Page 66 of Unrelenting
Preoccupied with thoughts of my brother and Lucia, I’m in no mood to deal with Olivia’s bitchiness. I’m about to tell her to go fuck herself when Piotr steps up beside her and slides his arm around her waist.
His gesture is both possessive and protective, but he’s got nothing to fear from any of the men in this room.
Daniil only has eyes for his wife. Damiano and I could never look at Olivia as anything but our mildly irritating cousin and Sev is consumed with thoughts of some unattainable Bratva princess. Joe doesn’t appear to have the slightest interest in Olivia and the only other man in the room is Niko Morozov, who’s married to Mila Lenkova. Considering his wife is dry-humping him in the corner, I doubt he’s given Olivia a second glance.
“Ladies and gentlemen, dinner is served.” I turn toward the voice and find Sev’s butler, Jacques, standing in the doorway. He’s a pompous ass. “Please make your way to the dining room and take your allocated seats.”
“Allocated seats?” I mutter under my breath. I doubt that’s Sev’s doing. He lets Jacques guide him when it comes to etiquette and the man has a seriously sharp stick up his ass.
As we all head along the corridor, Piotr drags Olivia in the opposite direction. I suspect he has something to say about her choice of attire.
I follow the others into the dining room where the table has been laid out as if a royal banquet is about to take place. There are white tapered candles in silver holders and arrangements of white and pink roses set on top of a silk table runner. Expensivesilverware has been laid out with damask napkins for each guest. Gilt-edged menus with our names written in a delicate script at the top mark each place. It’s over the top.
Even if we are all billionaires, the people in this room are also friends. We don’t require this level of formality.
I find my place and take a seat. Picking up the menu, I suppress a groan. Coquille Saint Jacques is the appetizer. Then there’s Confit de Canard for the entrée. I’m not a huge fan of duck. The dessert is crème brûlée with a fig compote. That, I have to admit, does sound good.
Each course is paired with a different wine. I’d hoped the food would be more to my taste. Sev is a hunk of steak and a glass of Scotch kind of guy. He’s not into this pretentious shit, and neither am I.
“This is fancy,” Niamh says as Damiano plays the gentleman and pulls out the seat next to me so she can sit.
My brother takes the chair on her other side.
“It’s ridiculous,” I mutter.
Niamh picks up her napkin and drapes it over her lap. “So, you’re off the market, then?”
“What makes you say that?”
“Well, for a start, you haven’t been eyeing Mila and me like you’re hoping for an orgy.”
I don’t deny there was a time when I would have jumped at the chance to fuck both of these beautiful, dangerous women at the same time.
“Well, she’s married now, and Niko would strangle me with my own intestines if he thought I was imagining his wife in bed.”
“Yes, he would, but I’m still single.”
“Technically, but you have unresolved issues with Tony Morganti, and I’m not getting in the middle of that shit.”
She had a brief relationship with Tony, a distant cousin of my friend Marco, that ended in tears a few months ago.
Niamh scowls. “There’s nothing between me and that asshole anymore.”
“Asshole, huh? What did he do? Make you throw out your collection of dicks?”
“Collection of dicks?” Niamh raises an eyebrow. “You must be thinking of Mila.”
I shake my head. Although there’s a rumor Mila Lenkova cuts the dicks off her enemies and keeps them as trophies, I think if anyone was to do something so freaky, it would be Niamh.
Nobody can be as nice as she appears to be, certainly not in this world. She has to be hiding something dark and depraved beneath her girl next door smile.
“Does she have a collection of dicks?” I ask.
“Nope.”
“So what do you ladies do with them when you’ve cut them off?”
“Nothing, personally, but I assume someone incinerates them for us.” She smiles sweetly at Jacques as he places a plate with a perfectly seared scallop presented in its shell in front of her. He doesn’t return the smile.
