Page 8 of Savage Little Lies

Judging from how uninterested Dmitri seems in her, I doubt they’re sleeping together unless he’s really desperate for someone to warm his bed. He doesn’t seem like the desperate type, though.

“I’ll do my best to drive a wedge between them,” I tell him.

“No, you won’t do your best. You will do it, yeah? We talked about this,” he scolds me. “I chose you for this above everyone else. Don’t forget what the consequences will be if you can’t get it done.”

The call ends with no reassurance, just expectation.

Swallowing hard, I gather myself and step out of the alleyway, venturing down the sidewalk slowly as I pass in front of the fancy restaurant with a large front window. My eyes quickly scan the brightly lit interior, and I catch a glimpse of Dmitri and Annika seated at a table in the middle of the restaurant.

Annika’s back is to me, but I get a decent look at Dmitri. Maybe it’s just his resting face, but the gorgeous man looks miserable as Annika waves her hands around and talks animatedly.

Lately, he’s been trying to be nicer to her in front of the office staff, but I can see right through his attempts to pretend that he wants to marry her.

In our world, marriages aren’t about love. They’re about leverage. Building legacies.

My father thought that as Dmitri’s assistant, I might overhear him say who’s in charge of the Bratva, bad-mouth his future in-laws, or dig up some dirt good enough to start a war between the two families. So far, I’ve got nothing other than that he only has lukewarm feelings at best for his possible bride-to-be.

I take the closest crosswalk and move to the sidewalk on the other side of the street, using my phone camera to zoom in on the restaurant’s window. It’s fairly blurry, but I can still sort of make out Dmitri’s expression as he listens to whatever Annika is yammering on about.

Days later, I still can’t believe she called me a good little bitch. I’ll actually be doing Dmitri a favor by ruining their destined marriage.

Not that he’s probably any better.

My father calls him ruthless.

So far, I haven’t seen a glimpse of that side of him, but I know it’s there, lurking.

So, how do I break them apart?

I chew on my bottom lip in thought as I continue watching them, noting how Dmitri swishes his wine around in the glass then downs it in only two sips. How Annika keeps adjusting her dress and her hair. I hate that her face is classically pretty, despite being rotten on the inside. She certainly acted like she wanted to mark her territory when we first met. I think she felt threatened by me. As if I could tempt away the rich, handsome Russian mobster from her with just the crook of my finger.

The only interest Dmitri has shown in me is an obvious appreciation for my breasts that he’s repeatedly stared at more times than I can count for longer than is professional or polite. Breasts that Annika is sorely lacking.

It might be a long shot, but there’s one weakness I haven’t exploited yet.

I don’t see Annika unhooking her claws from Dmitri even though he’s already halfway out the door.

Hiring a prostitute to try to sleep with him and send the pictures to Annika would never work, or my father would’ve already done it.

The idea settles in slowly. It’s dangerous, but it could work.

I tuck my phone into my coat pocket and walk back across the street, my adrenaline picking up as motivation sets in. Even though I’m on a tight budget, I’ll need to buy a few extra things to put my plan in motion.

As I pass the restaurant again, I steal one more glance in Dmitri’s direction, watching him run his fingers through his dark hair as he gazes down at the table in disinterest. It’s so hard to get a read on him, and for my plan to work, I’ll have to fix that.

Dmitri suddenly glances up and even turns his head in my direction, making my heart jump into my throat.

I quickly duck my head, hiding under the visor of my black baseball cap as I hurry away from the restaurant.

Please don’t let him have seen me.

If he catches me watching him, he’ll suspect that I’m up to no good and probably torture the truth out of me.

My pace doesn’t slow down until I’m a few blocks away. I inhale sharply as I stop in front of a large, lit-up storefront, my eyes landing on a blue mini-dress displayed on a mannequin.

Sleeveless. Tight. Short. The dark blue of Dmitri’s eyes.

It wouldn’t hurt to give him a little something more to look at.