Page 10 of Big Bad Daddy

I step out from the backseat, straighten my shoulders, and nervously adjust my tie, suddenly wishing I was twenty years younger. Our difference doesn’t negate my attraction, but it complicates matters. If things were different, if I were twenty-eight instead of forty-eight, nothing would keep me from openly pursuing Sybil. I would waste no time thoroughly claiming every part of her body before the end of our first date. My endless desire would surely surpass my sanity, and she’d have no escape.

“How do I look?” Sybil holds her arms at her sides and twirls once, giving me the perfect view of her diminutive figure and mouthwatering ass.

My cock thickens against my thigh, creating a noticeable bulge that is only slightly concealed by my jacket. There’s no sense attempting to hide my arousal. She’ll know soon enough how much I want her.

“You’re stunning,” I say, gnashing my teeth to trap the growl rippling in my chest. As I stare at the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, the rest of the world falls away. Sybil is a once-in-a-lifetime catch, and she needs a man who never lets her forget it.

I can be that man.

Sybil’s cheeks are pink, and she drops her bashful gaze to the sidewalk. Her childlike innocence unintentionally stirs a dark need building inside me. It kindles my longing to praise and protect her, pleasure her body, and win her heart.

I offer Sybil my hand, and she lays her delicate fingers against my palm, her bare skin warming mine until the blood coursing through my veins feels like liquid fire. My strength vanishes in an instant. The will I’ve built over decades crashes and burns, leaving a pile of smoldering ashes in its wake.

“Is there anything I should know before we arrive?” Sybil stares out the window, seemingly fascinated by the passing cars, or perhaps trying to avoid the intensity of my gaze. She’s so lovely, I can’t make myself look away.

“You’re with me, and everyone there will know as soon as we walk in. Stick close, and you’ll be fine. I’ll take care of you.” I let my hand travel across the leather seat and place it over hers, allowing my fingertips to graze her prickled skin. “Do you trust me?”

Sybil nods, fluttering her lashes as she turns her head to look into my eyes.

“Good girl,” I whisper, the words emerging without thought.

Sybil’s lips part and a smile forms on her lips as she inhales a sharp breath. Her amber eyes twinkle like starlight, stealing the breath straight from my lungs.

“Will there be other men like you there?” Sybil murmurs, almost stuttering as she asks.

I understand her question and know why that would concern her. I’m used to being called a criminal. That’s what I am, and it’s the only life I’ve ever known. But I don’t want her to set me apart from the kind of man she’d consider suitable.

“Like me?” I tease, and watch the color leave her face.

“Oh, that’s not what I mean. I just meant that—” Sybil stammers nervously. Her shoulders tense with mortification, and she attempts to retract her question with a lie. “I was only curious about the guest list.”

“I’m teasing you. I understand what you mean. And yes, there will be other criminals at dinner. We don't typically associate with anyone else.” I tighten my grip on her hand and expect her to pull away, but she doesn’t. Instead, her hand melts into mine, and she makes room for me to move closer.

“I’m sorry. I’m out of my element and fear I’ll do something wrong that might get me killed. My friend, Tasha, grew up in Brighton Beach and put the fear of God in me earlier today. She’s worried about me.” Sybil pretends to smile, but the gesture never reaches her eyes.

I silently debate mentioning I know all about Tasha. She comes from a once-rival family, and no doubt spent most of her youth hearing the worst of me. Nastasha Pushkina is Gavril Pushkin’s first cousin and daughter to a fallenpakhan. She and her widowed mother wanted nothing to do with our world after her father’s death and moved away when she was in her teens. I’m happy she’s done well for herself, but I don’t need her poisoning Sybil’s mind against me.

“It’s understandable to be concerned, but I wouldn’t have brought you if I thought you’d be harmed. You’re safe with me.” I lift her hand to my lips and point at the brownstone on the corner of the block. “That’s the place. We won’t stay long. I promise.”

"I trust you." Sybil smiles and uses her free hand to reach for her clutch. She removes a mirror from her small satin bag and rubs her lips together. There's nothing to fix. She looks like a goddess.

"Good girl."

Chapter Nine

“Who is this?” An elegant woman with auburn hair pulled into a tight bun and wearing diamond earrings the size of nickels appears shocked to see me. She places her hand on her chest but seems to stop herself from releasing a full-on gasp.

I assume Boris didn’t inform her his guest was a woman. Although she addresses herself to Boris, she keeps her eyes trained on me, letting her narrowed gaze examine me from top to bottom.

I feel exposed and judged, but I stay silent, unsure how Boris plans to introduce me. I’d hate to say the wrong thing right out of the gate. With a fake smile plastered across my face, I follow him past the foyer with my hand in his and his eyes on me. Butterflies invade my tummy, taking flight every time our eyes lock.

He’s fucking magnificent. I was a fool to believe I could resist his charm. Boris Volkov is all man, not a boy or one of the guys my parents try to encourage me to date, the ones who never interested me. I thought there was something wrong with me. It’s a relief to know they were just the wrong kind of men.

“This is my girlfriend, Sybil Sheridan. Sybil, this is Yarina Pavlova, an old friend.” Boris’s introduction makes Yarina’s face contort with utter disgust. I’m unsure if she’s upset over our relationship or appalled that he’d use the word ‘old’ to describe her.

“You know what I mean, Yarina. We’ve been friends for ages,” Boris corrects himself, but it’s not enough to wipe away her scowl. He doesn’t seem to care. He grins from ear to ear, showing off a perfect set of straight, white teeth. The man is flawless, an incredible specimen of masculinity and raw sex appeal. His scent makes my mouth water, and he looks like a god in a tailored suit. Everything about him screams perfection.

Except for his profession. Leading a brutal crime family is more than a tiny imperfection. It’s a thousand red flags in one.

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