Clubs: The Suit’s Book 2

The tips of my fingers graze the birch oak shelves. I’ve never seen a room like this before. The ceiling is curved with wooden columns that stabilize the roof, and paneled windows cover the entire wall. The room has three levels. While it’s not a large room, it feels that way.

The steps are each lined with a warm yellow light, and so are the white bookcases, which are filled with books I recognize instantly. I’ve read almost every single one. Books have always been my escape. For years I’ve buried my head in thousands of words, losing all concept of time.

I kneel to the ground and pull out a book with a bright pink spine. Flipping through the pages, I notice red ink lining the margins—someone’s handwriting.

Lifting my eyes, I glance around the room. It has a feminine touch to it, which is the opposite of the rest of the boat. I think that’s why I like it so much. With curiosity getting the better of me, I begin to open drawers. Leave it to me to snoop through everything the day I finally decide to leave my room.

Shriveled and dried roses fill the top drawer below the stacks of books. They’ve turned a brown color over time, but I know they were originally white.

That’s odd.

I open the second drawer and see a notebook. Picking it up, I notice the edges of the paper are folded because it’s been shoved into a small space with a bunch of other items.

“You’re snooping,” a voice says, breaking my thoughts.

I turn to the glass door and find Dimitri standing there with his arms crossed over his chest. “I—” I stutter. “Yeah, I was.”

He smiles and takes a seat on the couch in front of me. “I’m not stopping you, sunshine.”

Is this some kind of joke? It can’t be though—not from Dimitri. He’s the one who encouraged me to look around in the first place, but I’m curious as to why he’s even helping me.

“Why not?” I ask.

“Mikhail doesn’t give you much to work with. That, and you’ve mentioned you’re getting bored.” He plucks at the cuff on his shirt.

“Kind of.” I half-smile and let the air out of my lungs with a sigh.

“What do you normally do? Like, before you came here.”

I drop the book quietly in my lap. I never really did much at all. I was a house cat feeding off what others were able to provide for me. Even down to basic conversation. I craved human interaction. Ingret was always home with me, but she kept busy while my family were out.

Lonely isn’t a good place to be. It creates anxious tendencies: nail biting, feet tapping, irrational fears, and obsessive thoughts. When something is kept in confinement, it’s not able to grow. I was never given the opportunity to form connections with anyone else, and it eats away at me.

“I never really get out much,” I say, trying to sound at bay. “Playing the piano and reading is how I pass the time, but I’ve read all these.” I point to the shelves of books.

“You two have similar taste then.”

“Who?” I ask, eager to find out if there’s another woman who might have been trapped here before me.

“Anya, Mikhail’s sister.” He leans into me and takes the notebook from my hands. As he flips through it, he laughs. “Yeah, this is hers.”

Anya . . .

“Why are her things here?” I ask.

He taps his fingers against his lips. The one time I’d love some answers is when he begins to question if he should even be talking to me. Perfect.

“Anya and I stayed here for quite some time together before Mikhail wanted to take over,” he finally says.

Take over. He just needed a remote place to keep me sheltered from anyone who might want to find me.

“Where is she?”

“Watching my babies and waiting for me to come home.”

My hand flies to my mouth. “You married his sister? Isn’t that like . . . I don’t know—”

“Wrong? Yes, on many levels.” His laughter warms my heart. “But Mikhail would never say no to Anya no matter how much he hates me.”

He smiles brightly. I knew the ring on his finger wasn’t for a marriage he didn’t care for. A woman who’s able to make a man smile like Dimitri is right now is a woman who will be with that man forever.

“Why does he hate you?” I ask, still smiling.

“Oh, that’s a long story. It all started with my absence from the meetings. I couldn’t go anywhere once she started talking to me. She’s very easy to talk to, just as you are.”

I raise my eyebrows. “You should tell that to your boss.”

“There’s no telling him anything. That’s why you interest me.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s like you just say whatever you please. I admire it, but I hope it doesn’t bite you in the ass one day.”

“You and me both.”

He gets up from the couch and walks toward the door. “There’s a grand piano in the main room, just so you know.”

Not long after Dimitri leaves, I take another look at the notebook and decide to grab it along with the novels and take them back to my room. Many of them fall from my arms because of how many I grab at once.

My eyes strain as I read till the sun goes down. I don’t even realize how long it’s been until I can’t see the words anymore. This is the first time I’ve been able to take my mind off the fact I’m trapped on a boat.

Starting to feel hungry, I make my way into the kitchen with the intention of grabbing an apple, but instead I find Mikhail. His back is bare of any clothing, but he’s still wearing his suit pants.

“You should announce yourself when you walk into a room.”

I know he’s talking to me, and I can understand him, but I ignore him as I look at the marks on his back. At first I didn’t notice them. I was too focused on his muscles and the tattoo covering his entire back, many pieces of art all connected into one. But the scars . . . They’re long slashes. Some of them are longer and thicker than the rest.

“What happened to your back?” I ask even though I know I should stay quiet and rush back to my room.

“You know what they say about the cat, don’t you, Sloane?” He directs his attention away from the stove and brings it to me.

My head tilts as I try to understand. “The cat?”

He grabs the handle of the pot and pours the food into a bowl. “Curiosity killed it.”

I hunch over and roll my eyes. “You’re hilarious, truly.”

“Don’t be a cat. I’m not really in the mood to kill you right now.”

I make an annoyed face and walk up to the counter to grab an apple out of the wicker basket. Does he expect me to be thankful for his words?

The energy in the room shifts when I feel how close he is to me. If I were to lift my elbow up slightly, his skin would be on mine. There’s something about Mikhail that I find enticing when I shouldn’t, but I can’t help but want to know more about him.

I turn on my heel and face him. His attention is on the stove as he stirs the food. My eyes trace his body. He’s tall, and his broad shoulders make his waist appear thinner than the rest of his body.

While I admire the sort of beauty the devil can create, I notice how orderly Mikhail is. It’s beyond me how he can cook something messy and yet not leave a speck of mess anywhere on the white counter. The spoon even has a holder on the side of the stove, but he rinses it off before placing it down.

He gives me a sideways glare before he dips a spoon into the soup and brings it to my lips. “Try it,” he demands.

I look at the spoon and question if it’s poisoned. The idea doesn’t shock me as much as it should. It’s definitely something he’d do.

As if he can read my thoughts, Mikhail takes the spoon away from me and tastes it for himself. Then, dipping it back into the pot, he brings another spoonful to my lips. I push it away and watch in shock as the liquid sprays up over his face.

Fuck, I didn’t mean to do that.

Every muscle in his face relaxes as he reaches down and pulls the hem of my shirt up to his face, wiping off the soup. “Your series of poor choices ends today, moya malenkaya koldunya.” My little witch.

Ignoring his thoughtless demands, I ask, “Was it someone in your family who did that to you?”

He slams the pot down on the stove and steps toward me. Every muscle in his jaw hardens as he grabs me by the neck. “What did you just say?”

My hands hold onto his as his fingers dig into my skin. I can breathe just fine, but he’s cutting off my circulation.

When he realizes I’m struggling, he releases his grip. “Get out of my sight,” he demands.

My hands replace his as I try to soothe the skin he grabbed. No one’s ever grabbed me like that before.

Mikhail simply looks down at me in disgust.

I shake my head slowly and walk to the stairs to call it a night.

I thought I could do this. I thought I could handle him, but now I realize this man doesn’t make empty threats.