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Silent Lies: Chapter 12

Drago

I wave at the waiter to bring me another cup of coffee and resume watching Sienna and her brother.

Saying that Arturo DeVille isn’t happy with his sister being married to me is an understatement. He’s also livid as hell because I wouldn’t let Sienna meet with him without my supervision. I told Arturo it’s a security precaution, but the truth is, I’m afraid he might tell her things I don’t want my wife to know.

There are a lot of skeletons in my closet, and Arturo is aware of a few. These past weeks, I’ve gotten to know my wife rather well. Sienna might have been born into a Mafia Family, but she has no love for violence or bloodshed. She’d fool you with her bravado, but my wife is much more sensitive than she lets people around her believe. She’s like a lone dandelion flower in a sea of thorned roses. It would take only a single gust of wind to hurt her delicate seeds. So, I’m not risking Arturio telling Sienna anything that would make her fearful of me.

They are sitting on the other side of the restaurant. Arturo’s meal is getting cold on his plate. He hasn’t even touched it because he’s too busy listing all of my deplorable qualities to my wife.

“—scheming son of a bitch who won’t even let me see you without him present!”

I don’t see Sienna’s reply since she’s sitting with her back to me, but Arturo’s part of the conversation is enough for me to get the gist.

“Yes, but doing business and having my sister wed the bastard are two different things! And don’t give me that crap about you wanting to get married. I don’t buy that bullshit. Did Ajello threaten you to make you marry Popov?”

Yes, Sienna. Did the don threaten you?

My wife’s shoulders drop in what appears to be a sigh, then she leans over the table and takes her brother’s hand. She’s saying something, but I can’t see what it is, damn it! Arturo listens with wide eyes and a clenched jaw, then throws a look in my direction.

“There are things you don’t know about him. Things I didn’t know when this marriage deal hit the table, or I never would have let you near him. He’s dangerous, and I want you out of his clutches.”

Sienna cocks her head to the side. Probably asking for an explanation of what those “things” are. I stand up and head across the restaurant. It’s time to cut this meeting short.

“We’re leaving,” I say when I reach their table. Whether to torture myself or Arturo, I’m not sure, I trace the tip of my finger over Sienna’s bare skin where her fuchsia sweater has slipped down her shoulder. “I need to be at Naos in two hours. Do you want to come?”

Sienna looks up at me and grins. “Can some of the girls tag along, too?”

“Yes.” I nod. “I need to have a word with your brother. Wait here.”

Arturo gets up, glaring at me the entire time we walk through the restaurant to his car which is parked out front.

“I don’t know what you’ve dug up on me,” I say and lean on the hood, “but you’ll keep your mouth shut.”

A look of surprise crosses his face, but it’s quickly replaced with an angry stare. “If you hurt my sister, I’m going to kill you.”

“Does your sister seem to be hurt in any way?” I cast a glance through the window to where Sienna is positioning Arturo’s untouched plate so she can take a photo of it.

“I’ll be watching you,” he barks and gets inside his car.

Once Arturo pulls out of the parking lot, I head back inside the restaurant and take a seat next to my wife.

“What did Arturo want?” I ask.

“Nothing much. He was just checking up on me.” She leans over the table and smirks. “I think my brother is afraid you’re going to eat me.”

“I might.” I reach out and place my hand over hers. “Do you think I’m dangerous, mila moya?”

Sienna’s lips part in surprise, and I need all my self-restraint not to slam my mouth to them. It’s becoming too hard to resist my young wife, even though I know she’s a spy.

“Do you have this place bugged?” She lifts an eyebrow.

“Maybe I do.” I place my free hand on the back of her neck. “Do you think I pose a danger to you, as your brother had said?”

“Yes.” Sienna’s eyes hold mine, unblinking. “Not in the way my brother believes, though.”

Her expression is completely serious, but for a fleeting moment, I glimpse a speck of vulnerability behind her willful stare. In a flash, it’s gone, and her lips widen into a smile.

“We should get going, Drago. I need to get ready for tonight.”

Keeping her hand in mine, I usher her toward the exit. She may believe that she’s successfully avoided the subject, but we’ll get back to it soon enough.

 

* * *

 

I lift the glass of Macallan to my lips and take a sip, observing my wife. Sienna is standing at the bar, laughing with Jelena and three other girls. She’s picked out another sparkling outfit for tonight. It’s a dress this time, covered in vibrant blue-green sparkly bits. Whenever she moves and the lights reflect off her dress, it looks like she’s covered in peacock feathers. She simply glows. I don’t understand how she can wear stuff like this and still look like a million bucks. On anyone else, it would look ridiculous. It’s also way too short.

