. Not now.

Drawing her lips up into a smile that was welcoming but not personally welcoming, she entered the room that already smelled sweetly of cigars and swiftly counted ten men. Going to the nearest group, she quietly waited for a break in the conversation before imagining them wearing rubber horse heads and asking if anyone could use a refreshment.

As she took the order to the bar and prepared what were basic straight shots on ice, she focused on the task and kept her eyes, and thoughts, as far away from Lukas Zavrazin, and his sperm, as she could.

***

Lukas never thought he’d live to see the day when a woman could distract him from business with so little effort. Especially business that was essentially very personal. Maksim had confirmed there had been three gunmen last night but was otherwise keeping quiet about any other details he might have learned.

As Lukas continued to listen with only half an ear to an associate from Detroit bitch about being summoned to Houston, he watched the efficiency and professionalism his future wife displayed as she dealt with the others who’d also arrived and didn’t seem bothered by the last-minute trip. Even those who’d traveled from Montreal, Toronto, and L.A. appeared at ease and ready to sit down.

Lukas and Vasily had extended the invite to only the most powerful Bratvas, knowing the higher-ups kept abreast of what the lesser organizations were involved in. Namely, a foolish but nervy attempt to take the life of the Pakhan who dominated Houston’s underworld with the Tarasovs and—the most lethal of them all—the Fanes, who would not be represented tonight.

He took his phone out when it buzzed, and read the text without considering how rude the gesture was in the middle of Nero’s rant that had now veered over into the shitty service he’d received from the bitchy flight staff on his father’s jet. Self-entitled prick never failed to annoy.

She made a joke when I mentioned you. Which means I still don’t know if you guys are bullshitting. Did you kiss her? And if so, did you like it?

He didn’t reply to his sister-in-law but tucked the device away and hid his satisfaction.

Dale wasn’t a gossip.

Dale. The chubby comedian.