Page 138 of Sins of a King
“Flynn Campbell thought of me as nothing more than a beautiful possession. As his wife, I was to sit on the sidelines, build up his fragile ego, and live in the shadows. With Igor”—I licked my lips, enjoying that Sasha’s gaze followed my movement—“with Igor, I am ready to step out of the shadows and be a queen worthy of him.”
“How should we take down Campbell?”
“I’ll discuss it with Igor and no one else. Teach me to speak Russian,” I commanded. Though I’d memorized a few words, it wasn’t enough.
“I can’t without his permission,” he said.
I raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Ah, just another foot soldier, I see. Fine, then teach me some terms of endearment.”
“You want to learn terms of endearment?”
Leaning closer, I lowered my voice so that I could speak in a sensual rasp. “When he fucks me and my nails dig into his back, I want to whisper them in his ear.”
Sasha’s eyes narrowed with lust and spots of color appeared on his high cheekbones.
Check mate.
I dined with my two keepers, purposefully dressing for the occasion. There were more than enough gowns in my armoire—Dolinsky had seen to that. I wore an off-the-shoulder red frock that showed an expanse of creamy flesh and just the hint of cleavage. Sasha’s face was habitually pink, but Vlad—oh, Vlad. I enjoyed toying with him.
When he thought I wasn’t paying attention, his gaze roved over me hungrily, like a man who hadn’t eaten for days. He barely touched his food. I made sure to draw attention to my mouth as I ate, closing my eyes like a woman in the throes of lust, drawing my tongue across my lips, which were painted with bright red lipstick.
Halfway through the meal, Vlad stood up, and with a mumbled excuse, left the table. Turning my attention to Sasha, I teased and joked with him but never flirted. I had a plan, and Vlad was the one in my clutches.
I went to sleep that night with a smile on my face and my door locked.
The next morning, I strolled downstairs, done up for the day. Tight skinny leg jeans, supple black leather boots and a V-neck gray T-shirt, sans bra. I greeted my wardens and sat down to breakfast, throwing all of my attention at Sasha and ignoring Vlad. Instead of asking Vlad to pass the jam, I made sure to reach for it, giving him a nice shot of what I wasn’t wearing underneath my shirt.
I swore I could hear his jaw clench.
“I’m tired of being cooped up in the house,” I pouted in Sasha’s direction. “There’s only so many times I can beat you at backgammon.”
“I let you win,” Sasha complained.
Letting out a throaty chuckle, I looked at Vlad. “Is he letting me win, Vlad?”
“How should I know?” he clipped.
“You’re grumpy. Did you sleep well?” I let my eyes travel down the length of his body, watching his jaw tighten even more. “I was out cold. My bed is so comfortable—and huge.”
Galina came into the dining room and said something in Russian. Sasha stood up and then helped me with my chair. “Something came for you.”
“Me? Where is it?”
“Front room,” Sasha said.
I didn’t wait for him as I excitedly traipsed to the front room and then squealed in delight when I saw the old fashioned wooden red sled. Plucking off the small envelope that was taped to the sled, I ripped it open and read,The first of many gifts.
I looked at Vlad. “The note says you have to pull me.”
“It does not say that,” Vlad insisted, reaching for the note.
I reared back so he couldn’t snatch the paper from my hands and deliberately shoved it into my back pocket. “Does too.”
“Vlad doesn’t have a sense of humor. I’m going to go change for outside,” Sasha said and left.
My eyes trailed down Vlad’s body, a smirk lighting my mouth. I licked my lips. “You don’t need a sense of humor.”
“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice low and gruff. His hands were clenched into fists, resting by his sides.
