Then he’d fallen ill.

  Continually going over the events of the last two weeks wasn’t going to help make sense of anything. My best bet was to try to forget, escape for just a little while. This was as good a place as any to make that happen.

  Exhaling, I jerked up, determined to shove aside every dark thought. A gift basket. Why not see what was inside. Then I’d change and curl up with one of my books on the veranda.

  Lighter on my feet, I headed back to the kitchen, doing another little happy dance when finding a bottle of cabernet as well as snacks to die for. With a quick check of the cabinets, I found both a wine stem in acrylic and a wine opener. Perfect.

  With a glass poured, I headed back into the bedroom to change clothes. There was nothing stuffier than what I’d been wearing. A strangling necessity, but such a beautiful day called for as few clothes as possible.

  The summer dress would do, a pair of sandals all that was necessary.

  Once I was changed, I grabbed my wine and the book whose cover was stained with his fingerprints and headed to the veranda. I preferred the term versus deck. It was so much more elegant than the tiny space barely big enough to fit a single chair at my apartment.

  The moment was perfect, the only music needed the sweet sound of the ocean waves. As soon as I opened the book, another flashed into my mind of Vissarian’s wide grin from his scandalous discovery.

  Hissing, I shook away all thoughts of him as I started to read.

  “On your knees,” Alessandro told me in a husky tone. “Open that sweet mouth of yours, baby girl. You’re going to deep throat my dick.”

  I obeyed without question, dropping ever so slowly. I tilted my head, keeping my hands fisted and my arms to my sides as I’d been taught.

  When he approached, my mouth watered. With a gentle touch, he rolled the palm of his hand across the top of my head, petting me as if his prized dog. “Such a perfect pet. I can’t wait to see you in a collar and leash. But first things first, stick out your tongue. Ah, such a good girl. A very good girl.” He wrapped his hand around the base of his shaft before rolling the tip across my tongue, slathering beads of pre-cum across the surface.

  My pussy clenched several times, wetness slickening my inner thighs. The thought of him fucking me was all I could think about.

  “That’s a very good girl,” he whispered, his words thrilling me.

  Music interrupted the moment, a little too loud for my tastes at the moment. What was wrong with peace and quiet?

  I tried to ignore it, even though the selection of island music included a seriously talented conga player.

  I shifted in the seat, putting my feet up in the other chair, wrapping my hand around the glass while sliding into my delicious fantasy world.

  “Wrap those sweet lips around my cock, baby girl. That’s it.”

  He fisted my hair, rocking onto the balls of his feet as he drove several inches into my mouth. I continued tingling all over, wanting nothing more than to please him. With his hold firm, he pumped the rest inside, the tip hitting the back of my throat. When I gagged, he issued a tsking sound.

  “Take every inch.”

  With my heart racing, I swirled my tongue, fighting tears of frustration burning my eyes. If I didn’t perform well enough, I’d be punished.

  His face twisted as every muscle in his body tensed. I noticed the moment he grabbed the thick leather strap, tensing from anticipation.

  “You need training, baby girl. That’s alright.”

  The single crack of the belt jarred my senses, yet my pussy was on fire, the ache becoming intense.

  “What the hell?” I spit out. The music was louder than before. Groaning, I slapped the book down on the table and rose to my feet, moving to the railing to try to locate the source.

  I found it quickly enough and the moment I did, I shifted against one of the thick columns.

  Oh, my freaking God. While an incredible grouping of tropical foliage covered a portion of the sweeping veranda covering an entire side of a much larger cottage only yards away, I still had a bird’s-eye view not only of the covered deck, but also of a good portion of the gorgeous living room.

  As impressive as the furniture was, the eye candy basking in the same afternoon sun was much better.

  Him.

  Holy shit. I slunk back even further. He was standing on his deck peering out at the water with a drink in his hand, completely oblivious to the fact someone was watching him.

  Where he’d been wearing a confining suit before, much like I’d been wearing my typical uniform, now he stood in bare feet and little else except for a fluffy towel secured around his hips.

  His extremely carved hips. With the humidity, the material was clinging to every thick muscle.

  Including the one between his legs. I bit back a moan.

  He was even more gorgeous than I’d envisioned, his skin already a golden brown as if spending the exactly right amount of time in the sun. I’d been right about his tattoos. They covered both arms and his chest in a marvelous, intricate design that created a desire to trace my finger along every edge.

  Or my tongue.

  Now I had to fight to keep from making a sound. Maybe I should start reading thrillers instead, the filthy thoughts running through my mind so naughty it was possible I would burn in hell. I reached for my wine, trying to remain as quiet as possible. I hadn’t been gifted such a magnificent show in a very long time.

  He leaned on the railing as he sipped his drink. Suddenly, the music was a perfect fit for the moment. I lingered my gaze across his strong jaw and broad shoulders, wondering why I hadn’t noticed he barely fit inside a doorway.

  His chest was a creation of beauty, the more colorful ink highlighting his six-pack abs perfectly. The way he had the towel draped allowed me to see the clear definition of the deep V cut. If only I could see just how deep the indentation was.

