Page 41 of Viper’s Reign

She turns when she hears me, and the forlorn expression clears into a small, warm smile. “What a beautiful ceremony.”

“And you were the most beautiful woman there.” I take her hand, rubbing my thumb over her knuckles. A thrill runs through me at the contact, and her fingers curl into mine as she shifts closer, angling her body fully toward me.

Sometimes, I wonder where the act ends and my true feelings begin. Better not to think about it.

“The bride was the most beautiful woman there,” she corrects, but there’s a pleased softness to her expression.

“You are absolutely stunning in that dress.” I tuck her hand through my arm, steering her back into the hall. The grin she tips up at me hits me squarely in the chest—because that smile won’t last once she finds out what I have in store for her.

Inside, soft music plays while guests eat and talk. I’m scanning for a quiet table away from family when she speaks again.

“Why did you bring me here?”

I look at her, surprised by the directness of it. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t strike me as the type of man who brings anyone around his family, and yet here I am.” Her brows pull together, her lips turning down. “I’m not who you think I am.”

My stomach drops—a rare occurrence for me.

Is my little minx about to confess?

Pulse racing, I lift my hand to her jaw and brush my thumb over her lips, smearing her lipstick. “And who is that?”

“This.” She gestures down at her dress, then to her hair. “I don’t dress up and go to events.”

“You came to the expo. You were dressed up then,” I point out.

“That was different.” A direct echo of what I told my mother.

“How so?”

“It—” She trails off and exhales heavily. “It just was.”

My pulse settles back to its steady metronome. But regret sinks deep into my gut. So much for a confession. She’s still lying.

A waiter passes with drinks, and I stop him, taking two glasses of wine from his tray. I hand one to Grace and sip mine.

“Is this your way of telling me you don’t like the dress I bought you?” I ask, trying to lighten the air. I wouldn’t want to cause a scene.

The words work differently than intended. I’m reminded that I bought everything she’s wearing. The thought fills me with a possessive fervor. She’s wrapped in things I bought for her. My woman, in things I bought for her. Mine.

I subtly sneer the irrational thought away as she forces a small smile.

“Can I tell you a secret?” She sets her glass down and smooths her hands up my chest as she leans forward to whisper in my ear, “I only agreed to let you buy this dress for me so you can take it off later.”

It’s a weird sensation, knowing that someone’s lying to you… and not caring in the slightest.

My control snaps. For a moment, all I can see is exactly that—the dress shoved up over her head, her underneath me, that tight heat—and my vision whites out at the edges, all the blood rushing straight to my cock.

“Fuck.” I drain my wine in one go and close my hand around her arm. “We’re leaving.”

She laughs, thinking I’m joking, but I’m dead serious. I tighten my grip and steer her toward the exit.

“What? Dimitri, hold on, we haven’t eaten, we⁠—”

“I’ll feed you, alright,” I growl. “I’ll feed you good. Give that pert mouth something to work on.” My cock throbs harder at that image, and I pick up my pace until she’s practically jogging to keep up with me. I don’t slow down. I don’t care.

“Dima.”