Made Men 5: Dmitri's Denial (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic)

by Dixie Lynn Dwyer

  She knew this was serious, and she was scared, so scared that she couldn’t sleep at night and was on edge most of the time. Tears stung her eyes, and she whispered,

  “I know that, Fedarro. Believe me, I do, and I’m scared. I mean, this guy cut me.” She kept her hand over her waist, and Mateus hugged her tight. He rubbed her back, and she held onto him.

  “We’ll do whatever is necessary to protect you. Whatever is necessary.”

  * * * *

  Fedarro was sitting in his office some time after Rayanna left. His cousins headed out to oversee business transactions and meetings downtown, and his cell phone rang. Glancing at the number, he felt his gut clench. Dmitri Sanclare was calling. He released a long breath and answered.

  “Dmitri, how are you?”

  “I’m doing well, and you?” he asked, that slow, thick Russian accent a reminder of the man’s power and capabilities.

  “Pretty good. To what do I owe the pleasure of a phone call?”

  “Well, my friend, I was wondering how your cousin is doing.”

  “My cousin?” Fedarro asked with concern.

  “Yanna. I do believe by now, after your men obtained the surveillance videos, that they saw me with her that night. Have you gotten a lead on the individual who hurt her?”

  “How do you—”

  “Let’s not waste time. What is the situation?” Dmitri demanded.

  Fedarro exhaled. He was still getting over the man calling her Yanna and making a pass at his cousin. This was concerning.

  “I mean no disrespect, Dmitri, but why do you want to know? What is your interest?”

  “My interest is not a concern for you.”

  “I feel it may be. She is my cousin, and she’s been through a lot. She’s our responsibility since her parents are no longer alive.”

  “My interest in her is not a concern of yours. What happened that night? The surveillance does not show the hallway clearly.”

  Fedarro debated about what to say.

  “Fedarro, I asked you a question, and I expect a full, detailed explanation. I won’t ask again.”

  Fedarro was shocked. He worried about Dmitri’s interest in Rayanna and whether it was purely sexual. The last thing she needed was a man like Dmitri interested in bedding her.

  “I mean her no harm. She is a beautiful, charismatic young woman. Who is after her, and why?”

  As Fedarro explained, Dmitri remained silent, so much so that Fedarro wasn’t sure the man was still on the line. He explained about someone cutting her, threatening her, and about her stalker.

  “You have yet to locate this man?”

  “It hasn’t been easy. We believe that he may not even exist under the name Puento Guzmon. It’s like he’s a ghost. We can’t even figure out how he got into her apartment last week.”

  “And her guard, that Carlos fellow, one of yours?”

  “He was recommended by friends of my cousins. He’s been by her side for a year.”

  “He isn’t good enough. He failed her several times. Each of those times, worse could have happened.”

  “He’ll be more protective now. Plus, I have further security for her.”

  “Good. Be sure you protect her. This man sounds like he should have been eliminated already. Now, with regard to the deal, we’re set to move forward. Have your men take care of the first action tomorrow night.”

  Fedarro was a bit surprised. He hadn’t expected to be awarded the task so quickly.

  “It will be a pleasure working with your family and doing more business in the near future. See you tomorrow evening at the banquet,” Dmitri said and then disconnected the call.

  Fedarro ran his hand along his jaw. Why did he have this feeling as if something would go wrong? It made him antsy, and he needed to ensure that the first operation went correctly. He would ask Sunny Costanza to personally go along on the first job and ensure everything went according to plan. His other concern was Dmitri’s interest in Yanna.

  Dmitri was very wealthy, very powerful. His connections went far and deep—across the United States, out of the country—and he was very feared. Fedarro was a made man, as were his cousins, but there was a hierarchy, an unwritten level of power in the families that owned and operated in New York and elsewhere. Even with the power and enormous territory Fedarro possessed, Dmitri Sanclare had more—way more—and the violence, the practices of takeovers, business dealings, customs and procedures of the Russian mob were beyond the Fiorre family’s capabilities. Dmitri was an asset to have on their side. A friend, Fedarro now considered him, but he wasn’t exactly the type of man Fedarro wanted his cousin to be involved with.

