Page 47 of Heritage of Fire

A woman’s ears have never been something I’ve given consideration. Not once. But Luna’s are delicate. Tan and smooth, and begging for me to nip at them. The overwhelming desire to trail my mouth behind them and down the nape of herneck hits me like a punch to the gut. I stiffen and straighten before I do something stupid.

As if reading my change in demeanor, she says, “I’ll see you in a bit,” and darts down the hallway.

Kill me.

It doesn’t get any better. Igor and I are sharing a drink in the kitchen when the sound of heels echoes down the hall. It’s not a sound I associate with Luna, so I don’t pay it much attention, but then the door opens and—crap.

A classic black cocktail dress hugs her body, the material accentuates her curves. The V neckline draws my gaze and heat grows on the back of my neck. My focus trails and traces over her bare legs, ending at a pair of red heels.

My fist tightens around my drink. I raise it to my lips and throw it back before slamming the glass back on the counter.

“Where is your coat?” I growl.

“It’s in the foyer. I’ll grab it before we go. I wanted to grab a water.”

She clicks over to the fridge, giving me an unobstructed view of the back of her dress. Silk dips down to the middle of her back. I spot a small zipper and thoughts of undoing it flutter through my mind. Shutting my eyes, I take a beat, then open them to see Igor smirking at me.

Water bottle in hand, Luna shuts the fridge. I watch as she opens it and wraps those lush red lips around the top. Desire pulses through me with every small gulp. I’m suddenly very aware of my tighter suit pants, the navy fabric strangling me.

“Ready?” Luka pops his head into the kitchen. “We’re taking three SUVs. We’ll all be in the middle, security in the outer two.”

Igor pushes his stool back and heads out the door. Luna sets her water down and offers me an innocent smile before following him.

I don’t move.

“Nikolai,” Luka barks. “What are you doing?”

My lips fold into a thin line. “Nothing.”

I adjust myself before standing. Luka’s eyes meet mine and a wide grin spreads over his face. As he turns to leave, he howls in laughter.

I’m in deep shit.

The drive to the restaurant is a good distraction. I ride up front with Igor, keeping an eye out for fringe groups trying to play Grand Turismo.

We’re meeting with the previous deputy prime minister and his wife, along with the current minister of foreign affairs and his mistress—the wife couldn’t make it. Since security will be present tonight, it makes bringing Luna bearable. I’d hate to return home to tell Salvatore I took his daughter to Russia and lost her.

The restaurant is busier than I’d like. We have reserved seating—a plush leather booth rounded into a half circle. It’s the perfect vantage point, allowing Igor and I to keep an eye out if someone gets past our security deposited around the bar.

A waitress comes over and places a tray of caviar, bilinis, and smoked salmon in front of us before taking our order for the first round of drinks.

“And for you, handsome?” She winks at me, and I offer her a wide grin.

The other women at the table glance at Luna sitting next to me. And, as if aware of their stares, her mouth curls into a frown. I give the waitress my order and she points to Luna. “And for your friend?” I open my mouth, but then slam it shut when Luna doesn’t give me a chance to reply.

“I’ll have a glass of champagne, please,” Luna says, staring at the waitress with what looks like equal parts disdain and mortification. She shifts away from me.

When the drinks arrive, Luna takes a long sip of hers, emptying half the flute. Unease stabs me—I don’t think I’ve seen her drink before. Granted, she isn’t twenty-one, but here that doesn’t matter.

I immerse myself in conversation with Luka and our friends, catching up on recent politics and sharing our success in New York. Luna appears to be conversing with the other women and enjoying herself.

A flush of red climbs up her neck as the deputy prime minister’s wife asks her a question. The flush breaks out over her cheeks, and she reaches for her glass again. Her gaze plummets to her lap, hands wringing together, and I know something’s wrong. I lean into her, but she keeps her focus pinned on her legs.

“Are you all right?”

“Fine.” She doesn’t turn to me, and I want to grab her face.Look at me.

Polina, the minister of foreign affiars’s mistress, stands and announces she’s headed to the bar to get another drink. She beckons Luna and the deputy prime minister’s wife to come with her, and when they stand, she pulls them both by their arms to the bar seating. I nod toward security, making sure they watch that area as well, and I dive back into conversation.

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