Page 75 of Tarnished Tyrant (Zhukova Bratva 1)

Nikolai laughs. “Spoken like a person who grew up poor. Don’t take offense—I only know because I grew up poor, too.”

It’s hard to imagine Nikolai ever not being in control. It’s difficult to imagine there being a time when he couldn’t have whoever or whatever he wanted.

“What were your parents like?”

“When is the last time you had sex?” he asks instead of answering.

My cheeks go scarlet. “I asked my question first.”

He shrugs. “I don’t care.”

I’m more than aware there is no point arguing with him. Plus, this answer is easy. “On the plane here.”

“Before me,” he amends.

“I’m not telling.”

“Why not?” he asks. “Ty slishkom zastenchiv?”

“I’m not—” I start to say, responding to his question before I realize he said it in Russian.

Are you too shy?

“—telling you about my sex life.”

I shove the last dumpling in my mouth to avoid saying anything else stupid.

Nikolai’s gaze on me sharpens. I feel his eyes scraping over my skin like he’s peeling me open layer by layer.

Luckily, the waitress comes with the next course just then, saving me from the inquisition.

For now.

As the dinner continues, the conversation ebbs and flows. There are stretches of quiet as I dive into the pastry-wrapped salmon Nikolai ordered, trying to hide exactly how much I’m enjoying it. The man’s ego is big enough as it is. We talk easily about the decor and the other patrons.

But the undercurrent of tension remains.

“The couple in the corner comes here twice a week,” Nikolai says, pointing to an elderly couple across from us. They’re leaned in close together, sharing bites of food and laughing. “They escaped the Eastern Bloc together and came to America. They’ve been married for fifty years.”

“Soulmates,” I say, giving him a smug look.

He shakes his head. “Two people who have similar experiences that helped them bond and have stayed together because it makes life easier than if they were separated. It’s a business deal, nothing more.”

I look over at the couple. The way their eyes warm when they connect, the way the man has his hand on the woman’s knee under the table.

“No, it’s love. Destiny. I can tell.”

“What would you know about any of that?” he asks. “You haven’t had sex in years.”

“Just because I haven’t been sleeping around doesn’t mean—” My eyes widen. “You tricked me!”

Nikolai takes a bite of his stew and shrugs. “It was so easy it almost wasn’t fun.”

My face is beet red, I’m sure. I stare down at my plate, shoving my food around with my fork. “I’m sure that’s what you said about me after I gave it up in the bathroom.”

“That was easy,” he agrees. “But it was plenty fun.”

I glance up, and he’s smiling at me. It’s almost warm enough to be genuine, and for the briefest of seconds, I let myself imagine what it might be like to be with Nikolai. To be the woman he fawned over and took care of. To see that smile every day.

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