"You can't greet him in that."
Irina glanced down at her outfit, then looked back at Jack. "Why not?"
"Because—" He steered her to the mirror. "Look at yourself. You look—"
"Like a whore." Her tone was flat.
"No. Well – Irina, you're my wife and I don't want anyone else except me to see you in this."
She turned in his arms and lightly kissed his jaw, flicking her tongue over his skin to tease him. He groaned, and she pressed herself closer to him. She could feel his erection against her stomach. "You like what you see, Jack?"
He slid his hands down to cover her ass. "You tell me."
"Do you want to fuck me, Jack?" She tilted her head backwards to give him better access to her neck.
His response was to push her against the wall. He ran his hands over her bare thighs, his fingers teasingly slipping under the black lace at her crotch. "You're wet." His voice was hoarse.
"For you."
He removed his hand and traced her lips with his forefinger. "I think I'd like you to fuck me with your mouth."
She smiled, and her hands moved to his belt. "You might want to sit down for this."
She backed him towards the bed, then knelt in front of him. And then she lost herself in the taste of him, concentrating only on giving him pleasure, bringing him to the brink again and again and again. When he finally came, she kept him in her mouth until his body stilled, then she looked up at him and smiled again.
"Come here," he said. He pulled her onto the bed and wrapped his arms around her, then kissed her gently and for the longest time.
She wanted to stay like that, forever curled in his arms, but they were running out of time. "I'll wear something else," she said.
Jack held her for a moment longer, then released her. "I guess you should call him."
She took his hand. "It's almost over."
He went into the bathroom to clean up while she phoned Cuvee. When he answered, all she said was the name of the hotel and the room number before hanging up. Then she put one of Jack's shirts over her negligee and checked once more that she and Jack had everything they needed.
Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Irina picked up a long piece of black fabric and nodded for Jack to turn out the lights. She cracked the door open slightly, and smiled at Cuvee.
"Good evening, Gerard."
"Little minx, you've been driving me mad all day," he growled.
"Do you want to come in?"
"Irina!"
"Okay, but remember, we play by my rules tonight."
He nodded, clearly eager to get inside the room. Irina held up the blindfold, then tied it around his head before leading him inside. She guided him to a chair and sat him down, then handcuffed his wrists to the arm of the chair, and tied his ankles to the front legs.
When Jack flicked the lights back on, Irina saw Cuvee was smiling. "I like it when you're kinky," he said.
She bent her head to his ear and whispered, "Good to know. Tell me, do you like surprises?"
"You know I do."
"Good." She ripped the blindfold off.
Jack was standing directly in front of Cuvee. "I wish I could say it's good to see you again," he said, "but that would be a lie."
Cuvee stared at Jack open-mouthed, too stunned to do anything else.
"What's wrong, Gerard?" Irina moved around to stand next to Jack. "I thought you liked surprises."
"I'm impressed, Bristow. I didn't think you'd survive the trek from Siberia."
"I had strong motivation."
"Hmm, yes. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised you welcomed Irina back into your bed. She is rather hard to resist, isn't she?" Cuvee smirked. "Did she tell you she was sorry? That she loved you? Did she beg you for forgiveness?"
Irina tensed, bracing herself for Jack's response. But he surprised her.
"She didn't need to beg. I forgave her anyway."
"Then you're an even bigger fool than I thought."
Jack punched Cuvee in the face. "I've been wanting to do that for so long."
"How long do you think it will take before she betrays you again?"
Jack hit him again. "I think you have something you need to say to my wife."
"Irina, I've been thinking all day about that talented mouth of yours—"
Another punch, this time from Irina. "How about something more along the lines of 'I'm sorry I told you your husband was dead?' Or 'I'm sorry I used you for the last few months?'"
Cuvee licked the blood from his lip and gave Irina his most lascivious look. "I don't recall you complaining at any time."
It was Jack's turn to hit Cuvee again. "Enough."
"You saw the pictures, Bristow."
Irina walked around and picked up one of the knives she'd laid out on the bed. Then she returned to Jack's side. Cuvee's gaze flickered to the knife, and she was pleased to see the momentary flash of fear in his eyes.
"I know you don't believe in God, Gerard, but I assume you've read some of the Bible." Irina tilted the knife so that light glinted off the blade. "Are you familiar with the punishment for taking that which doesn't belong to you?"
"You've always belonged to me, Ira. You just won't admit it."
Irina looked at Cuvee, her expression cold. Then she turned to Jack and kissed him. When she looked back at Cuvee, some of his smugness had vanished. "I was never yours, Gerard."
He looked at Jack. "I suppose she's convinced you she belongs to you."
"Irina's her own woman," Jack said calmly. His hand was at the small of Irina's back, a reassuring warmth. "She's not something to be owned."
Again, he had surprised her. This was not the Jack she had met over the weekend; this was the Jack she had married. "I gave myself to Jack the day I married him."
Cuvee laughed. "You were ordered to marry him!"
She shrugged. "Regardless of the circumstances, I'm his. I choose to be his."
"Then you're as much of a fool as he is."
"Jack is not a fool." She stepped towards him and trailed the blade of the knife the length of his arm. She stopped at his wrist. "In some countries, thieves lose a hand."
He stared at her defiantly.
She moved the knife to his crotch. "I think this would be a more fitting price."
"You stupid bitch! I never did anything you didn't want me to do!"
"Really? I didn't want you to keep Jack prisoner for months, but you did that."
"I'm curious, Cuvee," Jack said. "Why exactly did you keep me there? You never asked for any information."
Cuvee didn't respond. Irina trailed the knife up his chest, bringing it to a stop at his throat. "I believe my husband asked you a question."
Cuvee smiled. "Everyone needs a hobby, my little minx."
She slapped him, her palm stinging from the impact. "You bastard."
Cuvee's laugh turned into a scream when Irina drove the blade of the knife through his hand. She stepped backwards, trembling. "This was all a game to you?"
When Cuvee got his breathing under control, he said, "I see Larisa's taught you well."
Irina fetched another knife from the bed and held it over Cuvee's uninjured hand. "Were you in North Korea?"
His eyes darted to the knife. "Yes."
"When did you decide to kill the others and take Jack?"
He took too long to reply, so she drove the knife through his hand.
"Bitch!" he hissed. "I was there for a meeting – if you'd done your job and told us about the mission we wouldn't have been surprised!"
She looked at Jack, who was staring at her with an unreadable expression. She retrieved another knife. "Why was Arvin Sloane convinced Jack had been killed?"
Cuvee started laughing again. "Arvin Sloane was the person I was meeting." He looked at Jack. "You should really think twice about the people you let close to you. You want to know what your friend sold you for? A five-hundred-year-old prophecy!"
Irina stepped away from Cuvee, more concerned with Jack right now. She'd suspected Sloane had been involved somehow, but she had hoped she was wrong. "Jack?"
"I think I'd like to ask him some questions now." Jack's tone was devoid of any emotion. "May I borrow your knife?"
Irina handed it to him without saying a word, then stepped aside.