Page 113 of Ripped Veil (Ripped Bratva)

“Good evening, madam,” the maître d’ says, bowing low. “We are delighted to host you this evening.”

“Oh, uh, thanks…”

“I am obligated to inform you, however, that we do have a dress code.”

My cheeks blaze with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t prepared. I didn’t know I was coming here tonight. I’ll just go—”

“I assume you bought clothes while you were out today?” comes a familiar voice from behind me.

I whirl around.

Phoenix is standing in the high archway that leads to the main restaurant. He’s wearing black dress pants and a crisp white shirt with an open collar.

He looks… incredible.

“Did you?” he asks again.

“Uh, yes…”

“Then I suggest you pick something and change into an appropriate dress,” he says. It’s not really a suggestion. “There are rooms you can use in the back. William?”

“I will assist her, sir,” the maître d’ says with another low bow.

Phoenix is about to turn away when I call out to him. “Wait! I don’t understand. What is this?”

He raises his eyebrows as though the answer is painfully obvious. “This?” he repeats. “This is exactly what it looks like, Elyssa. We’re having dinner.”

24

Phoenix

Even in jeans and a fucking t-shirt, she looks beautiful.

A little annoyed. Very tired.

But beautiful, nonetheless.

Which is probably going to make this night a lot harder. It doesn’t matter to me, though. I’m determined to figure her out either way.

There’s something she’s not telling me. Maybe lots of things. And I need to know what. Especially with the child hanging in the balance.

I take a seat at the table they’ve arranged especially for us. The restaurant is empty, as per my instructions, and we’re seated at the glass windows overlooking the koi pond. A few white swans swim languidly on the dark, glistening water.

I’ve kept my distance from the boy all this time. He looks like me. Too much like me.

And far too much like Yuri.

The last thing I need is to grow attached. Especially if it turns out that Elyssa is just a beautiful and convincing con artist. It ended in disaster last time, and I swore an oath to myself: never again.

No attachments. No love. No feeling.

Just cold and ruthless vengeance. That’s all I live for. That’s all I’ll ever live for.

She emerges ten minutes later from a door to the side. I try and control my expression, but I feel my pulse rise the moment I lay eyes on her.

She’s… fucking gorgeous.

The dress she’s wearing is a simple silver slip with thin spaghetti straps. The neckline descends in a smooth V that shows off a hint of cleavage. The hemline is modest, falling to mid-calf.

---