kinds of trails she could leave on a man’s body with lipstick like that, if properly motivated.
I could give you so much motivation, baby.
The backwards black messenger hat she wore somehow added a level of cuteness to all that sexy. Her light blond hair was straight and shiny and barely skimmed her collarbone. Her silver hoop earrings peeked through the strands, a look I found damnably hot for some reason. The deep sapphire of her eyes was the kind of color a man could lose himself in if he didn’t keep his wits about him.
Not a problem for me.
Only pussy-whipped douchebags like my two brothers forgot themselves to the point that they got lost in a woman’s eyes.
On a withering sigh, I strode across the foyer and met her on the stairs.
“I’ve got it,” she snapped when I reached for one of the suitcases handles.
I took it back. She was a brat.
She had the most curious accent, too. Clearly some Russian in there, but it was mixed with what sounded like British. Had she studied in the U.K.? I hadn’t gotten that far in my research yet, so I’d have to wait for Ace to get back to me with the details of her education. Whatever you called it, I itched to hear her whisper Russian words in a British accent right before she took my cock between her plump red lips.
Whoa, whoa, fucking whoa. Pump the brakes, Rossetti.
“Yes, I can see that,” I responded snidely. “And as entertaining as this show is, we really need to speed things along. I’d prefer to not be late for my next appointment.”
“Oh, I apologize,” she said haughtily. “We’ve only just been forced into matrimony with each other. Forgive me if punctuality isn’t high on my priority list right now—”
“Allow me.”
Unable to listen to anymore of her sniping with my worsening headache, I snatched two of the suitcases out of her hands, threw them over my shoulders, and took off down the stairs.
“Well, aren’t you the gentleman,” she muttered under her breath, though clearly not making an attempt to be quiet.
“Don’t get the wrong idea, legs,” I shot back over my shoulder. “I just don’t have five years to wait for you to make it out to the car all on your own.”
“Yebat' tebya.”
My steps faltered. She whispered those words like she was putting a curse on me. Not for the first time, I realized I really should have boned up on my Russian before this little trip. If for no other reason than to keep up with the names my wife spat at me.
“Alexia.”
We both spun around at the deep, booming voice.
Sergei’s righthand man and head of security, Dimitri Novikoff, approached us. Dressed in the standard black cargo pants, black thermal shirt, and black combat boots that all the guards wore, he walked into the room like he thought he fucking owned it. With black hair cut brutally short and a deep scar bisecting one cheek, he reminded me of a comic book villain.
The Russian G.I. Joe flashed me a murderous glare before focusing all of his attention on Lexi, his expression noticeably softening.
I hated the way he looked at her.
It made absolutely no sense that I even cared. She wasn’t really my woman. This farce of a marriage was a marriage in name only.
I still didn’t like the son of a bitch.
As they stood close and began murmuring in low Russian to each other, I sensed an obvious level of affection there. I couldn’t quite glean if there was intimacy behind it or just familiarity. Had they slept together? Were they still sleeping together? Based on my information, Dimitri had been a part of Sergei’s organization since he was a teen. Which meant he and Lexi had known one another for years. It would come as no surprise if they’d gotten more than friendly at some point.
Dimitri kept shooting me glares over her shoulder as they spoke in hushed, yet heated, tones. She appeared to be trying to console him, maybe reassure him. Aside from meeting his glares head-on to let him know he wasn’t dealing with a man who would easily back down when threatened, I tried not to pay them much attention. She’d already said goodbye to her father before he’d left for his business meeting. I’d give her two more minutes to say her goodbyes to this Russian schmuck.
Standing idly by proved difficult, though, when he cupped her cheek in his hand, thumb stroking her soft skin.