My chest grew warm at his expression. “You love it, don’t you?”

A playful glint in his eye. “It’s all right.”

I grinned. “You love it.”

I walked around the island. “You’re not feeling light-headed when you look at me, are you? Or maybe warmer than usual?” I put the back of my hand to his forehead, as if I was checking for a fever. “What about your heart? Has it started beating?”

He was amused. “Actually, I have been feeling a bit different.”

My eyes widened in alarm.

Then, he grabbed my hand and pressed it against his hard-on.

I shook my head with a laugh, shoving him in the chest and turning to walk away, but he caught my wrist and pulled me closer to say in my ear, “It’s delicious, malyshka. Thank you for making it for me.”

His words settled like molten glass in my blood.

I didn’t sleep in my bed that night.

Not the next night.

Or the next.

I STOOD IN FRONT OF my closet, sawing my lip in nervous deliberation.

Why had I agreed to this?

Because he was annoyingly persuasive, that’s why.

The night before, I was sitting cross-legged on his couch watching one of my “trashy” TV shows, while Christian sat at the island and talked on the phone. As soon as he ended the call, he said, “I need you to go somewhere with me tomorrow, malyshka.”

“Where?” I asked absently. Chad was feeling up Rachel, while his wife was next door in the delivery room having his baby.

“A work dinner.”

I faltered. “Like, a Federal Bureau hosted event?”

“Yes.”

I let out a half-laugh. “No way.”

“I always have a date, Gianna.”

I swallowed, hating every word about to leave my mouth. “I’m sure if you put an ad in the paper, you’ll have a variety of blondes lined up down the hall.”

He set his phone down a little more aggressively than usual. “If I wanted someone else, I wouldn’t be asking you.”

“How would you even explain why I’m with you? Some of the feds at this party might recognize me.”

“No one questions me, Gianna.”

“What if they did?”

“I’d tell them to fuck off.”

I sighed. “We haven’t talked about . . . dates, Christian. Don’t complicate this.”

“You’re the only one complicating it. If you can’t handle going to one party with me without expecting a proposal, then just say so.”

Ugh.

He knew I wasn’t going to say those stupid words.

Later, I pushed his meticulously-placed toothbrush an inch to the left in retaliation.

After an hour-long deliberation, I settled on a Marilyn Monroe-esque black sequin gown. Sophisticated but flashy. I smoothed the dress over my hips, relieved it fit.

I was locking my door when he stepped into the hall behind me. Turning around, I quelled the nerves inside me and raised a brow. “Well, does His Highness approve?”

His heated gaze ran down my body, but something besides lust passed through his eyes. Disapproval? Displeasure? Whatever it was, it sent a burst of annoyance through me. I’d even worn my hair down for him, dammit. I spun around to go back inside and slam the door in his face, but he grabbed my wrist.

“No, malyshka, I like it.” He ran a thumb across my cheek. “This is just new to me.” He paused, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “And I haven’t figured out how to deal with it yet.”

“With what?”

“You.”

I still didn’t understand what he meant, but as he brushed a piece of hair behind my ear and told me in a rough voice I was gorgeous against my lips, all my anger escaped with my next breath.

The dinner party took place at the same hotel as Elena’s wedding, but instead of well-dressed Italians filling the ballroom, it was crawling with feds.

Christian laughed at my expression.

My frown deepened. “What if someone arrests me while you’re in the bathroom?”

“I’d bail you out.”

“If you couldn’t?”

“I’d be locked up beside you.”

I couldn’t stop a smile from appearing.

Women stared at Christian like he was the messiah. Married women, single women, old women, young—didn’t matter. Thankfully, only a select few—the bravest ones without a lick of intuition in my opinion—actually approached him. He was polite but distant with them, and I suddenly wondered what he’d be like with them in bed once we came to an end. The thought put a bad taste in my mouth.

“Are your parents as good-looking as you?” I asked him after we’d been there fifteen minutes and the third woman had already come up to introduce herself. For heaven’s sake, couldn’t she see he had a date?

The subtlest tension tightened in his shoulders. I thought he wasn’t going to answer me, but a moment later, he said, “My mother was.”

Was?

“What about your father?”

“Never met him.”

Oh. Wow.

“Siblings?” I questioned.

“A brother. As for his attractiveness, I couldn’t tell you.” An annoyed edge wove through his voice. “I don’t sit around and wonder about how appealing he looks.”

Okay.

I’d hit something a little sore. And I knew it wasn’t his pretty face. I’d joked with him about it on many occasions, and he’d always brushed it off with a light shoulder. An awkward tension now lay between us, the kind not even a cleared throat could penetrate.

While Christian went to get us drinks, I found our spot at our table. I was already regretting agreeing to come to this party, and things were just about to get worse.

Setting my clutch down, I turned to see where my moody date was in the room, only to come face-to-face with another fed. My gaze slid down his suit that was one size too big, to the Asics on his feet.

“Hi.” He grinned. “I’m Kyle Sheets.”

Smiling tightly, I shook his hand, and replied, “Gianna,” leaving out my last name. I was sure it was associated with too many criminal offenses to count. It was still Marino, and I had no intention of changing it. Russo was the old me, and my maiden name Bianchi didn’t feel right anymore either. Even my name was confused.

“I have to say, you look . . .” He tilted his head. “Familiar.”

Here we go.

I offered a coy smile. “Guess I have a common face.”

“No,” he drawled smoothly, his eyes coasting down my body, “I wouldn’t say that at all . . . So, who are you with?”

I glanced pointedly at the name card beside my purse that read, Christian Allister Guest.

“Ah, I guess I should’ve known.” He looked disappointed, scratching the back of his neck. “Allister didn’t tell me he had such a beautiful girlfriend.”

I somehow doubted Christian would tell this man anything.

Looking back, I should have just rolled with it—the man was clearly trying to find out if I was taken or available. But I was feeling a little petty. Christian knew my entire life story, while I’d only found out he had a sibling five minutes ago. And he’d seemed reluctant to even share that with me. All the words out of his mouth had contradicted this just sex relationship lately, blurring the line into nonexistence, and I needed to take it back a notch.