MADISYN
My insides stillthrob from the intense orgasm that Mikhail gave me. I can’t remember the last time being fucked ever felt so damn good. Except for yesterday, with Mikhail.
My heart won’t stop slamming against my ribcage, and Mikhail has another surprise in store for me? I’m not sure how much more I can take.
“A surprise?” I sit up in bed and want to reach for the covers, but they’re buried under the pillows. The bed is still neatly made, almost pristine except for the wrinkles we’ve made.
He grunts as he climbs off the mattress.
I can’t take my eyes off his physique. He’s got a dynamite body, thick and muscular. Not to mention his strength.
“This is for you,” he says and approaches his dresser. There’s a large white box, and he brings it to the bed. “Open it.”
I have no idea what he could have gotten for me.
The box is plain and simple. It does not indicate its contents other than its size is quite large. He’s certainly not keeping a ring or a pair of earrings inside.
I lift the lid and pull back the crisp, white tissue paper folded around a black gown. It shimmers in the light and is gorgeous.
“I want you to wear this for me tonight when we go out,” Mikhail says.
“You’re taking me out?” I’m surprised that he’s interested in having me accompany him anywhere. “Is there a work function you have to attend?” I ask.
I don’t recall any upcoming soirees for the bratva, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t one happening. I just might not have been brought in on the event because my team wasn’t made aware of it.
“I’m taking you to dinner,” Mikhail says.
* * *
“This place is amazing,” I say as I sit across from Mikhail. We’re given a table in one of the most ostentatious restaurants in the city. “How were you able to get reservations?”
“I’m a partner in the establishment,” Mikhail says. “The chef and I are friends. He wanted a restaurant but didn’t have the funds. I wanted a restaurant but didn’t have a chef.”
I can’t tell if he’s joking or if there’s more to the story. I wasn’t aware that he was part-owner of any restaurants. What else don’t I know?
“That’s kind of you, helping a friend out,” I say. I give him a genuine smile. I’m impressed he has more ventures than just the illegal kind, although he could be laundering money through this place. It’s something to further investigate and report to Savannah when I contact her.
Mikhail reaches for his red wine and swirls the glass, breathing in the aroma before tasting. “It’s not all generosity.”
I smile politely, like I don’t understand what he’s trying to say. “What do you mean?”
“I’m a businessman, and I only take risks that guarantee my success.”
“But how could you know that this restaurant would be a success?” I ask. “Nothing in life is guaranteed.” I reach for my wine and take a taste. It’s sweet, fruity, and quite perfect, with no overpowering acidity or aftertaste. It is the best wine that I’ve ever tasted.
It also wasn’t on the menu.
Mikhail asked for it specially. Just like our meals.
“Consider it a calculated risk, one that is very low,” Mikhail answers. He’s cryptic and careful not to give anything away that I could use against him.
Not that he has an inkling that I’m FBI. If he did, he wouldn’t have slept with me. Hell, I probably shouldn’t have slept with him, but going deep undercover means doing whatever is necessary to get the job done.
And it wasn’t like I didn’t want to sleep with him. I’d do it all over, again and again.
“Madisyn!” Thomas Slate, one of my colleagues from Quantico, strides right up to our table. He’s in a black suit and tie. Coming to this place, means he’s either on a fancy date or schmoozing with one of the bosses.
Mikhail clears his throat, his gaze hardening. He doesn’t appear the least bit pleased that a gentleman recognizes me.
“I haven’t seen you since our Qua—”
I interrupt him before he can say another word. “It’s been too long,” I say and force a smile. “Thomas, this is Mikhail.” I introduce them, but am careful not to use the word boyfriend regarding Mikhail. I’m not sure what we are. Even undercover, we haven’t quite established our relationship.
“I’m Madisyn’s partner,” Mikhail interjects.
“Oh,” Thomas says, his eyes widening. Does he think we’re FBI partners?
My stomach is doing somersaults. I have to stop him before he says anything that could get either one of us killed.
“It was nice to see you again. It looks like your date is waiting for you,” I say and point toward the front entrance, giving him a hint to leave.
Thomas swiftly takes it, glancing at the door. Whether he’s with a date or not, he seems to get the message. “It was wonderful seeing you again, Madisyn. And it’s nice to meet you, Mikhail. Take good care of her.”
“I wouldn’t dream of anything less,” Mikhail says. His eyes are tight as he studies my expression and then Thomas as he heads out of the restaurant.
The moment Thomas exits the front door, Mikhail is on me with his interrogation. “What was that about?”
“What?” I ask innocently. “Thomas? He’s just an old friend.” I don’t want him getting jealous. I don’t know what he’d do to Thomas if he felt threatened in any way.
Mikhail lifts his wine glass. He doesn’t take a sip yet. His gaze is locked on me. “How do you and Thomas know one another?”
It feels a hundred degrees and like I’m under a heat lamp. “We met in college,” I say, coming up with an excuse. “We were on the same floor in the dorm.”
“Co-ed,” he says. He swirls the wine around in the glass before indulging with a taste.
“That’s right. We were just friends. We had a couple of classes together.”
“And where did you go to school?” he asks. His gaze tightens.