Scanning the room, my eyes sweep over every man sitting or standing in the vicinity to make sure no asshole is checking out my wife’s legs. Just the thought unleashes my feral impulses.

The moment I saw her after she had gotten dressed for tonight, I sent a word to Misha, my club manager, to relay a message to every male guest before allowing them entry. Any man caught ogling my wife will leave the club with his eyeballs in a wine glass. The people who visit my club are regular clientele, so they know I’m serious. Naos might be neutral ground as far as business is concerned, but that rule doesn’t extend to private dealings. The only way anyone can look at my wife is with respect. All other “looks” will garner consequences.

I spot a man leaning on the bar some distance from Sienna, ordering a drink. He’s the owner of the local fleet management company. I’ve worked with him a few times when we had a shortage of available trucks. He came across as a smart guy, but it appears I was wrong, because he seems to be very interested in my wife’s ass. The barman passes him a bottle of beer, and the moron heads toward the end of the bar where Sienna is standing. Without moving my eyes off him, I beckon the security guard to approach.

“Drag that idiot to my office,” I say and nod toward the guy who now has planted himself next to Sienna and is trying to start a conversation. “Make sure my wife doesn’t notice.”

Sienna ignores the creep and continues chatting with Jelena. The guy finally leaves, heading toward the restrooms, but my guard intercepts him halfway and not so gently “persuades” the shit-for-brains to visit the back of the club. Time to face those consequences.

“I need to take care of something,” I tell Filip in passing. “Keep my wife in your sights.”

Before going to my office, I make a detour to the bar to pick up a spoon and a glass, then turn around and head across the dance floor.

 

* * *

 

When I get back from handling the issue inside the office, a man approaches my booth and stops across from the sofa I’m sitting on. Late sixties, receding gray hairline, thin gold glasses. Endri Dushku. The Albanian leader.

“Endri.” I gesture toward the armchair beside him. “What brings you to New York?”

The older man takes the offered seat and waves off the waiter. “Bogdan called me the other day. He had some . . . concerning information to share.”

“Oh? And what exactly is causing your concerns?”

“What’s prompted your interest in the arms business, Drago?”

“Money,” I say and take a sip of my drink. “But you shouldn’t be worried. I have no plans to encroach on your territory. “

“You delivered a large shipment to Bratva.”

“Yes. But Petrov won’t deal with you anymore, so I don’t see a problem. And after the clusterfuck with the Irish, you’re banned from doing business in New York.” I throw my arm over the back of the sofa. “Supplying guns to people who kidnapped the don’s wife? To be honest, I’m surprised to see you still breathing. So, I don’t see any conflict of interest between the two of us.”

Dushku adjusts his glasses. He always does that when he’s angry.

“And it’ll stay that way?” he asks.

“I’m not looking for a fight, Endri. You have your buyers. I have mine. The market is big enough for the both of us.”

“And what about the Romanians?”

“They’ll soon be out of the picture,” I say. “Once I locate Bogdan.”

“You think getting rid of Bogdan will solve your problem?”

“Remove the head, and the rest will scatter like rats. And I mean that literally.”

“Well . . . I wouldn’t want to be in Bogdan’s shoes, then,” Dushku says. “I hear you got married. Happened a bit suddenly, it seems. Was that a business decision?”

“Of course.”

“Interesting. I noticed your security staff throwing out a man as I was coming in. He was pressing a bloody towel to his face and holding a glass in his free hand. I’m not sure, but I think there was an eyeball inside.”

“So?”

“Does that have anything to do with the warning I received upon entry?” He has a calculating smile on his face.

“Yes. But I’m in a good mood, so I decided to let him keep the other eye.”

“Well, that’s rather . . . out of character for you, if I may say so. Someone might get the idea that the girl is more than a mere business arrangement.”

I squeeze the glass in my hand. There are three things to stay away from in my line of work: False loyalties. Deals that sound too good to be true. And any sort of weaknesses.

I trust very few people in my life. Those who have my loyalty, deserve it. I’d die for them, and I know they would not hesitate to do the same for me. Anyone stupid enough to betray me and think they can get away with it, I make sure they don’t live long enough to regret their decision.

I don’t make any deals unless I’m one hundred percent confident they are solid. Money and power don’t sway me, and I’m not here to be anyone’s fool.

And I certainly don’t have any weaknesses. Or didn’t. However, as I look at Dushku’s self-satisfied smile, I realize I have one now. And she’s currently taking selfies with a martini she isn’t old enough to drink.

