My stomach drops as I stare at it. As ridiculous as last night was, I still have to deal with the rest of this proposal.
Geez, if you’re going to screw the boss, you should’ve at least gotten an extension out of it.
I set my mug under the Keurig dispenser and pop in a pod. The machine whirs to life, and I remember that last night, when I’d stormed into Sasha’s office, I had intended to quit.
It soundedsotempting last night, but in the cold light of day, I realize it’snotan option. I need this job. I need the money. And even if I were to quit, burning a bridge with AngelCorp would be beyond stupid.
The mug fills, and as if Sasha’s listening in on my thoughts and wants to say his piece, his voice cuts through my skull:This merger could save AngelCorp.
AngelCorp, the massive behemoth of a company I’ve nearly killed myself for, is suddenly on the brink. It soundsdramatic, but Sasha’s no drama queen. He doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean.
I ease into one of the chairs at the table, wrapping my fingers around the warm mug. Now, instead of being irritated, I’m unsettled. Because what does it mean for me if AngelCorp is on the verge? Is my job—hell, the jobs of everyone at the company—riding on my proposal?
That’s a lot of pressure.
I turn my MacBook around and stare at the screen. The spreadsheet stares back at me. I want to quit again. I want to march back in there and tell him this is too much for one financial assistant, wonderfully talented though I may be. But the thought of leaving it unfinished makes my stomach twist. Not just because of my resume or the money, but because Iwantto do this. I want to prove I can. And I want to prove it tohim.
So I get to work. One mug of coffee goes down, then another, along with one of the fruit bars from Whole Foods that I don’t even really like but eat anyway because I never feel like making a proper breakfast.
After an hour or so of work, I slam the laptop shut, still irritated. A knock interrupts my internal rant. I freeze, mid-sip, the fresh coffee burning my tongue. Before I can think or do anything else, my phone buzzes next to my laptop. It’s a message from Sasha.
It’s me. Open up.
Of course, it’s him. Sasha Orlov doesn’t do work from home. And he doesn’t do boundaries.
For a wild second, I consider pretending I’m not home. But then I picture him out there, waiting. He doesn’t wait. He’d break the damn door down before walking away.
“Shit.” I hiss the word under my breath, then set the mug down with shaking hands.
I heave myself out of the chair and pad over to the front door on bare feet. It feels like I’m headed to my execution. Every step makes my pulse spike. When I’m at the door, I hesitate for a moment, then crack it open.
And there he is, Sasha Orlov, in the flesh—flawless suit, polished shoes, those coal-black eyes, dark and unreadable. His eyes lock on mine through the crack, his gaze sweeping over me. It’s my apartment, but even standing out in the hall, it feels like he owns the place.
Like he ownsme.
My throat goes dry.
“Good morning, Gabriella.”
I pull the door open a bit more, then open my mouth to speak. Before I do, something occurs to me. A quick glance down reveals that I’m wearing nothing but a pair ofveryshort sleeping shorts and a too-tight T-shirt with no bra on underneath. My nipples are visible through the fabric. Sure, he’s seen what’s underneath already, but this isn’t the vibe I want to send right now.
“Morning.” I cross my arms over my chest. My heart’s racing. “Listen, if you’re here for a repeat performance of last night, forget about it.”
One of Sasha’s dark eyebrows lifts. His gaze is slow, sliding down from my messy hair to my bare legs like hewantsme to see he’s looking at me like that.
He lets out a snort of a laugh. “That’swhy you think I’m here?” His tone is low, amused.
“With you, who the hell knows. Not like you’ve got a reputation for restraint.”
A smirk ghosts across his mouth. “Funny how angry you are about it now. You didn’t seem to mind last night when you were begging and screaming my name.”
I flush hot, both embarrassed for getting clocked like that and for how he sees right through me.
“Oh my God, you are unbelievable.” I pull the door open the rest of the way, leaving it like that as I stride back into the kitchen. “Fine. Come in. You want to talk, come in and do it before my neighbors start asking questions.”
He steps inside with a long stride, shutting the door quietly behind him. It clicks shut, and right away the apartment feels smaller. Sasha’s always had this way of filling whatever room he was in, and not just because he’s nearly six-and-a-half feet tall.
I grab my mug and take a quick sip, not ready to turn and face him just yet.
