Page 34 of Sold to the Russian
Kostya leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Do you by any chance have a sister? I just wanna be friends with her, that’s all.”
Irina shot her older brother an unimpressed look. “The one time you’re not placed on bodyguard duty is the time you decide to form an incestuous relationship with our future sister-in-law.”
If only you knew, Maeve thought sarcastically, her thumb absently rubbing circles around the area where Fedya’s ring was prior to this event.
Viktor and Fedya were still bickering about God knows what—with Viktor doing most of the talking and Fedya alternating between entertaining his brother and looking out for her—as Kostya defended himself from Irina’s allegations. As the seconds ticked by, Maeve felt less like an alien among them.Each time Irina spoke, she was reminded that her father and uncle had a hand in her kidnapping, and her stomach churned unpleasantly. Each time the siblings joked around her, she would remember her father’s task, and something a bit too akin to guilt would bubble in her blood.
Attachment was the last thing she needed to form with these people. It was bad enough already that she was aggressively fighting the attraction she felt for Fedya himself. Yet, she couldn’t deny the fact that standing among them and laughing at their jokes was a strikingly sharp contrast to the rumors she’d heard about the family. She had no doubt that they would be ruthless when the time came, but she’d heard so much about how the Nikolais had no emotions that she believed them.
And this—this proved everything she knew to be a lie. If anything, their bond and carefree attitude reminded her of how much she’d missed out on as a kid. How lonely she was growing up alone. How things would probably be different if she’d had a sibling or two herself.
“You work in international law?” Viktor asked, a smile playing on his lips while his hands stayed in his pockets. After what Fedya had said about how close they were, Maeve was especially cautious of him. Even though he seemed perfectly chill, perfectly playful.
“She does,” Fedya answered smoothly. “Travelled most of Europe before we matched online.”
“Online dating,” Viktor laughed, staring at Maeve like he could see something she couldn’t. “I know I advised you to do it, but it just doesn’t sound like something you’d actually do.”
“Well, he did,” Maeve responded, her voice firm. “And I’m glad he did. Funny how dating apps could bring you straight to your soulmate.”
She could feel Fedya’s stare burning into her skin, and she hated that she loved the burn.
Viktor laughed shrewdly. “Funny indeed.” Then he turned to the rest of his siblings and said, “Now I want to meet my soulmate too.”
Questions rolled in after that, most of which Fedya handled as perfectly as possible. He was such a smooth, calculated liar, and Maeve couldn’t understand why she was attracted to that. It didn’t even sound right.
Before she knew it, they were on the dancefloor, moving in sync to the slow, soft song. A sprinkle of romance. But they danced like it was more real than fake.
“Someone’s watching us,” Maeve said, feeling a new set of eyes digging into her back. People had been watching them since they arrived, but this was different. This was too prominent, too heavy, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to turn back to see who it was.
“It’s my cousin,” Fedya said dryly. “The Pakhan.”
Maeve tried not to let his words affect her. The Pakhan was the oldest of the actual Nikolai brothers. Fedya and his siblings were simply his cousins. “Mikhail Nikolai.”
“Yes,” he responded, spinning her around for a moment before bringing her back to his chest. “He’s intimidating, but you’ll get used to it.”
Maeve swallowed her nerves down her throat and forced herself to think of something else.
“You could have at least told me about my job,” she said, forcing a grin just in case anyone else was watching. Her arms were around his neck, and his were around her waist, moving more easily and confidently than she was.
“Doesn’t matter,” he said, watching her with his usual blue gaze. She could smell the wine on his breath, feel the heat of his fingers pressing into her back, and feel him loom over her even more intimately. The fire she refused to acknowledge for him had surpassed its steady growth. It was blooming, ravaging her insides, melting her thoughts, her common sense.
“They believed it.”
“Except Viktor,” she said, looking everywhere but at his lips. They were full and baby pink, the bottom slightly fuller than the top. “He doesn’t buy it.”
“Of course, he doesn’t,” he said, lifting a brow, pressing her closer. Her nipples were tight peaks on her chest, grazing against his chest with every sway and dip on the dance floor. Every brush of his chest against them made her shiver, made her stomach dip in desire, her breasts ache for more. “Do you see how stiff you are?” he said against her ear. “Relax,zhena.”
They weren’t at home, and yet he was calling her his wife.
“Someone could hear,” she hissed, pulling back a bit, but he only tugged her forward.
“It could be my nickname for you,” he said. Amusement sparked in his eyes. “That shouldn’t be weird.”
“Well, it is weird, so don’t.”
“You like it.”
Maeve gritted her teeth. “Excuse me?”