“Sienna gave me a direct connection to Cosa Nostra and also Bratva. Two birds, one stone,” I say, watching his face for the smallest reaction. “It’s a matter of principle. I’m simply taking care of my asset.”

“So you don’t like her?”

“She’s barely out of her teens, Endri. Why would I like a spoiled girl who dresses like a clown and spends almost all her time shopping and posting selfies on social media? Sacrifices need to be made for the sake of business.”

“I hear she’s a pretty little thing. Don’t tell me you aren’t at least attracted to her.”

“I like my women to use their heads for something other than a fancy haircut, Endri.”

Dushku laughs and stands up. “Yeah, I see your point. Well, if it doesn’t work out, I have a daughter who’s just finishing her doctorate program, so she might be more up your alley.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

As I watch the Albanian leave, my eyes shift to the spot at the bar where my wife was sitting a moment ago. She’s not there. I turn around and find Sienna standing with her back pressed to a column that has our coats hanging on its side, just behind the sofa where I’m sitting. Staring at me with wide eyes.

Shit.

 

Sienna

 

“I like my women to use their head for something other than a fancy haircut, Endri.”

I plaster my back to the wide rectangular column behind me and close my eyes. It’s slightly rough, but the cool concrete finish is a welcome relief to my overheating flesh.

Everything he said is true. People see what you show them. So why does it bother me that Drago actually believes I’m shallow and stupid?

When I open my eyes, the gray-haired man is getting up, offering his daughter as my replacement while he does so. And my husband, the bastard that he is, doesn’t seem opposed to it. I should leave and pretend I didn’t hear anything, but my legs are rooted to the floor.

Drago turns around and our gazes connect. It takes all my willpower, but I smile and keep that fake grin on my face as he walks around the sofa to stand before me.

“Making plans to replace me? I might not have a doctorate, but I’m pretty sure I’m a more valuable chess piece than that guy’s daughter.”

Drago lowers his head so our faces are at the same level. The sconce above our jackets on the other side of the column is casting its soft light around us, allowing me to see the pulsing vein at his temple as he stares into my eyes. He places his left palm on the surface next to my head and cups my cheek with his right.

“Do you know what could happen if Dushku figures out you are not just a chess piece?” His tone is low and menacing. “He would make sure everyone who has any beef with me knows about it.”

“So?”

“So, I’d have to kill all of them.” This time, his words are as lighthearted as if he’s planning a summer picnic. He tilts his head slightly. “That’s a lot of dead people, mila moya.”

“You don’t kill people. You have your pet assassin for that. That priest guy,” I blurt out without thinking, and only after the words are out of my mouth do I realize what I’ve said.

He blinks, his dark lashes sweeping languidly down and back up until his eyes are fixated on me again. “My . . . ‘pet assassin’?”

Crap. Think! “Yes. Keva mentioned something the other day, and I figured it out.”

“Mmm, did she?” He narrows his eyes at me. “Yes. I guess I would need to send . . . my pet assassin after them. To take care of that problem for me.”

“Why?”

He drops his chin just a little, leaving him looking at me from under his hooded lids. “To make sure they won’t be coming after you.”

“Why would anyone come after me?” I ask in my most sugary voice. “I’m just a spoiled girl who dresses like a clown.”

Drago’s nostrils flare. He clenches his jaw, and his gaze is glued to my lips with such intensity that I expect flames to burst forth.

“You are the very opposite of shallow, Sienna. We both know that. I’m fairly certain you’re one of the most intelligent people I’ve ever met.”

I suck in a breath, taken aback by his words. But my momentary shock is quickly replaced with mirthless laughter as I recall the rest of the conversation I’d overheard.

“That’s not enough, though, is it? You talked about replacing me,” I spit out. “Maybe that’d be the right thing to do. Your buddy’s daughter might be a better match for you. You’ll probably do more than just sleep in the same bed with her.”

Drago closes his eyes, a stream of extremely foul Serbian curses leaving his mouth. Then, he crashes his lips to mine.

I shudder from the ferocity of his kiss—if it can even be called a kiss. This is an onslaught. A hungry, furious claiming. Fisting the front of his shirt, I pull him closer, needing more. His hand comes to grab me under my thigh, and he lifts me. My legs are around his waist, and I marvel at the sensation of being pinned between his hard body and the solid column behind me as his cock presses directly on my core. Drago’s mouth glides along my chin to the side of my neck, and when he bites the tender skin there, I feel myself getting wet. I grab his hair, my fingers tangling in dark strands. His hold on my face disappears, and a moment later, he shoves the phone up to his ear.

