Page 195 of Arrow

A dangerous smile curved his lips. “Fatally, I hope.”

“Time will tell,” I replied, sipping my champagne, before setting it down on the table and sliding into his lap, making a show of wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him.

“What are you doing?” he whispered against my lips.

“Making a statement,” I whispered back, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “My father’s watching.”

Arrow’s eyes darkened as understanding dawned. His hands slid to my hips, fingers digging in possessively as I shifted on his lap.

“You want to make him suffer,” Arrow murmured, his lips trailing down my neck.

“Is that so wrong?” I asked, tilting my head to give him better access. I caught my father’s gaze across the room, saw the disgust flash across his face as Arrow’s teeth grazed my pulse point. The satisfaction I felt was immediate and visceral.

Arrow’s laugh rumbled against my skin. “Nothing has ever felt more right.”

I felt his hand slide up my thigh beneath the table, fingers tracing the edge of the bruises he’d left earlier. The touch was proprietary, a silent reminder of how thoroughly he’d claimed me. My body responded instantly, a flush spreading across my chest as I shifted against him.

“If you keep squirming like that, we’re going to give these fine people more of a show than they bargained for,” he warned, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that made my skin prickle. “Unless you want me to fuck you right here, in front of everyone.”

“Would you?” I challenged, rolling my hips subtly against him. “Show everyone exactly who I belong to now?”

His fingers tightened on my thigh, hard enough to leave fresh marks. “Don’t tempt me, Harlowe. There are limits to even my self-control.”

I leaned in, my lips brushing his ear. “What if I want to test those limits? What if I want everyone to see exactly what happens when you lose control?”

His grip tightened, fingers digging into the flesh of my thigh with exquisite pressure. “Then I’d have to punish you later,” he murmured, his voice a dangerous promise. “And you know how creative I can be when it comes to punishment.”

A delicious shiver ran down my spine. I shifted again, deliberately this time, feeling him harden beneath me. “Maybe that’s what I’m counting on.”

His eyes darkened to near black, pupils dilated with desire and something wilder. It thrilled me to see Arrow Romanov—feared, respected, untouchable—fighting for control because of me. I watched his jaw clench, that telltale muscle jumping as he reined himself in.

“You’re playing with fire, malen’kaya gadyuka,”⁠* he warned.

From across the room, I felt my father’s gaze like a physical weight. When I glanced over, his expression was thunderous, disgust and fury warring on his face. Good. Let him see exactly what he’d created by throwing me to the wolves. Let him watch as I became the wolf instead.

Arrow followed my gaze, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his face when he realized what I was doing. Without warning, he gripped my chin, turning my face back to his, and crushed his mouth against mine in a kiss that was more claim than affection.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark with promise.

“I think we’ve made our point,” he murmured, his thumb tracing my lower lip. “Your father looks ready to commit murder in front of witnesses.”

I glanced over my shoulder, catching my father’s murderous expression before he turned away, barking orders at one of his capos. The sight filled me with savage satisfaction. For years, I’d tried to earn his approval, his respect, his love. Now I found power in his disgust.

“Good,” I said, sliding off Arrow’s lap with deliberate slowness, letting my dress ride up just enough to give him a glimpse of the bruises on my inner thighs. “That’s exactly what I wanted.”

Arrow stood, adjusting his suit jacket to conceal the evidence of his arousal. His hand found the small of my back, warm and possessive.

Drinks flowed freely as tensions simmered just beneath the surface. I watched my father work the room, his smile never reaching his eyes as he shook hands with men who had tried to kill him more than once. The performance was almost admirable—a dying king pretending he still ruled his kingdom.

“Where’s Orion?” I asked.

“He’s indisposed tonight, handling some personal shit.”

“Personal shit?” I raised an eyebrow. “Is everything okay with him?”

Arrow’s expression remained neutral, but I caught the slight tightening around his eyes. “Family matters. Nothing to concern yourself with.”

I knew better than to push. In our world, “family matters” could mean anything from a genuine emergency to cleaning up bodies. Orion’s absence was notable, though—he rarely missed important gatherings, especially ones involving security.