Tempted by Deception (Deception Trilogy #2) by Rina Kent

She’s my bride.

My wife.

Fucking mine.

A dark sense of obsession takes hold of me, urging me to rip off that dress and sink inside her tight heat.

It takes everything in me to stop such thoughts and focus on what’s left to do tonight.

“This isn’t the way to my apartment,” she says meekly, her voice quiet.

“We’re not going back to your apartment. Ever.”

“What?”

“The lease is ending in a month, anyway. Besides, as my wife, you’ll live in my house.”

Her hands ball into fists. “When were you going to inform me of such facts?”

“I just did.”

Her sharp glare cuts to me like a double-edged sword. “What if I said I don’t want to leave my apartment?”

“Then you’d be lying, and I told you not to do that. You’ve been suffocating in there for the past couple of weeks, getting more depressed by the day because it reminds you of ballet.”

“And your house will be the magical solution?”

“Probably. It’s also better secured.” And I can leave her without obsessively watching the cameras and splitting up my guards all over the place to keep her safe.

Her lips purse as if she wants to argue more but thinks better of it. “I want my things from my apartment.”

“They will be in my house tomorrow.”

“Why can’t we go now?”

“Because we have somewhere else to be.”

A delicate frown creases her features. “We’re not going to your house?”

“Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“You need to pay respects to my Pakhan first.”

Her face pales and her throat bobs with a gentle swallow as her voice lowers. “Do I have to?”

“Yes. We already got married without his presence and we can’t forgo this step. You don’t have to talk. Just kiss his hand when he offers it—that’s all.”

“Does this mean I’ll be part of your organization now?” She sounds spooked—terrified, even—but what she doesn’t understand is that her taking this step was merely a matter of time. It would’ve happened anyway, and the sooner she accepts it, the better.

“You’re part of me, Lia. That’s all you need to worry about.”

Her lips part as if to say something, but she purses them again and stares out the window until we reach Sergei’s house.

I help her out, then lift her in my arms when she struggles with her long dress and the crutch. I expect her to fight, but she doesn’t, her tiny body remains inert against mine as I carry her inside.

Only Kolya follows us in as Sergei’s guards nod at my entering. Lia watches her surroundings like a cornered animal searching for an escape, her brow creasing deeper the farther I stride up the stairs and down the hall.

While her arms are around my neck, her attention is elsewhere. I will have to deal with her attempts to pull away from me whether in body or in mind later.

I put her to her feet a few steps away from Sergei’s office, and Kolya hands her the crutch. Before I can say anything, the door opens and Vladimir steps outside.

He pauses at the sight of us and runs his gaze over Lia in a mechanical observation. Even though there’s no other intent behind it, I’m tempted to poke his eyes out.

Lia steps into my side and I relish in the fact that she’s chosen me as protection. In her eyes, Vladimir is a bulky bearded man with a permanent scowl, who appears as if he’s ready to murder everyone in his path.

Since I’ve known him for many years, I don’t see him as a threat. However, this is Lia’s first encounter with him, and the initial impression people usually have of Vladimir is that he’s deadly, probably the most dangerous-looking among the elite.

“Is this why you asked for a meeting with Sergei?” he asks in Russian.

“Yes, but I don’t see why you should be here,” I answer in the same language.

“I came for other matters.” He stares at Lia one last time, then shakes his head and leaves.

I take Lia’s frigid hand in mine and lead her to the door. “Not a word,” I remind her before I knock.

“Come in,” Sergei says in Russian.

I push the door open and she hobbles on her crutch, following me.

We stop in the middle of Sergei’s grandiose study which was originally his brother’s, the late Pakhan, Nikolai. He hasn’t changed a thing about it, as if he’s keeping Nikolai’s memory alive through the grim decor and the countless book editions in Russian.

Sergei is sitting in the lounge area with Igor across from him. I called him over, too, because he needs to see this for himself.

After I broke off the engagement with his daughter, Igor demanded my punishment from the Pakhan, but since I’m Sergei’s ‘golden boy,’ as Kirill likes to call me, he gave me a chance to explain myself.

I prefer action over words.

Igor’s features contort with obvious displeasure as he studies Lia in her wedding dress and the bands around each of our fingers.

She remains in place, but her features pale when she recognizes him.

“I thought you didn’t know her?” Igor doesn’t hide his accusatory tone as he speaks in accented English.

Lia’s fingers stiffen in mine.