Page 34 of Forbidden Forget-Me-Not

Kaylani stirred, her lashes fluttering as she woke. She glanced up at me, her hand sliding slowly over my stomach. She smirked as her fingers drifted lower, testing my resolve, daring me to stay quiet.

I tightened my jaw.

“I know that last night got a little out of hand,” Dimitri said, beginning to reframe events I had watched unfold.

Kaylani wrapped her hand around my shaft and slipped beneath the blankets.

Holy hell. She was going to get me shot.

I swallowed, listening to her father drone on. I wasn’t even sure why he was calling me specifically. Unless he already knew she was here.

He might.

That thought clawed at my mind. I glanced at the small security camera light in the corner that warned of intruders. It stayed green.

My worry was shoved aside as her hot mouth slid down over me.

Dimitri continued speaking, unaware and unconcerned. Something about this was truly fucked up, but I refused to analyze right now.

“My daughter seems comfortable with you.”

If he only knew how comfortable.

“I’d like you to escort her to lunch today. Neutral ground. Public setting. Somewhere she doesn’t feel ambushed.”

As if anything involving Dimitri was ever anything but an ambush.

She moved faster. My abs clenched, my heart lodged in my throat. I tossed the blankets aside just in time to watch my cock disappear all the way down her throat. Not even with all my training could I force myself to look away from the bobbing head beneath the blankets or ignore the effect of her devilish intent.

Fuck me.

I licked my lips. “Where?”

“La Seraphine. I trust you know the location?”

“I do,” I said, sucking in a sharp breath as she brought me closer to the edge. I fought to keep my voice steady. “And the meeting is with you?”

“No.”

I waited, knowing he was holding out for effect.

“Julian.”

My grip tightened on the phone.

“I won’t be attending,” Dimitri added smoothly. “No need to escalate things further with my hot-headed daughter.”

As if last night hadn’t already been an escalation. As if this were her fault.

“I’ll inform her,” I said evenly.

“Be sure you are there,” he said, the undercurrent unmistakably a threat. “And Goran—” His voice softened just enough to sound civilized, almost fatherly. “Tell her I’m sorry. For last night.”

Sorry wasn’t remorseful to a man like Dimitri. It was leverage.

“I will,” I replied.

The line went dead. I locked the phone and tossed it aside.