  He swallowed hard. If Dmitri made public a show of interest as more than just a fling, Yanna would have more problems than just this psycho ghost stalker Puento. She would have Dmitri’s enemies, and Dmitri would need to provide constant protection for her twenty-four seven. Was that his intention, or was he just after a good time? It might piss Dmitri off if Fedarro confronted him more firmly, but Fedarro would need to do just that in order to protect Yanna, because she had no one else to look out for her.

  * * * *

  Rayanna finished getting dressed for the banquet. She chose a very classy, slim-fitting red dress that accentuated her figure and reached the tops of her very high red heels. The slit went straight up one side, meeting a sheer material that continued up her ribs and under her breasts. The back was open except for the one strip of material across the center, sheer to match the piece under her arm and down to her hip. It was a designer gown created by Jaque Bennire. Her hair was done up in a fancy, intricate style, leaving her neck and shoulders both bare and accessible. She didn’t even need to wear a necklace but chose the small heart of red and white diamonds given to her by her mother years ago.

  She reached for her bag and glanced into the mirror one more time, knowing she looked good, feeling quite beautiful and classy yet sexy, and then trepidation filled her. She sensed that panicked feeling—the worry about whether something could go wrong tonight or that Puento would send someone to hurt her. She slid her palm along her waist, against the bandage. The doctor who Fedarro had insisted she go to see said it wouldn’t scar, not as long as she applied some healing ointment to it.

  “Rayanna, the car is waiting,” Carlos called out to her.

  When she exited her bedroom, she heard the long whistle and looked up to see Carlos and Turbo.

  Carlos didn’t look happy about Turbo being there, but Turbo was thrilled.

  “Look at you. We will definitely be busy tonight keeping the annoying men away. Come on, gorgeous.” He offered his hand.

  She took it and glanced at Carlos, giving him a sympathetic smile, which he nodded at and locked the door behind them.

  Once at the venue, Turbo and Carlos gave her the space she needed to speak with Solencio Monteith. The man ate her up with his eyes and was all smiles as he took her arm and brought her to a private area to talk.

  “I have to admit I am very impressed with your ideas and the designs that you sent me. At first I really wasn’t certain about how classy it may or may not look,” Solencio said to her. They now stood by high stools and a table, both drinking champagne.

  “I hoped that my pictures and the models I have in mind to present the show would really give you a good idea about how wonderful of an event this can be,” she told him.

  He stared at her. “You should be one of the models, Rayanna. You’re absolutely stunning,” he told her, sweeping his gaze over her body and, of course, the high slit up her thigh.

  “You’re so sweet, Solencio. I appreciate your kind compliment.”

  He licked his lips. “It is more than just a compliment. Tell me, how is it that you remain single?”

  She exhaled and played with the stem of her champagne glass. She was used to men asking her things like this and flirting. She felt nothing for the man at all despite that he was attractive and older.

  “Well, I suppose it may have to do
with my busy schedule and commitments to other things.”

  “Life is too short to not enjoy it fully. Perhaps by the end of this little project I’ll get you to say yes to having dinner with me,” he said and winked.

  She didn’t want to lead him on, nor did she want to blow him off rudely.

  “Anything is possible. So tell me, do you think you can come up with a concrete yes so we can begin planning the actual event? It will take several months to organize the entire thing. I have everyone on board just waiting to start the project and get the right outfits and designers to showcase,” she said, changing the subject and bringing it back to all business.

  He took a sip from his champagne glass.

  “I think we can definitely sign contracts this week. Perhaps over lunch or dinner?” he asked, raising one of his eyebrows.

  She chuckled, and his eyes widened. He swallowed hard, and before she could turn, she felt the arm go around her waist and then lips touch her bare shoulder.