  Oh, this was so bad, even worse than what he’d found in my suitcase. Turning around, I told myself to stop enjoying the voyeuristic moment. That wasn’t the kind of woman I was.

  Who was I kidding? When you had candy sitting right in front of you, one out of a hundred people could keep from snatching a piece. One more look wouldn’t hurt me. Then I’d sacrifice my desires for a taste of the forbidden for my personal insistence on professionalism.

  When I turned around, I grimaced in disappointment.

  He’d walked back inside and out of my line of sight.

  That would teach me for bending my own rules. Gawking at a client wasn’t in the good girl rulebook.

  I settled into the chair, this time propping my feet onto the railing. With the wineglass in my hand, I tried to read a few more pages.

  The music was soothing, putting me into a relaxed mood and soon, I realized I’d read the same page at least four times.

  And my wineglass was empty.

  Time for a refresh and some of the munchies I’d found in the basket.

  As soon as I got up, I heard another noise. This time a voice. His voice. I casually looked around, determined to walk inside as I’d told myself I was going to do.

  First, I noticed he was talking on the phone.

  “Yes, I appreciate the confirmation on the meeting location. I’ll be there at eleven.” His voice boomed, the tone much more aggressive than he’d had with me.

  After that, I realized he was naked, the towel no longer perched precariously on his chiseled hips. Oh, my freaking God. His cock was long and thick. I immediately sucked in my breath, trying to tear my eyes away from his gorgeous physique, but that simply wasn’t possible.

  He was the epitome of the guy on every romance novel that all the girls swooned over.

  Both my mouth and throat were suddenly dry, the quick pitter-patter of my heart matching the blood racing through every vein, heated to the point I was sweating between my breasts.

  The Russian blond was an absolute god.

  The moment he ended the call, I did the unthinkable.

  I dropped the glass. Plastic or not, the sound drew his immediate attention.

  As with all moments and acts of utter embarrassment, everything happened in slow motion if for no other reason than to allow the mind to process the moment of horror.

  He slowly turned his head, walking to the very edge of his deck and peering across the lush foliage and directly into my eyes.

  CHAPTER 8

  Vissarian

  Feisty as fuck.

  That was the perfect expression for the stunning blonde with the killer figure.

  Captain Fallon Zimmerman.

  The beautiful woman I’d caught staring at me with wide eyes and a heightened look of desire had impressive credentials. As with everyone who entered my life, whether in business or in pleasure, I felt required to run a limited check on who she was and any ulterior motives she might have.

  She carried both her private and commercial pilot’s license while also listed as a Certified Flight Instructor. In addition, she had various multiple engine and instrument ratings.

  She currently worked for American Airlines and had been for a couple of years.

  Before that she’d been in the Air Force. That certainly added to her fabulous allure. She was very much a powerful woman in her own right.

  At least knowing a little about her kept my earlier impetuousness in check. I just had a thing for blondes. So sue me.

  From what I could tell, she’d been offered few private gigs including by several well-to-do corporations. Nothing glaring had jumped out at me, which was my natural tendency when someone so luscious just dropped into my life.

  If only Jeffrey knew the evil thoughts racing through my brain. Not that I needed his permission. Somehow, I didn’t think Fallon would appreciate the naughty ideas lingering in my mind. She was certainly a cautious woman, which was to her benefit.

  But it also made me crave devouring her that much more.

  A part of me felt guilty for daring to hunger for another woman.

  Even if I was grateful for feeling so alive for the first time in years.

  The hunger was real. There was no denying it.

  I’d yet to delve any deeper into Fallon’s private life, although her address was listed in Miami.

  Almost everything about her intrigued me, including how I’d managed to embarrass her.

  I had to admit the moment I’d seen the sexy toy, my cock had twitched into life for the first time in so long that the surprise had remained just below the surface. With business booming and certain issues the regime had faced with other crime syndicates, I’d had little time to consider anything more than a one-night stand.

  Not that I’d had an inkling to do so.

  My life was all work and no play.

  It certainly wasn’t a good idea to even consider becoming involved with someone who was technically working for me, but the fact she was temporary had allowed me some seriously filthy thoughts.

  While almost everything seemed buttoned up about her, the book and the vibrator told a story of frustration. My thoughts drifted to the fact she’d dated Jeffrey. I liked the guy. He was decent people, yet he was a clear womanizer.

  Well, hell. Maybe going on this trip had an upside after all.

  Once upon a time, Jeffrey had almost convinced me to go in on a small orgy. I’d been much younger then. I’d lied and said timing had prevented me from doing so when in fact, I’d felt guilty for even considering it.

  He usually dated two women at a time, his wild stories often leaving me wondering whether the two girls had any idea about their competition. Something told me that Fallon wouldn’t have tolerated such bullshit.

  I laughed softly as I grabbed a shirt from the suitcase.

  I’d give the woman credit. Given the flush of the most perfect shade of rose on her cheeks, I’d expected her to rush away, pretending that she hadn’t caught me after taking a shower.

  But she hadn’t.

  To my surprise, she’d picked up the empty glass she’d dropped, lifting it in a salute. With a huge smile on her face, she’d given me a onceover, using that moment to head inside.

