Saba gasped. ‘It’s the size of a freakin’ apple,’ she whispered.
‘Tis. We call it theSoul of Sauvage. It’s a family heirloom that weighs an astounding 50 carats. It also matches your dress and beauty, wife, and it’d be an honor for you to wear it.’
Her eyes misted for a moment, and then she nodded.
He clasped it on her and then, on a whim, kissed her nape. His eyes met hers in the mirror, and his heart lurched.
Damn, she was beautiful.
When she reached out a hand and stroked his chin, he almost lost it.
He teetered on the verge of abandoning tonight’s mission and walking her backward to the massive bed behind them tofokkher senseless.
‘Saba,’ he grated, leaning forward and burying his face in her neck. ‘I want you.’
‘Later,’ she murmured, her utterance raw with need, her hand sinking in his hair as they shuddered with pure desire against each other.
Logic prevailed, and he dragged in a harsh inhale; he pulled back.
With a curl of his lips, he took her hand and swept out of the room, heading downstairs before his cock dictated the night’s events.
Koda, who’d been waiting outside their door, shadowed them as Saba sashayed beside him, looking like a dream.
While they remained silent, they locked eyes ever so often.
She leaned into him in the elevator, her coquettish smile widening, and whispered, ‘You’re so handsome,Šar.’
‘Not so bad yourself,Šarim,’ he rasped, letting his eyes do the talking. ‘An utter vision.’
They entered an extravagant, luxurious ballroom draped in opulent decor.
Koda prowled up a staircase from where he planned to keep an eye on the larger picture.
A concierge met them with a polite nod, a quick check of their digital invitations, and a glass of champagne in hand.
The clink of crystal and the soft hum of conversation filled the air as they stepped inside.
Immediately, all eyes cut to them, as murmurs rose.
Mak was infamous to an extent, but it was his woman, at his side, who drew their attention.
Her stunning beauty was undeniable, captivating everyone’s fascination the moment they entered the room.
It wasn’t just her face and body; it was the confidence with which she wore it.
The way she carried herself as though aware of the effect she had, even desire slammed into him, heat surging up his spine.
A surge of possessiveness followed it as Mak took in their beholders’ visceral reaction to her, stirring a primal jealousy within him.
The fundraiser was teeming with the prominent and the connected of the Syndicate flotilla. Individuals who wielded influence from Dons of mafia houses to holographic celebrities, fellow business associates, and entrepreneurs.
Mak searched for their target, his neural node scanning the room, finally landing on a sandy-haired, tall, thin man with a smile that made Mak’s skin crawl.
A ping went off in his cognitive vision confirming the ID.
Deimos Vale, the CEO of Phantom Codex.
‘That is Vale,’ Mak muttered to his woman, pointing out their mark with a subtle jerk of his chin.
