Made Men 5: Dmitri's Denial (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic) Read online

  “My God, stunning. So stunning. Fedrico, you got lots of pictures, correct?”

  She heard him call out and couldn’t even glance to see where or to whom he was speaking, her gaze zeroing in on Dmitri Sanclare and four men with him. Guards. His security team. There were three when he first entered backstage and now four of them. Holy shit. She looked around for Carlos but didn’t see him. He was probably still by the front exit. He really wasn’t happy about being here at all, and she couldn’t blame him. She would tell Carrie that she owed Carlos a steak dinner, as well.

  “Thank you for stepping in and wearing the dress. It’s yours, love,” he said to her, shocking her, then kissed each cheek before he gave her a wink.

  “Oh, that’s so kind of you, Mr. Bennire.”

  He waved her off.

  “First we need pictures.” He snapped his fingers, and a photographer approached and had her stand beside Jaque Bennire.

  “Dmitri, please get in the picture. I want this for myself, to frame, my friend,” he called to Dmitri Sanclare.

  She felt her heart beat even faster. Sure enough, he got right into the picture, placed his arm around her waist, and hoisted her against his side. She felt faint but smiled for the picture.

  Jaque then took off, and she looked at Carrie, who gave thumbs-up and then was grabbed by another model needing her.

  Rayanna went to step from his hold, but he held firm. She turned toward him, his large, warm hand at her waist. That sexy, capable face had her tongue-tied, and her brain unable to think of anything good to say, especially as he held her gaze and stared down into her eyes. The man towered over her, and she couldn’t help but feel feminine and fragile. This man could break her in two or worse. Holy shit, Dmitri Sanclare.

  “A very unique green. Beyond the beauty of emeralds. Something more,” he whispered.

  She swallowed hard. That sexy Russian accent did her in. She felt like an idiot and tried to maintain her self-control and act unaffected by this man. Women probably threw themselves at him night after night. She wasn’t going to play his games.

  “Is there something you wanted, Mr. Sanclare? I need to change and get back to work.”

  “You work back here?” he asked, releasing his hold.

  Remnants of the feel of his touch lingered throughout her body. Holy shit, no wonder women threw themselves at the man—he was a fucking god.

  “Yes, not a model, so you can continue your search.”

  “My search?” he asked.

  “I get it. Good luck, I’m certain one of the models will love…entertaining you tonight.”

  “I’m friends with Jaque,” he called after her as she started walking away.

  “Sure. Then he can hook you up. Thank you again.” She went to close the curtain on him, and she saw what appeared to be a scowl, yet a hint of amusement. She gulped and knew her cheeks were red. She couldn’t avoid it or hide the attraction to the man. He was that good-looking and charismatic, but Jesus, he was Dmitri Sanclare. A heavy. A big-time heavy. Shit. She knew men who were half as bad, and she didn’t want to mess with them or be near them. Hopefully he was insulted and would just leave her alone.

  * * * *

  LaCrueage was jam-packed, but Rayanna and Carrie stood by the bar after dinner and enjoyed glasses of wine. Carlos stood a few feet away and kept watch every time some guys approached them.

  “Your bodyguard is killing my opportunity for a very happy ending to a long day,” Carrie said and eyed him over. He raised one of his eyebrows at her, and Rayanna chuckled.

  “He’s just making sure we’re safe.”

  “Oh my God, don’t turn around, but you’ll never guess who came from the main dining area,” Carrie said to her.

  “Okay, who?”

  Carrie snickered. “The mob boss you insulted more than once.”

  “Oh God.” Rayanna exhaled and took a sip of her wine. She stood and looked to the right.

  “Can we disappear into the other room?”

  “Too late, I think he spotted you. My God, the man looks determined. You snagged the attention of one very eligible bachelor.”

  “No thank you,” she said and then felt the presence behind her and the hand go to her hip. Instantly her body warmed, that sensation of power, protection, intimidation all rolled into one, and she glanced up over her shoulder to lock gazes with Dmitri Sanclare.

