Page 30 of Dark King Daddy

“I dislike being invited to decorative dinners.”

“It isn’t decorative.”

“No?”

“No.”

Her gaze held mine.

Mikhail looked pleased. Proud in a way Lev rarely allowed himself to look.

“This is why I bring Ksyusha,” he said.

The diminutive changed her.

Not visibly to anyone who had not been watching her all evening. But I had been.

Her face warmed. Her posture eased. Pleasure moved through her before she contained it and turned back to her plate.

Mikhail’s approval mattered.

She wanted it while pretending she did not need it.

I understood that too well.

The sturgeon arrived whole, roasted with lemon and herbs, its skin crisp beneath the lamps. Leonid supervised the placement of the platter. Grey-haired. Slightly stooped. Familiar enough that Lev barely glanced at him.

I watched Leonid’s hands.

Steady. Empty after he served.

He withdrew through the main door as instructed.

Conversation shifted to implementation. Nikita would build the false schedules. Anton would select Orlov personnel. I would place Sokolov surveillance teams and control the vehicles. Arkady would remain uninvolved until the routes were active because his presence made subtlety difficult.

Arkady objected to the wording.

Not the assignment.

Through it all, Ksenia spoke when she had something to add and remained silent when she did not. No performance. No need to dominate the room.

She listened like Mikhail.

She challenged like Anton.

She watched like me.

Every time her eyes met mine, the air seemed to narrow between us.

I had dismissed the thought in the vehicle as lust.

Sitting across from her, I knew that had been dishonest.

Lust was present. Strong enough that I was conscious of the table between us as an obstacle. But I wanted more than her body.

I wanted her.

That was far more dangerous.