ahead as if she was talking to the landscape. “Fortunately, I have a very strong sex drive and I’m familiar with the club and what goes on there. Had you just been honest in the first place and told me that was the kind of open relationship we were going to have, I would have understood the rules.”
In spite of his determination to work things out, that one little line and the casual way she said it sent crimson fire rushing through his veins. Shturm roared a challenge and leapt at him, clawing and raking wildly.
“What exactly does that mean, Flambé?” He kept his voice low, strictly velvet, back to the dominant in him.
She shrugged again and took a drink of water. “Don’t you have to go to work? Naturally, I prefer to work from home. We both know this house is extremely safe. You went out of your way to make certain no one could break into it and there’s a tunnel between the two properties no one knows about. I don’t want to set foot in your cousin’s home. It would be utterly humiliating to me.”
He was fucked any way he responded to that. If he forced her, he was the worst partner on the face of the earth, but if he didn’t, he would be seriously worried and divided constantly over her protection. And then there was the question of what the hell her statement about the club meant. They had a lot to clear up.
“Flambé, what exactly did you mean about you and the club? I absolutely require an answer.”
“I meant, as far as I’m concerned, since I’m considered a sex object anyway and you feel you can go to the club and do whatever you want, there’s no reason I shouldn’t go. It certainly shouldn’t bother you.”
Shturm rose so fast that for a moment Sevastyan actually had to struggle with him for supremacy. What do you think you’re doing? If you hurt her, you hurt Flamme. Back off. Sevastyan stayed very still, breathing down the ever-present rage, reminding himself that Flambé was very hurt. Mitya had dismissed her in a cutting way and Sevastyan had let it stand in front of everyone, leading her to believe that the original things said about her were what they all thought of her—were what he thought of her.
She had smelled the club on him when he’d come home to her and she hadn’t said a word, waiting for him to give her an explanation. When he hadn’t, she’d pulled back. It was no wonder she had suppressed Flamme. The two had to be confused. Hurt and confused. He couldn’t compound errors by scaring them both with his temper and Shturm’s.
“There is a complete misunderstanding, Flambé, but I can see how that would happen. I’m going to start with the club. I did go there and I didn’t want you to know.”
She started to stir, moving as if she might stop him from speaking. He could feel her hurt, although she tried hard to keep it from him, but he was very tuned to her. He was a rigger and he’d had her in the ropes far too many times not to read the slightest nuance. He wanted to pull her into his arms and comfort her, but he knew she wouldn’t allow it. Mitya—and he—had stripped her of her pride.
That damned first conversation Miron and Rodion had overheard and repeated where she could hear it, making her feel as if she were nothing but an object for him to have readily available for him to have sex with, that had started it. That was on him, not Mitya. His cousin couldn’t be blamed for that. Mitya treating her as if she wasn’t important, not his fiancée, not his woman or Shturm’s mate. Even that was on him because he never took the time to fully explain to his cousin what was going on between Flambé and him. He should have. He didn’t want anyone to know he couldn’t handle his relationship—or his fear that he might somehow lose her.
“I would like you to hear me out. Please let Flamme close to the surface so there is no mistaking whether or not I speak the truth. I needed an alibi that night. I planned on killing Matherson and I didn’t want you to know. The cops can track cars through traffic cameras and it just so happened that the place he was renting was a short distance from the