  “Miss Fiorre,” he said to her.

  She realized he’d found out her name. She looked at Carrie, who glanced at the men behind him. Carlos came over.

  “Rayanna, is there a problem?” he asked, and one of Dmitri’s guards stepped toward Carlos.

  “Oh no, Carlos. No problem. Um, Mr. Sanclare, please meet Carlos Relling,” she said, but as she stepped forward she felt Dmitri grip her hip, keeping her in place. She didn’t know why that didn’t make her panic; instead, it aroused her.

  Dmitri stuck out his hand and shook Carlos’s.

  Carrie looked about ready to pass out, and the man who had stepped toward Carlos now stood behind Carrie’s chair.

  “I’ll be right here if you need anything,” Carlos said and stood back in position.

  “A guard for your protection? Then where was he today when you needed assistance?” Dmitri asked her. He stroked her shoulder and down her arm.

  “He wasn’t far, and I had it under control.”

  “So tell me, how long are you in Chicago for?” he asked her, sort of dismissing her reply.

  He was so fierce and dominant. Add in that accent, and she felt out of control. She always had when dealing with men of all kinds. She glanced at Carrie, who was practically drooling over one of Dmitri’s men.

  This man was something else, trying to manipulate a conversation and make her get all goo-goo and gaga over him. She was used to men hitting on her, trying to be all suave—of course, none, as well known and feared as Dmitri Sanclare. Well, close enough to think she knew enough and had had enough practice avoiding them. She had avoided all men for quite some time now. She thought of Puento and swallowed hard.

  “I haven’t decided yet.” She lifted her chin and looked around the place.

  He stroked her hand and brought her knuckles to his lips, gaining her full attention and making her heart skip a beat. Before he kissed her skin, he held her gaze and spoke in that sexy, thick, deep Russian accent.

  “Good, then we’ll have plenty of time to make some plans.”

  “Plans?” she asked, her voice nearly cracking as he took that moment to kiss her knuckles. His lips were warm, firm against her knuckles, and she imagined how they might feel against other parts of her body.

  She needed to be smart here. This wasn’t a man to mess around with. She knew that. Hell, this wasn’t a man to have a one-night stand with, though her body was definitely primed and ready from such simple gestures and his demeanor alone. She must be a glutton for punishment. She had to make him lose interest. He more than likely was used to women who simply obliged his invites with sparkling eyes and hopes of whimsical futures in his arms. She gulped and looked away. It was too difficult to lie to him, to speak coherent words staring up into those almost black eyes of his. The man reeked of danger.

  “That’s rather presumptuous of you, Mr. Sanclare, to assume such a thing could happen.”

  He lowered her hand and reached for a drink one of his men must have ordered for him.

  The loss of his touch affected her in a negative way. She took the moment of reprieve and glanced back at him.

  “I never presume anything, Miss Fiorre, I explore.”

  * * * *

  “We have a potential situation.”

  “What is that?” Puento asked his informant.

  “Dmitri Sanclare showed up at the show and at the restaurant.”

  “Really? Not so strange considering he owns the city.”

  “Yeah, well, the problem is that he seems to have set his eyes on your target.”

  Puento gripped the phone and clenched his teeth.
Rayanna was so gorgeous and sexy that, of course, she would snag the attention of a man like Dmitri. Hell, of any man who knew perfection. Dmitri wasn’t a dating kind of man or one to think of women as anything other than a way to fulfill his needs.

  “I need them separated.”

  “What do you suggest I do?”

  “Not get caught but give her a scare, a reminder of the fact that I’m still out there hunting, ready to take her.”

  “How am I supposed to do that and not get killed by Sanclare’s men? There are five of them here, including Grisha and Bodashka. Those are big, badass fucking dudes.”

  “I pay you to think out of the box. Do it, and don’t get caught.”

