Free Reign (The Syndicate: Crime and Passion Book 2) by Kaye Blue Page B

response, or an illuminating one, but I couldn’t quite think of a way to press the issue without being too aggressive. I had an inkling of what was happening today. This was a time of transition and his attire told me that today would mark the one where he introduced himself. A big day, a dangerous one, potentially, but not one he seemed willing to discuss with me.
    So instead, I stayed quiet, continued to watch him.
    “That was great,” he said a few minutes later after he’d dropped his fork.
    “Thank you,” I said.
    He pushed his chair back and then looked at me, assessing me openly. He started at my shoes and worked his way up my body to the top of my head and then back down.
    I again felt that awareness under his gaze, wondering what he saw, trying to read his expression to figure it out at the same time as I remembered what it had been like to have him inside me.
    I locked eyes with his.
    “You look pretty,” he said.
    “Thank you,” I said, my voice almost trembling, not nearly as strong as I wanted it to be. “You too.”
    “Thanks,” he said, but his expression had changed again.
    He went silent again for a moment and then stood. I followed suit and we faced each other, looked at one another awkwardly. We were close enough to touch and I couldn’t help but notice how tall he was. When my eyes clashed with his, my heart stuttered again, and I watched him, unsure of what to say next.
    “Can I ask you a question?” he said. His voice wasn’t tentative. I didn’t think he was capable of that, but there was some question in it.
    I nodded.
    “How do I look?” he said.
    I smiled. “Fishing for compliments, Sergei?”
    He lifted one corner of his mouth. “No. Just looking for an opinion.”
    I broke his gaze, ostensibly to look at his clothing but mostly because I needed some relief from the intensity of his stare.
    I looked up again, letting my gaze rest on his jaw, which was smooth, freshly shaven, instead of meeting his eyes again. And as I waited, I weighed his question, weighed his words, tried to think of the response that he wanted to hear.
    “You can be honest, Daniela. I was asking because I really want to know,” he said.
    I looked into his eyes, saw what I thought was truth there. “You do look really nice,” I said. “It’s nice,” I said, nodding toward the blue-striped tie.
    “But?” At the sound of his deep voice I looked up into his eyes again, searching for some hint of anger, some confirmation as to whether I should express what I thought.
    All I saw was patience, and it gave me the confidence to continue.
    “But…” I trailed off, considering my words as I stared at the blue-striped tie.
    I looked up at his eyes again. “You should lose the tie.”
    He lifted his brows. “Lose the tie?” he said.
    I nodded. “It doesn’t fit.”
    “I look like a kid playing dress up?”
    I smiled. “I would never say that, but yeah.”
    He nodded. “I thought so too.”
    As he spoke he reached up, unknotted the tie, and slid it off, the swish of silk against linen filling my ears, immediately conjuring the image of Sergei taking off more.
    “Better?” he asked.
    I looked up at him, my gaze centered on his strong throat and before I could suppress the instinct, I reached up and popped open the first two buttons of his shirt.
    “Better,” I finally said, meeting his eye.
    The moment passed between us, suddenly rich, heavy, so intense, I forgot who he was, who I was, and instead lost myself in the reflection of his eyes.
    “Thanks,” he said a moment later, bringing me back to the present. “You’ll be here tonight?”
    The promise in his words set off a beat of desire that thrummed through my blood. I nodded.
    “Good,” he said.
    Then he turned his back to me and walked out of the kitchen.

Eleven
    S ergei

    S he’d been right about the tie.
    The thought occurred to me as I sat in the SUV next to Adrian and watched as the men assembled at Santo’s favorite club, or at