“No. Even the Russians aren’t fool enough to try and kill an O’Brien so obviously.”
That left the question of what exactly it was that she had been trying to dose me with. I cocked my head at her, taking her in and trying to decide what she was capable of. Not rape – she was far too vain for that. So she wouldn’t be looking to dose me with some form of date rape drug to get me senseless beneath her while she rode my cock. No…
I really was confident that she wouldn’t be dumb enough to try and cause me harm. So that had to leave mood enhancers on the table. Valium maybe. Ecstasy. Something to put me in a better mood and make me more interested in her and her agenda I’d bet.
Anastasia watched me warily, clearly expecting me to lose my temper, but I wasn’t that kind of predictable arsehole.
I gave her a wide smile, lifted the glass to my lips and drank down every drop.
Anastasia sucked in a sharp breath, her pupils dilating with unmistakable desire and I banged the glass down on the table with a bark of laughter.
“Let’s see if your little pill gets what you’re hoping for outa me then,” I said in a dangerous tone. “But I warn ya, missy – I don’t tend to have the expected reactions to recreational drugs. They can make me all kinds of unpredictable and violent and I’ll be holding you responsible for anything I may or may not do while under the influence of whatever the fuck it is you thought would be such a clever thing to offer me. You wanted to play this game. So let’s play.”
“Let’s play,” she agreed, raising her glass and I refilled mine before clinking it to hers and sinking the lot again. No one ever said it was a bad idea to mix drugs and alcohol. Right?
I picked up my fork and speared some fancy little pasta pocket onto it, concentrating on my food while Anastasia took the opportunity to fill the silence. I had to say, this was the only kinda pasta that had the right to claim it was different to all the others. Penne, fettuccini, macaroni, tortellini, rigatoni, spaghetti. You could string as many fancy letters together as you liked Mr Italiano, but I wasn’t fooled into thinking that made any of those pastas worthy of their flouncy titles. There was only one thing different about them and that was their shape, but they all tasted and looked the same once they were chewed up in my mouth, didn’t they? It didn’t matter if they were in a twirly whirly coil or posing as a piece of string, I wasn’t falling for the con the rest of the world was falling for while Italy laughed at us all behind a piece of bruschetta.
Apparently, Anastasia had decided to make this soiree into a sales pitch, using it to tell me all manner of things about herself and her capabilities. She was smart. Had gone to law school and had studied accountancy too which let me know she was helpful for any time that I might find myself in need of a loophole in the law to get me out of a sticky situation or a solution to any tricky monetary paper trails my businesses had to deal with.
I pointed out that not only had I never once found myself under scrutiny by the law because I was as wily as a fox in a top hat - and a little because my pa had enough lawmen in his pocket to bail me outa trouble if ever I got into any - but that if ever I was arrested, I’d likely just go on a killing spree to free myself. So those la dee da credentials of hers weren’t much help to me. I also told her that I didn’t have my own money and that I lived on handouts from my pa, which was bullshit, but I didn’t much care about that. I got wired plenty of cash from fellas who wanted to hire me for a hit, but that money was more secret than a dollar bill tucked up a snake’s vagina.
Wait…did snakes have vaginas?
I whipped my phone out to check the whole vagina/egg snake situation and got some pretty confusing answers.
“Holy shit,” I barked, making Anastasia drop her fork in surprise as my fist landed on the table and made everything sitting on it rattle. “Snakes have two penises!”
“What?” She scowled at me, no doubt because she’d been harping on about her years of gymnastics training and how flexible that had left her, but I had no interest in her bendy bullshit.
“Two penises,” I repeated. “And so do sharks! Fuck me, I need more information on this because Spider is going to lose her shit when she finds out. Unless she doesn’t believe me. And maybe she won’t because it’s only come from the man in the phone, and we all know you can’t trust him.” I shoved to my feet. “I’m going to need to find a shark. Or a snake. Or both. Ideally both. Do you have any idea where such a hunt could begin?”
Anastasia was staring at me like I’d fully lost the plot and I realised that I’d gone off script here. It was an unfortunate habit I had of running my mouth to follow every errant thought in my head, but I happened to think that an inquisitive mind was an interesting one. So fuck her gymnastics bullshit because this was real prime information I was gathering here.
My fiancée blinked and suddenly she was smiling, getting to her feet too and revealing all twelve inches of her skirt which looked in danger of flashing her lady parts to me at any moment. I had no interest in a meeting with her eager beaver, so my gaze didn’t linger there.
“I happen to have a tank with a shark in my suite,” she said, her voice dropping in a way I was guessing was meant to seduce me and I sighed.
“If the ‘shark’ turns out to be you naked, I think we’ve already had this conversation, glove,” I reminded her.
Anastasia tittered a laugh like me rejecting her point blank hadn’t enraged her one bit and shook her head.
“It’s a real shark, I promise. I live here full time and his name is Finley.” She took my arm and I reluctantly let her tug me along, snatching my glass and emptying it for the final time before tossing it to the closest Russian stooge.
He just about caught it and I grinned widely as I recognised the fella I’d pegged for Anastasia’s side piece the last time I saw him, noting the furious look of jealous rage in his eyes as he watched her lead me away towards the elevators.
“Don’t look so glum, buddy,” I told him. “You’re welcome to have a round with her once she gives up on trying to climb my pole.”
Anastasia’s fingernails bit into my arm through the fabric of my suit and I looked down at her mildly, wondering what she might want to say on the subject of me not wanting to fuck her.
“Regardless of what we do behind closed doors, I won’t allow you to speak about me like that when we are in the company of others,” she hissed, a warning in her eyes which said she really would do something about it if I pulled a stunt like that again.
“You know, you’re an objectively attractive woman, glove,” I told her as we reached the elevator and she pushed the button to call it. “So why waste your time trying to win over a worthless fucker like me when you could have your pick elsewhere?”
She didn’t reply until the elevator opened and we were sealed away behind the golden doors, rising up towards her rooms where she no doubt planned to try and seduce me again.
“Tell me what it is,” she hissed, pressing a hand to my chest and shoving me back against the wall. “Do you prefer men?”
I barked a humourless laugh. “My life would be a whole lot easier if I did,” I shot back.
“It’s okay if you do. I don’t mind bringing others to the bedroom if you require them,” she pressed and I just rolled my eyes.
“I appreciate the offer, but it isn’t a sexual preference issue.”
“So you prefer women?” she pushed and I clucked my tongue.
“Yes.”
“Blondes?”