He grabbed her chin, stopping her words. “Bend over and pull down your panties so I can spank you.”
Trembling, she laid herself over his knee, reaching under her short skirt to inch down the lace panties that were already?—
The door opened, and Nikolett prayed to whatever gods would listen that she wasn’t blushing. She managed not to guiltily toss the phone away, and instead looked up with a neutral smile, setting the phone down on her chair as she rose, all her weight subtly on her good leg.
“Mr. Petrescu.”
“Admiral.”
Laszlo was a white man just over average height with a lean build. Almost rangy looking, like a wolf. His hair was medium length and was either artfully tousled, or it naturally looked good in a slightly messy style. He had a close-cropped beard and thick, dark lashes, and shockingly light-colored eyes—pale blue or gray.
He crossed the room with a long, purposeful stride to shake her hand. He focused on her face, not looking her up and down or looking around until after he’d gripped her hand in his and they’d leaned in to touch their cheeks together.
As he turned to his seat, his gaze swept over the room and his expression revealed nothing about his thoughts or feelings. Interesting. He either wasn’t surprised, or had very good control of his expression.
“Thank you for joining me.”
Laszlo sat, and the carefully neutral expression flashed into a brief, wolfish grin. “I know when an invitation is a command.”
Nikolett wasn’t sure if he was trying to make her feel guilty. She didn’t feel guilty, but she tipped her head in acknowledgment of the dynamic. “I need to meet with you, but the day and time were up for negotiation. I apologize if you didn’t realize that and rearranged your plans.”
“I had no plans, Admiral.” He looked around again. “Though I must admit I was concerned this was going to be disciplinary.”
“Did you do something that would cause me to discipline you?” she asked, trying for dry humor.
It came out flirty and suggestive.
They both froze.
She had not just said that. Stupid Nyx telling her to read a stupid book. She’d just spouted dialogue better suited to fictional sex than real life.
Laszlo’s beard twitched, and when she grimaced, a full grin overtook his face.
“My apologies for the inappropriate comment. I did not mean that the way it sounded,” she said.
The grin widened and the corners of his eyes crinkled. “I thought perhaps it was a test. To see how I’d react so you can assess sexual compatibility with my trinity.”
That answered one question. Nyx had made it clear this was about marriage in the wording of the invitation. Nikolett reached for her wineglass and realized it was empty. There was a wine bucket with a chilled bottle of white on the sideboard. She rose from her seat.
Distracted by thoughts of how to course correct this conversation, and considerations about if she even should course correct because perhaps this was a blessing in disguise, Nikolett took a step without thinking.
Pain zinged up her leg at the same time the muscles trembled and gave out. Her leg folded under her and she had to slap her palm down on the tabletop to stop herself from falling. Cutlery and glasses rattled.
A second later, Laszlo beside her. Nikolett, half bent, one hand on the table, her injured leg pulled up like she was a wounded animal, stared down at the handsome man as he bent low enough to meet her eyes.
“Admiral, are you hurt?” Laszlo’s gaze skimmed down her, focusing on the leg she’d bent to stop herself from putting weight on it. “Your leg?”
Feelsomething, she begged herself.Please feel something for this man.
“I injured my leg,” she said softly. “It’s healed, but occasionally still twinges.”
“Sit,” he ordered. “I’ll—” He cut himself off. “Can I help you sit?”
He’d started with a command, then stopped himself.
Taking command in a crisis situation was an extremely attractive trait, and she felt a faint stirring of interest.
She swallowed down the word “no,” answering instead, “Yes, thank you.”