“I want everyone out,” he barks, then licks my neck. “Now, Misha.”

The person on the other end of the line is responding, but I don’t hear what he says because Drago throws the phone over his shoulder. The sharp clack of it landing on the floor barely registers as Drago’s mouth finds mine again. Sucking. Biting.

My fingers are shaking as I rake them through his hair. I’ve never felt this way. This urge to get closer to him, even though we couldn’t be closer than we already are. The sounds of voices and hurried feet are all around us as people leave, but I ignore them, intoxicated by Drago’s presence. Nothing else matters. Just him. His body. His lips. His scent. It’s the same scent I’ve been waking up to for weeks.

“Hold tight,” he says into my lips and takes a step back.

My arms encircle his neck as his palms move up my legs and over my ass, under my dress. The lace of my thong rubs over my aching pussy when he tugs on it. The delicate fabric tears. He pulls it away, purposely dragging the lacy material so it brushes over my throbbing clit.

I gasp as my thighs are suddenly slick with my wetness. Drago grabs the underside of my leg again while he unbuttons his pants with his free hand. Oh God, I’m going to have sex—at a club, with people still around. Why don’t I care? The cold surface at my back chills the bare skin of my ass as Drago holds me against the column once more. The tip of his cock presses at my entrance.

“Please go slow,” I choke out. “It’s my first time.”

Drago lifts his head and looks at me. “Your what?”

“My first time,” I repeat when he lowers his eyes to my mouth. “I’m a virgin.”

Green eyes, so focused on my lips, widen, then lift to meet mine. “Do you want to stop?”

I tug on the hair at the back of his head. “No.”

Without breaking eye contact, he shifts me slightly in his hold, aligning our hips. A mix of excitement and panic overcomes me. When the tip enters me, I close my eyes and stiffen.

“Sienna.” A kiss lands on the side of my chin. “Look at me, mila.”

“Will it hurt?” I whisper.

“A little. If you want me to stop, tap my arm. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Drago leans forward, whispering hushed, soothing words just next to my ear. He’s speaking Serbian, but I catch only random phrases. Something about glitter and the name of a bird, but I’m not certain which one. Maybe a peacock. It doesn’t actually matter because the timbre of his voice and his hot breath fanning my neck are melting my insides. This man could read a grocery list and I would come undone just from listening to him.

The tingling in my core is making me crazy. I tilt my head and lick his neck. A low growl leaves his lips and, in the next heartbeat, his cock slides partway inside me. I gasp and grip his hair, reveling in the feel of him stretching my inner walls. There’s some discomfort, but I’m too far gone for it to matter. I tighten my legs around him, needing to get him even closer, deeper.

“Say my name,” he rasps next to my ear.

“Drago,” I moan as he thrusts into me until he’s fully sheathed.

“I love hearing your voice.” He lifts me, then impales me once more. “Again.”

I can’t utter a word because I’m too absorbed in the way my pussy clenches around his cock as my whole body shakes. Never in my life have I experienced anything like this. His touch alone is sending shockwaves through my system, lifting me to soar on the currents of sheer pleasure.

“Again, Sienna!” Drago roars as he pumps into me.

I close my eyes and press my cheek to his. “Drago.”

A deep rumble leaves the back of this throat. It’s guttural and rough. In the next breath, his teeth scrape the skin on my shoulder. More whispered Serbian words. Something about witchcraft, then he curses again. His lips crash against mine once more.

My mind doesn’t seem like mine anymore because I can’t think. I can only feel—him, claiming me with both his mouth and his cock. I grab his hair and bite his lower lip until I taste the metallic tang of blood. It’s punishment for hurting me with his words.

“Not only does she have claws, but sharp teeth, too,” he says into my mouth and buries himself to the hilt. “I see you, mila moya. And I hate that you hide your real self from me.”

“I’m not,” I pant, breath leaving me in short bursts as he pounds into me. Faster. Deeper.

My hair has come undone, the tangled strands plaster to my face. It’s as if I’m superheating and swelling on the inside as I clutch at Drago’s shoulders. A scream builds within my chest while my vision blurs. Like my mind has decided to tune out everything except the sensation of our bodies connecting. Drago’s hands squeeze at my ass cheeks, and his next thrust sends me right into oblivion. Whiteness explodes behind my closed eyelids, and I scream, riding the amazing wave and shattering into the tiniest little pieces.

You should have run while you still had the chance, Sienna, the voice in the back of my mind whispers. You really, really should have.


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