Page 17 of Ruthless Dream

Elijah laughs, clicking his tongue. “How thoughtful of you.”

“Would it fucking kill you to get on a flight and go back to Oxford?”

It’s where the oldest Zimin studies.

“And miss all the delightful creatures in the night?”

“Out!” the woman barks. “Now. Turn around and go before I start the cutting of the legs off.”

I hold back a snort. It’s only because she’s so serious that the passion comes across as funny.

I still, feeling the sweep of cold eyes. A beat goes by. Then another.

Elijah retreats through the door he originally came from.

But the woman remains.

Her back is to me, giving me a full glimpse of a round arse. Dark hair is pinned into some elaborate bun, her neck delicate. If she belonged to me, there’d be no way in hell I’d let her step out in that dress. I’d have to kill men for looking at her.

She lets out a huge sigh, leaning her head back as she stares at the sky, her hands curling into fists.

She turns, swinging her body like she realizes someone is there. Her eyes narrow on me.

Brown, gorgeous eyes with thick dark lashes. Her lips are a dark red. And I’m even more certain she’d never be allowed out of the house in that dress. The neckline hugs her chest, showing off her breasts in a way that makes me want to curl my hands into a fist.

Her eyes lower to the cigarette in my hand, her nose wrinkling.

I’m not one to explain myself, but there’s the sudden need to tell her I don’t actually like the stuff. It’s just an excuse to get out of the rush of people.

There’s no preamble, no introductions, no pleasantries. Just an order.

“Don’t get ash on the gardenias.”

She marches past me, her pert arse swaying as she passes Seamus on the way back in.

Seamus’s head swings back to watch the woman. “Who is that?”

I don’t like how the wonder in his voice accurately reflects an emotion sparking in my own chest.

I let the cigarette drop to the ground, stamping it out. “She’s got a stick up her arse.”

She also just threatened to cut Elijah Zimin’s legs off.

“Fuck me,” Seamus laughs like he already knows. “You’re fucking in for it, aren’t you.”

CHAPTER 4

Ciaran

Her name is Adeline Marie Akatov. The youngest of Boris and Gia Akatov, she’s had everything handed to her on a silver fucking platter.

It’s honestly disappointing how Boris lets her post so much stuff on the internet.

I hadn’t even left the party before I started digging into Adeline’s life. It was easy enough to find her on social media, where she posts too many selfies to her one million followers. It’s how I discovered she’s enrolled in NYU, drives an Aston Martin, and puts her body on display far too fucking much.

I figured she’d be addicted to her phone, which is why I wormed my way into the system. Boris should be ashamed at the weak protections he’s got set in place.

I was surprised to find more than just vapid photos of herself.