  * * * *

  Dmitri listened to Rayanna talk about her work and about how she did freelance work now and traveled a lot. She was worldly, sexy, yet there was a shyness about her, a femininity. Her arms were thin yet toned. A man his size would consider her petite and feminine. He felt a little better knowing she had a security guard with her, and he didn’t know why he thought that. She intrigued him, and it was more than just her body, the sound of her voice, or that smile. Hell, even Olek, one of his main guys, stared at her and then looked at Dmitri, giving him a wink.

  He paused a moment to look at his cell phone, getting news on a situation that was resolved. Then his phone rang, and he saw that it was a business associate he had been waiting to hear from.

  “Excuse me a moment. I need to take this call,” he told her and then looked at her as if she might disappear on him. “Don’t leave,” he said sort of firmly.

  Her eyes widened. “I need to use the ladies’ room anyway.” She stood.

  His men followed him, and she looked at Carlos, who remained where he was, watching. Dmitri wondered why the guard didn’t follow her down the hallway to the bathroom. He seemed more interested in watching Dmitri, but it wasn’t his job or responsibility to keep eyes on Rayanna, even though his gut clenched slightly. He ignored it, not ready to analyze the situation. He was a man who kept to himself. He distrusted everyone. Knew they all had motives and were after things. He didn’t even know why he had shown up here tonight except to get another glimpse of Rayanna, especially after seeing her body and helping with her dress. She was sensual and intriguing. He walked toward the other room.

  * * * *

  Rayanna finished up in the ladies’ room and headed back through the small crowd of people. She saw Carlos’s back as he stood by the wall, and then she felt the arm go around her waist and something sharp against her side. She gasped and went to turn.

  “No. Don’t look. Just listen. Puento says lose the guy. You’re his, always.”

  She gasped when the knife cut her dress and her skin as he released her. She turned to look behind her, her hand on her waist and fear making tears flood her eyes. She saw the back of a man in a suit—dark hair, wide shoulders, and tan skin—move swiftly around the corner. She stood there feeling numb and as if she imagined it, but then the stinging hurt her side, and when she looked down at her hand, she saw the blood.

  Oh my God, he cut me. Puento is watching. Carlos.

  She looked up, and Carlos locked gazes with her, narrowed his eyes, and shoved through the crowd. He pulled her close, and she gasped, holding her side.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” he asked.

  She showed him her hand.

  “Rayanna, what happened?” He raised his voice and looked at her side.

  She glanced past him, the tears escaping her eyes, and she used her other hand to wipe them away when she saw one of Dmitri’s guards.

  She gripped onto Carlos as he asked questions.

  “We need to leave. Now. Right now, Carlos. Please.”

  “Your jacket.”

  “No, we need to get out of here quickly. A man came up behind me, threatened me, saying that I belong to Puento and to lose the guy. He’s here watching, Carlos.”

  Carlos looked around them and pulled her close.

  “Let’s go. This way.” He led her around the corner to the back door.

  They exited the building, and he kept his gun at his side as he got her to the vehicle and inside. She leaned back, glancing at the restaurant and thinking about Dmitri. He was probably going to be angry, but maybe that was enough to make him move on and see she wouldn’t be his next fling. Then she thought of Puento.

  “He’s everywhere, Carlos. It’s getting worse,” she said as tears flowed.

  He gripped her hand. “I won’t let him get to you. We’re going to have to change things, Rayanna. You can’t be walking around so freely, and especially not flirting with men as dangerous as Dmitri Sanclare. It isn’t smart.”

  Her gut clenched and an odd feeling, one that never hit her before, attacked her thoughts. Carlos sounded different. She looked at him, and he glanced at her.

  “I can’t even be feet away from you. If I were by the bathroom door, it wouldn’t have happened.”

  That feeling diminished, and she realized he was angry and felt responsible and as if he failed her again. She needed to be smarter. This was more serious than she wanted to admit.

  “It’s my fault. We both need to take this more seriously. He’s after something. I don’t know if it’s just making me fearful, or if he wants more. I mean, he had someone come here and threaten me. Cut me, Carlos. A knife against my side as he held me close and threatened me, warned me to stay away and that I belong to Puento.”

