Page 49 of Her Vicious Angel

“I reallywonderhow you got a reputation as a brute,” I hissed after him, rubbing my jaw.

“You have no idea, brat,” he countered. “Now go get dressed like I told you.”

I went.

* * *

I puton a white spaghetti strap dress and came back into the dining room. My hands were sweating.

Andrei was there, and he took my arm and led me into a big meeting room with huge open windows looking out over the Neva River. I could see over the Golden Triangle area of downtown, one of the most luxurious and elite areas in the entire country.

“The Faberge Museum!” I cried.

I had always been fascinated by the delicate, impossibly detailed jeweled eggs, and the Faberge Museum was one of the places I had dreamed about visiting when I moved to Russia. Each Imperial egg was worth millions of dollars, and I wanted to see them on display.

“Maybe if you’re a good girl,” Andrei said, pointing at a smaller table that had been placed exactly at the foot of the big conference table. “Now get up there.”

I climbed up apprehensively on the table.

“Lie on your back,” he said.

I lay on my back, the table cold against my skin. I shivered.

“Good girl,” he approved. “Now follow my instructions exactly when I give them.”

He gave my pussy a quick, sharp slap, and went to sit at the table across from me.

As the room filled with serious-faced, somber Russian mobsters in suits, I saw them darting curious glances my way as I lay on the table on display.

“We are going to conduct this meeting in English,” Andrei said, once everyone sat down, “out of respect for my soon-to-be wife.”

I could feel even more curious glances on me. I knew perfectly well no one in any Bratva would see Andrei as the marrying type.

“We are. . . concerned about going into partnership with you,” said a tall, aristocratic-looking man with a sculptured white moustache and neat white hair. He looked like a debonair man of the world, or the minor character in a Jeeves & Wooster book, but he was the head of the Nemov family.

“Why?” asked Andrei. He rattled off a list of the money earned from their theaters and other business concerns.

“It is your . . . leisure activities,” Aleksandr said, folding his hands together neatly on the table and looking disapproving. “We are a family who likes to be inconspicuous in our business dealings.”

“My activities have been greatly exaggerated,” said Andrei, frowning. “And that is why my wife is here. To demonstrate the control I have over my family.”

Then he flicked a finger at me. I stared at him for a second.Could he possibly mean. . .?

Then he flicked a finger at me again, and I saw his eyes darken.

And I knew exactly what he wanted.

With trembling hands I raised up my dress. From my vantage point, I could see the men’s eyes widen.

Andrei flicked another finger at me, in the opposite direction.

And I knew once again what those impossibly dangerous eyes were telling me to do.

I put both hands down to my hips, hooking my fingers over the waistband of my panties. Then I slid them slowly off my ass and down my legs.

My pussy was in full view for everyone in the room. I could see their eyes devouring me, hot with lust. I saw even the dignified Aleksandr Nemov lick his lips and shift in his seat. He would fuck me too if he had the chance. Dmitri was standing against the wall at the back of the room and I saw him move his hands to the big bulge in his pants.

My heart began to race as I met Andrei’s eyes. The feel of his gaze on my skin was intoxicating. My pussy began to get wet just fromhowhe looked at me, how his eyes clawed and raked across my body like his hands did.

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