“I don't have much choice there either,” I reply. “The evidence is pretty damning.”
He drops his head, and it looks like it’s in shame. For a brief second, I find myself wishing I hadn’t been so harsh. He might be a monster, but he wasn’t evil.
I stand to leave, but before that, I feel the need to say one last thing.
“Valentin?”
“Yes?”
“I know you think you're protecting me. And maybe you are. But what I saw today...” I shake my head. “I can't unsee that and pretend it didn't happen.”
“I know,” he says quietly, looking up at me now with a flicker of relief in his eyes. “I'm not asking you to.”
Chapter 9 - Valentin
“Put that desk by the window where there’s light.” I point to the large windows with the best view of the garden, opposite to where my desk sits.
I've never been a man who shares his space easily. I’ve always maintained that my home office is my sanctuary; the one place where I can be alone with my thoughts.
But turns out, Gela Jones makes me do things I once thought I’d blow a man’s head off for even suggesting.
So here I am, directing my men to make room and set up a small office space for Gela, in the very same room that I’ve called mine since this house was built.
“Be careful with that equipment,” I snap at the guy carrying in the scanner and printer.
I watch them shuffle around, and even though my office is large enough to accommodate two workspaces comfortably, a small voice in my head wonders if I’m making a mistake. She might not be happy about it, but there’s no other choice.
I need to keep an eye on Gela and ensure she doesn't share her newfound knowledge with authorities or former colleagues who might lead the Zakharovs right back to her doorstep.
At least, that's what I tell myself.
When the men are gone and everything once again looks orderly, I sit at my desk and get started with my day.
A couple of minutes later, I hear a knock on my door.
“Come in.” I put aside my laptop, already aware of who it is.
“The maid said you asked for me?” Gela steps in, wearing these sexy as hell bootleg jeans with a sheer white shirt tucked in tight. It’s as comfortable an outfit as I can get, and yet I feel like someone has turned the thermostat up.
“Yes.” I clear my throat and look away before I let my gaze settle on those two top buttons she’s left undone on that blouse. “I wanted to tell you your office has been set up so you can get started on work.”
“Oh, really?” Her voice chirps up, and when I look back at her and see those eyes sparkling, something in my heart gives. God, she’s easy to please, and I feel a mild sense of accomplishment at being the one to do so.
“Yup!” I grin and motion to the desk by the window.
Just as I expected, her face falls flat. “Here?”
“You got a problem with here?”
“Are you actually going to let me work?” She crosses her arms and jostles up an eyebrow.
“What do you think I do in here all day? Sing Karaoke?” I snap back.
She shrugs.
“There’s no other space room,” I lie. “It’ll take a lot of things to be moved around to make space for another office.”
However, the truth is something entirely different. It’s not even that I need to watch what she’s doing; it’s the itch that’s crawled under my skin, begging to be appeased by learning all I can about her.
