Page 82 of Wrapped in Perfection

Full access? Already?

My insides go giddy. "Yes."

"Great. It should only take a few minutes for them to get your fingerprints."

"All right."

"They will give you the elevator code, too. Make yourself at home. I'll see you soon, kotik."

"Bye." I hand the phone back to Viktor. He grunts, shuts my door, and the car lowers with the weight of him settling in the front seat.

We aren't far from Dmitri's. When we get there, it only takes security a few minutes to give me clearance, and I punch in the code for the elevator.

It's already dark, and the lights of the city twinkle from every room. I turn on the surround sound and the Russian music Dmitri often plays comes on. I still don't know what they are saying, but the woman's voice oozes sex. I find a bottle of red wine, the opener, and two glasses, and put them on the table next to the leather couch. There are candles in the main room and a fireplace. I light them and keep the dimmers on around the ceiling.

I go into the bedroom and take a quick shower. I redo my makeup, choosing colors I normally wouldn't because of my new hair color. I stare at my reflection, trying to get used to it.

I feel like a different person.

Please don't hate it.

I shouldn't put so much stock into what a man thinks about my hair, but I love the fact Dmitri thinks I'm beautiful. As much as I wish I didn't care, I do.

I remove all the tags off the deep-berry lingerie, put it on, then go out to the living room.

He should be home any minute.

The last time I attempted to wear lingerie, Mitch left me in the hotel room all by myself until I caught him with that waitress on his lap.

Dmitri isn't Mitch.

I open the bottle of wine, pour two glasses, then lay on the leather couch in a sexy pose with the drink in my hand.

I shouldn't be nervous, but I am. The hotel room scene with me waiting for hours won't leave my head.

The elevator dings, and my stomach flutters intensify. When it opens, Dmitri's Russian words fly into my ears before I see him.

He comes around the corner, stops mid-sentence, and heat flares in his eyes. Every part of my body, he checks out, as if I'm a rare piece of artwork, lingering on my breasts, sex, and thighs.

He says something quickly in Russian, tosses his phone on the chair, drops the food bags, and leans over me. "Kotik, you changed your hair."

I nod.

"You're one of the rare women who can wear any color and look sexy as hell."

"You like it?" I whisper in relief.

He brushes his lips to mine. "You look amazing." He traces his finger over my nipple. "And you got this for me?"

"Mm-hmm."

His eyes fill with more fire. His lips twitch. "Then let me take full advantage of my gift."

16

Dmitri

If heaven were servedon a silver platter, it would be right now, here in this moment.

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