  “I’m very angry with you,” Dmitri whispered.

  She was shocked not only by his surprise approach but also by his possessive hold and the fact he had kissed her bare shoulder as if she belonged to him. She cleared her throat and smiled.

  “Mr. Sanclare, what a nice surprise.”

  She went to turn as if to introduce Solencio, but Dmitri reached up and cupped her cheek, then lowered as if he would kiss her lips. She froze in place, and instead, he kissed her cheek, very close to the corner of her mouth. Her heart raced. When he pulled back, she held his gaze, locked onto those intense dark eyes, and then looked at Solencio.

  “Solencio Monteith, do you know Dmitri Sanclare?”

  Dmitri narrowed his eyes and looked Solencio over. Solencio looked panicked.

  “We never met. Very nice to make your acquaintance, sir. I’m going to get going, Rayanna. We’ll meet this week then for dinner. I’ll call you,” he said and hurried away.

  Dmitri continued to hold her close, and her hip was against the table. He smoothed his palm along her lower back nearly to her ass as she gazed up into his eyes. The man towered over her despite her wearing high heels, and the feel of his arms wrapped around her like this and the intensity of his eyes had her shaking. He was beyond intimidating. The man was pro and then some.

  “You aren’t going to meet him,” he said to her in that thick Russian accent of his.

  She raised one of her eyebrows at him, and he seemed shocked. “That is none of your business.”

  He held her in such a possessive way with his arm wrapped around her waist that his fingers grazed her hip on the other side and the sheer material there. The way he stroked her aroused Rayanna’s body.

  “That is what we need to discuss. As I mentioned, I’m angry with you for taking off that night in Chicago when we were just getting to know one another.”

  He looked at her lips, and she shyly looked away.

  “Eyes on me,” he ordered softly.

  She immediately looked up into his eyes. Why the hell his command made her nipples harden she didn’t know, but holy shit, this man got to her easy.

  “I had a situation,” she told him.

  He slowly moved his arms from her waist and stroked her side where the bandage was. He held her gaze, and she squinted at him. How would he know?

  “I heard, and you would have been wiser to let my men and me protect you. If I hadn’t walked away, your attacker would no longer be.”

  She tensed up.

  “Dmitri.”

  He shook his head.

  “We’ll get to that later. Have you eaten?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Then let’s dine together.”

  She looked at Turbo and Carlos, who just so happened to be standing near three of Dmitri’s guards and, oh God, her cousin Fedarro. As Dmitri went to move, she gripped his arm. He paused and looked so serious. God, she’d never met a man who was this hard, this intense, and add in the accent, the guards, his black-on-black tuxedo, and she was seriously in over her head.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  He slid his hand down her forearm to her wrist, gently pulled it behind her back as he stepped closer, and cupped her jaw and neck. He stroked her throat with his thumb, and by God, her pussy leaked.

  “We come from different worlds, Dmitri.”

  “Not so different.”

  “Yes, so very different. I don’t—”

  “Don’t what?” he asked, pushing.

  She swallowed hard.

  “I don’t…date.”

  “Neither do I.”

  She hadn’t been expecting that response. She asked for it by saying what she did.

  His gentle yet possessive hold confused her.

  “I’m not interested in whatever it is you want from me,” she said to him.

  He stared down into her eyes, squinted as if mesmerized by her face, her lips and eyes.

  “The night is young. Give me time to persuade you.”

  He slid his hand from her jaw and neck, turned her with the hand that held her wrist, and began walking her toward the buffet and dining area. With a possessive hand on her hip, he guided her through the crowd. She was a bit shocked as people parted ways to make room for them, well, for him. Everyone knew who Dmitri Sanclare was, and now these people saw her with him, his hold on her, and they would assume she was his latest bedmate.

  When they got to the buffet, she tried putting some space between them. He pulled her back, pressed up against her, and whispered into her ear. “Don’t. I like you close to me,” he said, kissed from her shoulder to her, arm and added food to her plate.

