a friend. The word sounded a little melodramatic and sour, but it was the closest thing I had to describe the relationship.
When he pulled his gaze away and relented, a flare of resentment for Mila surged. She was fucking not only with my head but my men’s, so I kept up the façade she might not see tomorrow just to watch her reaction.
“Will you do the honors, kotyonok?”
“Wait,” Alexander growled. “We deserve the punishment, not her.”
“Shut up,” his friend hissed and, if I wasn’t mistaken, he kicked Alexander under the table.
Mila interrupted their quarrel. She grabbed the revolver and slipped the bullet into one of the cylinders, then stared at the gun in her hand like she was thinking about turning it on me. With a chuckle, I took it from her before she could follow through with that.
When I pointed the revolver at Alexander, two surprising things happened. Alexei’s nephew looked relieved, and Mila—well, she finally acted like she gave a shit about our little game.
“No!” She struggled to escape my lap, but I held her still, if only to keep her from flashing everyone in the room something that belonged to me. “I thought . . .”
I raised a brow. “You thought what?” She wouldn’t beg for her own life, but she would for two men she didn’t know. The stupid, selfless act was the most irritating thing I’d ever experienced.
“I thought you—”
“Hvatit.” Enough. I was unable to listen to another word from her mouth right now. Gripping her chin, I pulled her eyes to mine. “You and I, kotyonok . . .” I stroked a thumb across her cheek, my voice softening. “We’re far from finished.”
She didn’t look convinced, so I pulled her face closer and sealed the promise with a short kiss. She was as tense as a statue, but her lips were soft, pliable, warm, and somehow, she still tasted like strawberries.
The fleeting press of her mouth on mine swelled the ache in my cock to a raw throb, and an ounce of irony arose. I needed to get laid if a quick kiss got a stronger reaction from me than a woman’s tongue on my cock.
I pulled the trigger.
Click.
Before Mila could finish a relieved breath, she jumped when I fired at the next man. The bang ricocheted off the walls. Smoke rose from the barrel, and his lifeless body slumped to the table. Mila trembled against me, a hand over her mouth.
“Guess we get that funeral after all,” I said drily.
Blood spread across the table, and my gaze narrowed as it reached my plate of dessert.
“I’m going to . . .” Mila trailed off, her head lolled, and then she went limp in my arms, a comatose tangle of blonde hair and legs.
“What the fuck’s wrong with her?” Alexander demanded. His wary gaze took Mila in, and he didn’t even glance at the dead man beside him.
After adjusting Mila’s weight so her head rested on my shoulder, I picked up my cigar and puffed on it while viewing her unconscious form with feigned narrow-eyed concern. “Not sure. Do you think she needs to eat?” I blew out a breath of smoke and met Alexander’s gaze, mine sparking. “I thought Mikhailov women only needed to be fucked to survive.” For some reason, I didn’t want to tell him about her phobia. Those little details were mine.
“You son of a bitch,” he seethed. “She’s not her mother—”
“Save it,” I said, bored. “I’ve heard it before.”
“Let her go. You can take me instead.”
“Tempting, but you’re not my type.” I sent a look to Viktor to get him out of here. “Strip him,” I ordered. “He can crawl back to Alexei like a wounded dog.” Meeting Alexander’s eyes as Viktor hauled him to his feet, I said, “Make sure you tell Alexei how well his daughter fares.”
He glared. “Fuck you.”
Viktor punched him in the stomach before slamming his pretty face into the table. I sighed when blood splattered onto my piece of cake.
“Watch out for the wolves,” I added while he was being dragged out. “Although, I hope they have better taste.”
“Go to hell, D’yavol—”
Viktor yanked him out the door.
Sitting back in my chair, I held an annoying look with Albert before he got to his feet and left the room. I was blowing out a smoke ring, feeling oddly content, when Mila roused. I bit my cigar between my teeth and pulled the bloody cake to her.
“Medovik, kotyonok?”
Her expression paled, and as a soft chuckle left me,