Too much work; too much prep.
“It made you come hard, no? What if we agree to stop as soon as it fails to do so?” He assumed we’d be spending that much time together?
“Do you want to tie me up?” What did my future hold?
“Yes. I want to control the pace of what happens between us.”
“When did you get interested in this stuff?” Had I put off a spank me vibe to Dmitri? Was that why he’d engaged with me instead of Karin? The thought made me uneasy.
“A year ago. My brothers have those leanings. I got the idea from Maksim.”
“Do Lucía and Natalie share those leanings?”
“Proudly.”
The PhD and the heiress? Mind blown. “Is that why you got your piercing done?”
“I suppose it’s all related.”
“You just woke up and thought, I could pierce my dick today?” Maybe for a lover?
He shrugged. “I considered the decision for a while. I wanted to make myself different than I’d been, and I thought it would alter the . . . sensations.”
Different. Altered. What was wrong with how he’d been?
“I had it done a few months ago.” He paused. “You don’t mind it?”
“I’ll probably dream about your dick tonight.”
“I could stay over and ensure that.” Oh, he could be so charming.
Dmitri was a conundrum. At times tonight, I could sense him struggling socially—hesitating before he spoke, gazing away, seeming to have more in common with quiet Aleks. Yet then Dmitri could turn around and demonstrate as much charm as Maksim.
“Why have you slept with so few men?” he asked.
“I wasn’t exactly intent on preserving my virtue, sirrah.”
The corner of his lips almost tilted up. A micro-smile. “Then why?”
Residual tequila made me reveal my superpowers: “I can always tell two things. When someone is lying to my face, and when someone is selling me. The words sound like nails down a chalkboard to me. It’s always been that way.” A handy talent. “When I was a teenager, the guys I fooled around with pulled out all the stops to close one deal in particular. It turned me off like a bucket of ice water.”
I remembered all their ploys.
My parents are out of town—but only for this weekend. (This deal won’t last long!)
If you don’t wanna be with me like this, maybe I’ll find a girl who will. (Act now or lose this opportunity forever!)
We don’t have to go all the way; I’ll only put the tip in. (Sign and drive! No cash down!)
Dmitri tucked a stray curl behind my ear. “I will never lie to you.” Eventually he would. They always did.
But I didn’t care—because I was running game on him. “When do you return to Russia?”
“That depends. I have an opportunity I’m investigating here.” He made me sound like the opportunity.
Was he almost on the hook? If so, then I would need to be elusive. Give and take, ebb and flow. “I might have to work tomorrow night.”
“Why?”
“Is work such a foreign concept?”
“I know work. For over a decade, I sequestered myself in a research lab seventeen hours a day, seven days a week.”
“Really?” According to Pete’s notes, Dmitri owned two of the fifty highest-grossing tech patents.
He nodded. “I’ve already completed a lifetime of work. Literally. I did the math.”
“Then what were you asking?”
“Are you working toward something? Saving up?”
“Oh. I wouldn’t mind replacing A2B. That’s my ancient truck’s nickname.” Because getting me from point A to point B was the only thing noteworthy about the junker. Lately, point B was a stretch. When I’d left Brett, I’d also left behind the car he’d been paying for. “By the sound of its engine, I’m pretty sure my truck’s trying to tell me, ‘Go on . . . without me . . . save yourself.’”
The corner of Dmitri’s lips curled again. I hadn’t seen him smile fully, but his micro-smile was still a heart-stopper.
“A vehicle is all you want?”
Was he angling for big gifts already? I was an ace at milk-cowing! It seemed a little early for step five of the long con—the pitch—but if he was receptive . . . “And I’m getting evicted soon.” So buy me a pony—and a condo!
“We can’t have you getting evicted, moy ángel.”
Step five was best done gradually over several meetings; having planted the seed, I changed the subject. “What did you mean when you said you have difficulty reading others?”
“I can claim no talent for it. I know science and math and technology, but I am repeatedly thrown by people.”
His admission softened me even more toward him. Any hints of vulnerability made this larger-than-life man more relatable—he’s actually a mortal—but he shouldn’t tell people stuff like that, or they’d fleece him blind.
People like me. My pang of guilt hit me like a sucker punch. “Then how do you know who to trust?”
His eyes dimmed. “We always find out in the long run, do we not?”
Whoa, I wasn’t the only one whose trust had been betrayed. And this man was still suffering from it. Had a former friend inflicted that damage? A family member?
A lover?
The idea of him scorned by a woman and possibly still in love with her made me so jealous, I grew anxious. Developing feelings for him would be disastrous.