  “So is this what you do to women? You ‘persuade’ them to dine with you, remain close to you as you use your skills to seduce them into bed?” she asked, trying to maintain some control despite how completely out of control he made her feel.

  “You think I have such skills?” he asked.

  She glanced at him, but he wasn’t looking at her—he was adding food to her dish.

  “Please, don’t play your games with me, Dmitri. Even with the risk of angering you, I won’t be a game. I have way too much going on in my life, and I certainly don’t need to be front-page news with the paparazzi, who are taking our picture as we speak,” she said and saw the man in the corner snapping away.

  Dmitri narrowed his eyes, glanced to the right. One of his guards, a big guy, walked toward the man with the camera.

  She exhaled.

  They made their way through the crowd, he took her hand, and they found a table in the corner, low lighting, a candle and only two chairs.

  She looked around them, sought out Carlos and Turbo, who both looked mighty concerned. Then she scanned the area. She worried about Puento finding out that she was talking to Dmitri Sanclare and that he was touching her, remaining close. She covered her belly with her hand and played with her food with the fork, not really feeling hungry.

  “Do I make you that nervous?” he asked her.

  She shook her head.

  “Don’t lie to me, Yanna. I expect better from you, a woman of class, sophistication, and success.”

  She glanced up at him.

  “And you? Would you lie to me, Dmitri Sanclare, just to get what you want or think you want?”

  He slid his hand over hers and stroked her fingers while holding her gaze.

  “Don’t challenge me for no reason. You’re on edge, snappy, and you keep looking around. Are you embarrassed to be seen with me, or pleased and want to look to see who notices us together?”

  She snorted. “Seriously? I don’t know what I feel about this. About you. I’m certainly not comfortable with people staring at us, wondering, assuming that I’m…whatever.” She shook her head.

  “You look scared, uncertain.”

  She parted her lips, trying to think of the right words to say.

  “Go on. Just say it.”

  His challenge to her immediately affec
ted her. She’d never let that happen before. What was it about Dmitri that ruffled her feathers so?

  “I just don’t think it’s wise to be seen together. To continue to get to know one another like you want.”

  He leaned back in his chair and stared at her. He looked relaxed, confident, and oozed sex appeal.

  “The ways of my world are not foreign to you, considering your bloodline.”

  “That’s not my concern right now, Dmitri, and my bloodline is not as dominant, fierce, or known as yours.”

  “So it’s my reputation you fear? I’m rather surprised, considering your independence and great professional success. You’ve shown spunk, confidence. I saw it at the modeling show with how you jumped right in to save the night.”

  “I was forced into doing that.”

  “You did it well. Jaque still speaks of your beauty, although he didn’t get to see as much of you as I did. If he had, we would no longer be friends.”

  He held her gaze as he took a sip of champagne.

  Her cheeks warmed, and she shyly lowered her eyes and then exhaled.

  “That was pretty ballsy of you, too, Dmitri. How many times have you gone backstage and ‘assisted’ a model in trouble?”

  “Only once, and she was so intriguing, so sexy, voluptuous, and interesting that the small peek at her body made me want to see more. Every inch of her.”

  She stared at him, uncertain whether this was a game or if the man was really attracted to her. She couldn’t figure it out. Usually she got some sort of gut instinct with these things. All she knew was that the attraction was there, but her fear of Puento coming after her was stronger right now.

  She looked away.

  “You’re attracted to me, as I am to you. We’ll get to know one another and see where it leads.”

  “I don’t think we should right now. There are things, things I can’t discuss,” she said to him.

  He narrowed his eyes at her and swept his gaze over her lips, her cleavage, and then back to her eyes.

  “Your stalker?” he asked, shocking her.

  Her mouth actually gaped. She closed it and looked around them. Tears stung her eyes. She couldn’t believe this. Anger pooled in her belly. She went to move, but he gripped her knee. She stopped. He held her gaze, then pulled her chair very close to his with little effort.