Page 3 of Sinful Wrath
“Urgh, I don’t understand how you can bear to drink this shit neat.”
“My family’s distillery makes this vodka.”
“Wonderful. Is this all you can offer me? Crappy liquor and even crappier conversation?”
I know I’m a mafia princess, and I’ve always been treated as such.
I have dreams just like every other girl out there, and I knew marrying for love would be a long shot, but I was hopeful my papa loved me enough to give me that because I do know he loves me, but I hate how he insists on controlling every aspect of my life.
I get he wants to keep me safe, I’m his princess after all, but at some point he’s going to have to loosen the reins and let me live my own life.
Before Mikhail can thrill me with a reply, our champagne arrives, and I hastily down half my glass in one gulp.
Mikhail, on the other hand, leaves his glass untouched.
Well, more for me.
“So, what do you do for fun?” I take a sip of my drink.
Mikhail crosses his thick arms across his chest. “Run, hike, lift weights. Really anything where I can burn off energy and clear my head.”
“Sounds great.” Not.
“I take it you’re not a big fan of exercising?”
“I like the horizontal kind, if you know what I mean. Though I can be partial to the upright, against the wall kind of exercise too…”
I watch with amusement as Mikhail’s jaw clenches. He really is uptight.
“Apart from that, the most exercise I get is lifting the blankets over my head after a big night of partying.”
Mikhail’s eyes flick over my outfit, and I slyly push my elbows together so that my breasts are almost spilling out of my dress.
I wait for his eyes to go half-lidded or a lick of the lips,anythingthat might prove Mikhail’s not a robot in disguise, but there’s nothing.
What the fuck is wrong with this guy?
“What else?” I lean back in my chair, folding my arms over my chest.
“There isn’t much else.” He shrugs. “I run one of my family’s companies and that keeps me very busy.”
“Don’t forget all the hiking and running.” I roll my eyes.
My father can’t be serious. Mikhail Koslov is my polar opposite. We literally have nothing in common.
He’s a grumpy workaholic who seems to have never had a day of fun in his life. Though I suppose, I shouldn’t be surprised. He looks to be almost a decade older than me, and while that normally would turn me on, he’s way too serious for my liking.
“I have very strict priorities.”
“I can see that.”
Mikhail presses his mouth together in a firm line as he looks at me, and I smile in return.
“So do I, though mine are more of the fun variety.”
“Clearly.”
I frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”