  And I’d waited, curious as to what she would do.

  The answer?

  She’d refilled her drink, returning yet heading toward the comfy-looking chair facing the other direction where she’d proceeded to read a book.

  The book of choice?

  The one I’d discovered hiding in her suitcase.

  The one I’d dared read a few paragraphs of.

  Since I was a red-blooded boy, I’d taken the moment to notice what she’d changed into. The dress had hugged against every rounded curve, but not so tightly that it hadn’t left much to my imagination. In fact, for the last thirty minutes, I’d thought about nothing else but peeling it off and discovering the hidden curves that had already made my mouth water.

  She’d lost the pin holding her hair into a tight bun and I’d been surprised how long and luxurious the thick strands appeared in the golden halo of light. The way the wind blew, keeping her hair shifting back and forth across her shoulders kept my attention for a few seconds.

  Even now as I thought about catching her watching me, my balls tightened.

  No one in my family or beyond would ever say I coveted anything. Not women. Not clothes. I had very little of what anyone could call art on my walls, nor did I shop at the finest men’s clothing stores or jet away to Europe to a favored Italian tailor.

  Now, years later, there were two things in my life that meant something to me.

  My Harley and my wine collection.

  Everything else was simply a necessity or had been a gift.

  Now perhaps that was a callous way to think about any future relationships, but I knew who I was. Dead and dangerous. While magazines had enjoyed labeling every Dmitriyev male as an incredible catch, only my family understood the depth of my pain.

  Exhaling, I took a few seconds as memories of the past collided with the shutdown mechanisms I’d forged into place fifteen years before. I’d spent relatively little time around Fallon, yet she’d managed somehow in her bag of tricks to pick the padlock I’d put into place long before.

  Fuck. Another good reason for never getting serious with anyone. Granted, I wasn’t considered the playboy like my cousin Kazimir, but when the physical urge had hit me, I’d made a habit of enjoying the company of a woman for a finite period of time.

  Few knew the reason because it was none of their goddamn business.

  Not that I was pining away for some long-term relationship. Then why was I suddenly running over my life with a fine-tooth comb? I didn’t know anything about Ms. Zimmerman except I had a feeling if she wasn’t hiding behind a mask of professionalism, she’d allow me to know exactly what she thought about me.

  I doubted it would be good.

  Which was why I was in the mood to push her from her comfort zone. It was a game I enjoyed playing. Everyone could hide behind something for long enough most people were shattered when the truth was exposed. In my world, the practice was dangerous.

  Moving toward my suitcase, I grabbed one of two weapons, sliding the Baretta under my shirttail into my trousers. Being careful over the years had kept every member of the Dmitriyev family alive. Sometimes against the odds. I grabbed the keycard and headed out the door.

  Why not insist she have dinner with me? We both needed to eat.

  The cottage was quaint, a little smaller than mine and after I knocked on the door, I turned and studied the area. The small hotel was also owned by the Hoffman Group, a landing spot for when members came into town. I hadn’t asked if any were staying here because I just didn’t care.

  A few seconds later, I tried knocking again.

  Interesting.

  Either she had no intention of coming to the door given another wave of embarrassment or she’d decided to venture out. With no access to the rental car, either she’d caught a cab or would be required to remain close to the hotel.

  I strolled through the lobby, scanning the perimeter before heading to the outdoor bar that was attached to the pool.

  The setting was exquisite, the view of the ocean water somehow even more spectacular than what I had in my cottage.

  Our resorts were certainly filled with fabulous amenities, but what we hadn’t considered was a true waterfront concept with every room creating a tropical atmosphere.

  Much like Jimmy Buffett had done with the Margaritaville hotels. The early sketches provided by the Hoffman Group suggested something similar.

  I’d keep that in the back of my mind.

  Even if nothing about the meeting tomorrow excited me. I simply didn’t trust the men. There was no overt reason why other than my instinct told me they were a front for more power than they’d wanted anyone to believe. There were rumors of various European officials disappearing, but up to this point, no dots had been connected since the people vanishing had been from several different countries.

  One news article had caught my eye and I’d investigated further. The fact the group had sought out our expertise didn’t allow me to offer them any concessions.

  It would be very interesting to hear what they had to say. At minimum, perhaps we could learn if the Russians in Moscow were planning a sudden visit to America. I snickered from the thought.

  Once outside in the waning sun, I swept the oversized patio, finding her sitting at a table for two, peering out at the water.

  Unfortunately, she wasn’t alone and instantly I bristled.

  The picture of the man hadn’t presented him as menacing as he appeared now. Or maybe my instant dislike was for an entirely different reason.

  Ludolf Hoffman.

  I’d wondered if he’d make his presence known prior to the meeting. The invitation I’d received had included accommodations, and I’d point blankly told the girl who’d contacted me I’d need two suites, including one for my pilot.

  She’d obliged without question.

  Now I wished to fuck I’d booked a room elsewhere. I would say I didn’t like to mix business with pleasure, but that would make me a hypocrite given my thoughts regarding Fallon.