"That should keep you running smooth for a while," I murmured to the machine.
Coffee in hand again, I moved to the bedroom. The lamp on Nicolai's nightstand was flickering pathetically—an easy fix. I touched it briefly, the lights steadying instantly.
The electronic blinds that had malfunctioned this morning were next, and I couldn't resist programming them to open gradually with the sunrise rather than just snapping up all at once.
As I worked my way through the apartment, fixing device after device, I tried not to think too hard about what I was doing. About how comfortable I'd become here in just two weeks. About how Nicolai's possessive gaze made me feel both terrified and exhilarated. About the way his massive hands had held me last night with a gentleness that contradicted everything I knew about him.
About how I should be running instead of repairing.
The security system was my last stop, and the most complicated. It wasn't just fried; it had gone into protective lockdown after experiencing what it interpreted as an electromagnetic attack. Which, technically, it had been. Just not the kind the system was designed to recognize.
I placed both hands on the main panel and concentrated harder than I had on any of the other devices. This wasn't justabout fixing what I'd broken—this was about safety. Nicolai's safety. And, by extension, mine.
The lights in the apartment dimmed slightly as I channeled more energy into the system. The panel beneath my fingers grew warm, then hot. Code flashed across the small display screen, too fast for normal eyes to read, but I understood every line.
I wasn't just restoring the system; I was rebuilding it from the ground up, building it stronger, better, and more resilient to... well, to me.
When I finished, the panel cooled under my touch. The security display blinked three times before glowing a steady green. All systems operational—and then some.
I'd added a few personal touches: faster response times, intelligent pattern recognition, and a special exception protocol for electronic anomalies matching my particular signature.
I stepped back, surveying my handiwork with a sense of satisfaction I hadn't felt in a long time. Every screen, light, and electronic device in the massive penthouse was not just functioning again, but working better than before.
"Consider it a thank-you gift," I said to the empty room, knowing full well the cameras were picking up every word. "For last night."
I drained the last of my coffee and headed toward the kitchen to refill my mug. It was time to find Nicolai and see what the day had in store. Besides, I was curious to see his reaction to my little electronic improvements.
Maybe, just maybe, I'd get to short-circuit something again tonight.
With a freshly filled coffee mug in hand, I went hunting for my bear. The penthouse was massive, but there were only so many places a six-foot-four Russian crime boss could hide.
As I moved toward his office, the sound of his voice—low, threatening, and inexplicably sexy—guided me the rest of the way.
The office door was cracked open. I peeked inside to see Nicolai standing behind his desk, phone pressed to his ear, his massive frame practically vibrating with barely contained rage. His free hand was clenched in a fist on the polished surface of his desk, knuckles white.
"This is not negotiable," he growled into the phone. "You will remain within the boundaries we established or there will be consequences that neither of us wants."
I hesitated in the doorway. Angry crime boss probably needed privacy for threatening people. But before I could back away, Nicolai's eyes locked onto mine.
His expression shifted—still thunderous, but now with something else mixed in. Without breaking his phone conversation, he beckoned me forward with an imperious curl of his fingers.
Who was I to refuse?
I stepped into the office and Nicolai immediately reached out to pull me to his side. His large hand settled on my hip, grip firm and possessive in a way that sent a completely inappropriate thrill through my body.
Angry bear is surprisingly hot.
"The matter is closed," Nicolai continued, his accent thicker with anger. "Do not test me on this."
From my position tucked against his side, I could feel the rumble of his words vibrating through his chest. It was distracting, to say the least. The man radiated heat like a furnace, and the scent of his cologne—something woodsy and expensive—wrapped around me like a second possessive grip.
"Do we understand each other?" he asked into the phone, his thumb absently stroking small circles against my hip. The casual intimacy of the gesture made my heart flutter traitorously.
Whatever the person on the other end said must have satisfied him because Nicolai ended the call moments later, tossing the phone onto his desk with barely restrained violence.
"Problems with the neighbors?" I asked, trying to sound casual despite the firm hand still gripping my hip.
Nicolai looked down at me, his expression softening just a fraction. "Nothing for you to worry about,malysh."
