His voice was rough. Deeper than usual. I pushed open the door. Olek stood by the window, still dressed in the charcoal suit from earlier. He'd ditched the jacket, though, and rolled his sleeves up. A tumbler of vodka dangled from one hand. He turned when I entered, and something flickered across his face. Surprise? Approval?
Hunger.
"You're early," he said.
"You said ten. It's…" I checked my phone. "9:51. That's basically ten."
"It's nine minutes early."
"Are you really going to argue about nine minutes?"
His mouth curved. "No. I'm going to appreciate that you couldn't wait."
Heat crawled up my neck. "Don't flatter yourself. I just wanted to get this over with."
"Liar." He set down his glass and moved toward me. Slow. Deliberate. Like he had all the time in the world. "You're here early because you've been thinking about this all day. Just like I have."
"You don't know what I've been thinking."
"Don't I?" He stopped in front of me, close enough that I could smell his cologne. "You've been imagining what it wouldfeel like. My hands on you. My mouth. You've been wet for hours, haven't you?"
My thighs clenched involuntarily. "You're very sure of yourself."
"I'm observant." His eyes dragged down my body, slow and thorough. "Nice dress."
"It was on sale."
"You wore it for me, anyway."
"I wore it because it was clean."
He smiled. Actually smiled, and it transformed his entire face. Made him look less like a tyrant and more like a man who was genuinely amused.
"There she is," he said softly. "I was worried you'd come in here all meek and scared. But you can't help yourself, can you? You have to push back."
"Would you prefer meek and scared?"
"God, no." He reached out and traced his fingers down my arm. "I prefer you exactly like this. Sharp. Defiant. Trying to pretend you're not already halfway to begging."
"I don't beg."
"We'll see."
He cupped my face, thumb brushing across my lower lip. The touch was gentle, almost reverent, and it made my breath hitch.
"Last chance," Olek said. "You can still walk out that door. I'll tear up the contract. You keep the money. No consequences."
I stared at him. "Why would you do that?"
"Because I want you willing. Eager. Not just compliant." His eyes searched mine. "So tell me, Katrina. Are you here because you have to be? Or because you want to be?"
The honest answer was both. I needed the money. Needed the protection. Needed everything he was offering. But I also—God help me—wanted this. I wanted to know what it felt like to be touched by a man who looked at me like I was somethingprecious and dangerous all at once. Wanted to feel desired instead of afraid. Wanted to be someone other than Marcus's victim or Zara's protector or the woman who was always running.
Just for ninety days. Just for tonight.
"I'm here," I said quietly, "because I want to be."
Something blazed in his eyes. "Say it again."
