Power Play - Lauren Landish Page 0,37

a polite decline. Just let me know when and where Nikolai plans his dinner, and I’ll meet you there.”

My returning chuckle had been dark, none of the airy casualness she had. “Honey, that’s not how this works. You’re going to dinner with two of the most dangerous men you’ve ever met. You think Nikolai is going to be fooled again by some faux kinky bullshit? No, don’t flatter yourself. Tonight is a business strategy session so we’re both prepped for a dinner and show with Nikolai. And if you’re good tonight, I’ll feed you. If not, well I guess we’ll have to see.” I’d let the threat hang, hoping she’d fill in some ugly conclusion herself that would push her over the line to giving in.

I’d heard her swallow thickly, felt her resistance even through the phone, but she’d yielded reluctantly. “Fine. What time?”

But now eight o’clock has come and gone, and Kitty is still not here thirty minutes after my requested arrival time. My pacing has given way to sulking as I sit in the corner of the leather couch in my front room, nursing a tumbler of bourbon.

I take another sip, letting the vanilla and spicy notes of the Blanton’s Original wash through me, easing the knot of fury tightening in my gut.

Where the fuck is she? I am not a man accustomed to waiting for others, and in fact, I do my damnedest to make sure they don’t wait on me either. Timeliness is paramount, something I learned from watching my father’s complete disregard for others’ schedules. He always ran on his own timeline, regularly forgetting meetings or skipping appointments if he became lost in his adventures.

So Kitty’s tardiness, and by now absence, triggers those same buttons of my youth, waiting at the dinner table for a father who never showed and belittled his son’s feelings of disregard when he did manage to make a school function.

It was a lesson the military strengthened. As they say in the Army, ‘five minutes early is just on time. On time is five minutes late.’

I can hear my CO ranting about timeliness as well and how the lack of it is disrespectful to your senior ranking officers. I may not be a military man any longer, but the disrespect is the same.

I won’t allow it. Not when the risk is so great to us both.

I pick up my phone to call her, my anger already poised to boil over, ready to unleash on her at her disobedience, when the doorbell rings.

I get up, nearly slamming my tumbler onto the wooden coffee table before me, and stride to the front entry hall. Grant walks in from the kitchen, a man on a mission, as always, but I intercept him.

“I’ve got this one, Grant,” I say, my voice clipped.

He dips his chin in deference, slowing down. “Of course, sir.”

He doesn’t disappear, instead standing back with his hands behind his back, ready to step in if he can be of service.

I swing the door open, the words already rolling from my tongue. “It’s about damn . . .” But I falter at the sight before me, and my next word is a bare whisper. “Time.”

Kitty is resplendent in a blush-colored dress that hugs her every curve. The dress is almost demure, with a high neck and long hemline, but its slim fit leaves nothing to the imagination, and I fight the urge to order her to twirl for me just so I can glimpse the fabric slipping over the apple of her ass. Her hair is down, honey-blonde curls tumbling loosely, and her eyes are smoky, dark with questions her shiny lips don’t ask.

She looked gorgeous at the party in sexy cocktail attire, but there’s something very enchanting about a formally dressed Kitty, all elegance and refinement.

I realize I’ve been staring a beat too long when she clutches her wrap to her arms. “Uhm, are you going to let me in or not?” There’s not a hint of apology at her tardiness, just saucy brattiness daring me to shut the door. But she’s got the upper hand, at least for now, since she knows I want her here for this meeting, and apparently, she’s not one to let me forget it.

“Come in.” The order is harsh and brusque, stern in response to her sass. I know I’m not de-escalating the situation, but I’m angry and I won’t hide it when it is so warranted. I watch as she enters, rewarded with the view

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