I turn to see Talia standing awkwardly by the trellis partition.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you,” she says with a blush.
“You didn’t, Talia,” Esme stammers quickly. “Why don’t you take Phoenix for a walk…? Once the party gets going, I’d prefer him to stay in here.”
“Of course, Mrs. Kovalyov,” she says.
I see Esme’s nose scrunch up. She makes the same expression every time anyone addresses her in a remotely formal way.
Svetlana is the only one who’s comfortable addressing Esme by name, and that’s mostly because the two of them have formed a close friendship in the last few months.
Talia’s wearing nicer clothes today. She’s dressed in black pants and a white blouse. She’s even put her hair up in a tasteful chignon.
She still looks uncomfortable as hell though, but that probably has more to do with me than what she’s wearing.
She’s in her early twenties and came highly recommended. But the deciding factor was the fact that Esme warmed to her immediately.
“I can trust her with my son.”
That’s what Esme had said after our second interview with her. I felt the same.
I watch as Talia scoops Phoenix up in her arms and exits the room quickly. The moment we’re alone, I grab my wife and press my lips down on hers.
“Boy,” she gasps, when I pull back, “you don’t waste any time, do you?”
“You dress like that and expect me to keep my hands to myself?” I ask. “Keep dreaming, woman.”
I find her mouth again, and her lips part for me immediately. I push her up against the nearest wall and my hand starts sliding up her dress—just as I hear the click of the door on the other side of the room.
“Fuck,” I growl, just as Esme pushes me away from her and adjusts the skirt of her dress. “Why didn’t I lock the fucking door?”
Esme suppresses a smile just as Svetlana appears between the trellis partition. “Sorry to disturb you two,” she says, a knowing twinkle in her eyes. “But we need you out there, boss. A line is starting to form already.”
“Today is invited guests only,” I say impatiently. “Tell the rest to fuck off and come back tomorrow.”
“He’s a real people person, isn’t he?” Esme teases.
“Such a charmer,” Svetlana chimes in.
I roll my eyes as the two of them laugh at my expense. Maybe I’m not such a fan of this friendship after all. Two against one is unfair odds.
“Shall we, husband?” Esme asks, extending her hand out to me.
I take her hand, a swell of pride rising inside me.
I’ve accomplished a lot in the last six months. I’ve taken back the Bratva, saved my father’s legacy, and established my own at the same time.
But none of that accounts for the pride I’m feeling right now.
That’s all about the woman standing next to me.
* * *
“We came a long way to get here, Artem,” Kian says, his gaze constantly flickering around the club like he’s still sizing it up. “But I’m impressed with how you’ve handled things.”
I just smile impassively. “When do you intend to return to Ireland?” I ask.
“In three days,” he replies. “So I’ll be back here at least one more time before my flight.”