Gilded Cage: A Russian Mafia Romance (Kovalyov Bratva Book 1) by Nicole Fox (free novel 24 .txt) 📗

Not in a million fucking years.

But when I walk further into the store, I find myself stopping and glancing around with grudging admiration.

Their pieces are certainly sexy and very beautiful.

I end up in a dressing room again. This time, the saleswoman is a tall, statuesque red head named Monica.

Despite my annoyance, I can’t help but try a few of the pieces she suggests for me.

Some are subtle—black silk teddys with intricate details across the breasts.

Others are more risqué—sheer bras with body harnesses.

And there are other options that actually make me blush, like the selection of crotchless Ouverte briefs and strap thongs that reveal more than they hide.

After I’ve tried on a few pieces, however, I wave them all away and shake my head.

Something has just occurred to me.

A way to take a little bit of control back for myself.

Monica’s lovely, charcoal-ringed eyes go wide with disappointment as she glances at me.

“You don’t like anything, ma’am?” she asks.

“Actually, I think every piece you’ve shown me is gorgeous,” I tell her. “But it’s not what I’m looking for.”

She looks at me with confusion. I just give her a smile, refusing to explain what I mean. “I think I’d like to take a look around the store myself.”

I walk around for about fifteen minutes with Monica tailing me the entire time.

Until I turn and see a mannequin a few feet away from me and my eyes light up.

“That’s it,” I say, pointing. “That’s what I want.”

“Uh… are you sure, ma’am?” Monica asks, clearly surprised.

“I’m sure,” I say with a wicked smile. “Very, very sure.”

Ten minutes later, I walk out of the lingerie store feeling as though I’ve finally got one up on Artem.

It’s probably only a temporary high, but I’ll take my wins where I can get them.

There’s one other thing left on my own personal agenda, though.

Before I get into the car, I turn to Crew Cut.

“I want to stop by a pharmacy.”

He frowns. “Why?”

My eyes flare wide as I stare him down. “Would you like me to give you a detailed explanation of my lady problems?”

He looks instantly uncomfortable. I have to resist the urge to laugh.

It’s the most expressive I’ve seen him all day.

“Okay, we’ll stop by a pharmacy,” he nods. “But you have only ten minutes.”

When we get to the pharmacy, I hurry inside as Blue Eyes stays by the entrance. Thankful to have gotten a few moments of privacy, I steal towards the pharmacist’s counter and stop in front of the portly older woman behind a glass partition.

“What can I help you with, dear?” she asks without so much as looking up at me.

My fingers shake just a little, but I ring them together and force them back to steadiness.

I need to do this.

But I absolutely cannot let Artem find out.

“Um… I just need to know… what do I take for a healthy pregnancy?”

21

Artem Artem’s Office

I close the page on one file and reach for the next one just as Cillian appears at the door to my office.

His brow furrows.

“Can I help you?” I drawl.

“According to the boys, you’ve been here all day.”

“And that’s cause for concern?”

Cillian steps into my spacious office and crosses the room. He rests his hands on the chair opposite my desk but he doesn’t sit down.

“It’s not like you to spend the day at the office,” he says. “Much less spend it doing paperwork. Can you even read?”

“Fuck off,” I mutter.

He’s not wrong, but I need the distraction. There’s a certain dark-haired temptress at home who was making it very difficult for me to control my baser impulses.

It doesn’t help that I know exactly how giving into those impulses would feel.

Last night after dinner, my cock had risen with my anger. I’d been forced to jack off to the memory of our night together in The Siren. I was disgusted by how irresistible the temptation was.

“Anyway, someone needs to do it,” I say dismissively. “And I know you’re not much of one for administrative tasks.”

“And someone will,” Cillian replies. “I just never expected you to be that someone. Especially considering you have a fiancé at home waiting for you.”

I raise my eyes to him. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?” he asks innocently.

“Don’t pretend that this is anything like a real relationship,” I say. “She’s not my fiancée. She’s not my anything. And she’s certainly not waiting for me.”

“And thus we’ve arrived at the heart of the issue. You’re avoiding her!” he announces triumphantly. He looks way too pleased with himself.

Sometimes, the fucker knows me a little too well.

“I had work to do,” I say gruffly, looking down at the open file without actually seeing anything there.

“Sure you did,” Cillian nods. “And I’m not Irish.”

I crack a smile and lean back in my seat. “I haven’t managed to beat that out of you yet, huh?”

“Never,” Cillian scoffs. “My family and country may have turned their backs on me, but I’ll never turn my back on them.”

“They lost a good man the day you left Ireland.”

Cillian smiles. “But you won because of it.”

I roll my eyes while I chuckle, but I can already sense Cillian moving off the topic of his complicated past. We don’t go down that road too often. It holds a lot of hard memories for him.

“So… how has it been going, with Esme?”

“We’re back to that topic, are we?”

“It’s just a question.”

“Doesn’t have to be.”

“Tough shit.”

I sigh. “It’s fine.”

“You told her about the marriage?”

“I did.”

I know that my short answers are probably revealing more than I’d like, but I can’t bring myself to elaborate.

How can I explain to Cillian when I barely understand what’s going on myself?

I’ve battled half the day trying to get her out of my head. Every time I close my eyes, I keep seeing her in that sexy silver dress, her shoulders on display, her face natural and glowing like she was the fucking moon.

And then I picture fucking her until we’re both ragged and spent.

“And?” he prompts.

I rub my temples. I