  She looked at her hand, the blood on it, and then at the cut. Just enough to break the skin and pinch and burn—a warning of what could come.

  Chapter 3

  “Dmitri Sanclare? Really, Yanna?” Fedarro questioned her as Rayanna stood in his office. Her cousins Collin, Mateus, and Major were there, too.

  “What? I met him backstage and then at the restaurant after-party.”

  “You do realize who he is, don’t you?” Major asked her.

  “Of course I do, though I didn’t at first. I mean, I’ve never seen a picture of the man. Our meeting was a fluke thing.”

  They went quiet. They had already inspected the cut on her side, asked a bunch of questions, and then finally gotten down to what this meeting was all about.

  “You need to know something,” Fedarro said to her.

  “What?” she asked, wondering if they had news on Puento and the guy who threatened her and cut her.

  “We’re in negotiations to do business with Dmitri Sanclare.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “We’ve done several small jobs over the years, but this is a little bigger,” Fedarro told her.

  “You don’t need to know the details, but you do need to know that he is here in New York. He’ll be at the event tomorrow night, as well as many other big businesspeople. You’re supposed to be discussing new promotional ideas with Solencio Monteith, are you not?” Major asked her.

  “Yes. We were going to meet and discuss some things at the event, then plan to schedule some meetings about the club where he’s hosting a small fashion show and fund-raising event. He hired me to oversee operations and handle organizing the event,” she replied.

  “Dmitri is a very dangerous man, Yanna. Very dangerous. When he sets his sights on something he wants, he will do whatever is necessary to get that. It never really takes much,” Fedarro told her and looked her over.

  She got annoyed. Were her cousins thinking she was some sort of slut or something? She crossed her arms in front of her chest.

  “You do know that I have only been intimate with two men in my life. Puento was one of them, and we dated for several months before things…got out of hand.” She looked away.

  “Although you never explained in detail what happened to make you disappear and leave the country for months, without a phone call to us for days, if you recall.” Fedarro narrowed his eyes at her.

  “How could I not? All of you were pissed off.”

  “You never explained anything, nor the fear we see in your eyes when Puento’s name co
mes up. What did he do to you, Rayanna?” Mateus asked her.

  She took a few unsteady breaths and subconsciously ran her hand along her waist where the bandage was.

  “Does it matter? I got away from him, or so I thought, but apparently he isn’t done scaring me or wanting me.” She lowered her eyes. “I don’t know why he’s doing this. I don’t understand how he can be in all these places. That guy who grabbed me and threatened me didn’t need to cut me.”

  “But he did. He was making a point,” Collin added, scowling.

  Mateus took her hand and pulled her into an embrace.

  “We’re trying to be more diligent in locating him, but it’s like he doesn’t exist. That leads us to believe that his identity is false. We’ve got men working on finding him, and we’ve got people looking at the surveillance videos from the restaurant in Chicago. That’s how we know about Dmitri Sanclare and him talking to you.”

  “We know you aren’t going to be happy about this, but we’re taking your security up another notch when you’re at the event tomorrow night. Our own security will be keeping eyes on you, escorting you to and from the event along with us. Carlos will have backup,” Fedarro said, and he sounded as though he didn’t trust Carlos’s capabilities. It was Mateus and Major who had hired Carlos by recommendation. They thought he was reputable and willing to do the job, but maybe they were changing their minds. She trusted Carlos and felt comfortable with him. He had become a friend, as well.

  “It isn’t Carlos’s fault. Who would have thought that Puento would go this far? It isn’t his MO. In the past he’s done something like this, or shown his face, or left me something, then disappeared for weeks or a month.”

  “Well, now he sent someone to threaten you and cut you. That person could have shoved that knife into you and killed you. That’s the difference now. Your stalker just took his intensity up several notches, Rayanna. Several. You need to be smart.” Fedarro raised his voice.